Katowice
Katowice
Katowice: A Love Story
By: Justin Dodge
The first time I encountered Katowice I was utterly repulsed, as if first meeting
a blind date; I immediately dread the remainder of the evening. She was hideous,
truly one of the ugliest sights I had ever seen. I questioned her appeal… why, I
asked did so many people find her to be their home, there had to be something more,
but what was I missing, “What!?” I asked myself over and over.
That evening I was blinded by a poisonous mixture of rumors and stereotypes; I could
see nothing more than a giant mole she called a power plant. Failing to see beyond
the surface, I told her I was late for a train and rushed off only to find myself
on a pospieszny carriage (slow train) destined to leave over an hour later. I felt
quite thankful our rendezvous was brief and soon her perfume, a strange combination
of exhaust and waste had been replaced by the man next to me... an odor more like
old cheese.
* * *
Like seeing that girl you brushed off months ago, I ran into this girl named Katowice
once more and oh how I feared her wrath; surely, I told myself, she must have discovered
the true departure time of that train. Yet I was shocked to discover she again welcomed
me with open arms, arms which I again feared to embrace. If I only knew how sweet
she was I would have embraced her at that very moment.
I had four hours, first seeming like an eternity I tried to make the most of it
by venturing out into the city. I found little of interest, but remained polite
and thanked Katowice for her time. I believed I could hide in the train station,
but soon found Katowice to consume every part of the city and this train station
was no different.
This station takes on a life of its own after 22:00, and yes, even more of a life
at 2:00am. The night moved along and with the fumes of burning gasoline in the air,
something told me, I had to embrace her, my sweet Katowice. She showed me more than
that mole, she showed me Poland, both the good and the bad.
A sitting area in the restaurant for paying customers had everyone: young couples
in love, students returning with tall bags of clean laundry, businessmen, backpackers,
and yes, the occasional homeless person and/or drunk; Katowice had it all! I contemplated
a new thesis topic, for I had never seen such a fascinating interaction of people
in a single place. This one room had anything a young man sought out including frytki
(French fries) for 3 zloty. How could I have missed this? Like a sandwich with mayo
that went bad months ago, I could not resist the temptation and had to indulge in
this guilty pleasure.
The businessmen ignored the homeless, the backpackers seemed engulfed in a travel
book, the young couple failed to see beyond the others’ eyes, and I… well I watched
it all, but mostly the drunks. They were so drunk I was surprised they could even
stand; actually at times they couldn’t. The sight was sad, but real, they snuck
into the dining area and would take any food they could find off the tables. The
employees, the iceberg to their Titanic tried to catch them and kick them out.
One drunk stole the plastic envelope holding the daily specials taped to the door,
his precision and efficiency resembled a Swiss clock maker taking his time, yet
offering his undying concentration and unfathomable meticulousness. After removing
the sheet from the door, he removed the tape carefully and concisely, next placing
the tape on the paper holding the specials. At this point, I noticed him look around
for employees or police, one was coming and he fell to the ground to avoid detection.
I must admit, I was rooting for the drunk, I understand the economic repercussions
creating higher costs and therefore higher prices for me, the consumer, but this
moral victory was worth so much more than that 50 grosz increase in the price of
frytki.
The employee had gone back into the kitchen and, like a ninja the drunk rose up
unseen and silent. He taped the paper sign on the door and escaped with the plastic
envelope. I knew by morning he most likely would have lost that piece of plastic,
and if not, he would not have remembered taking it, but victory was his and how
sweet it was.
The night, the experience was exhilarating. Katowice showed me her past and her
pollution, her highs and her lows, no nice architecture, but in many ways she’s
the embodiment of Poland; she’s an industrial giant and a transportation hub, she’s
essential, but hated, one can’t avoid her if he tries (I know because I tried),
she showed me her present, she showed me the entire Poland.
* * *
I soon found myself on a train as I bid Katowice farewell. As the pollution being
expelled from her smokestacks faded in the distance I was filled with an emptiness.
We took those students, businessmen, and travelers with us, but I felt like I left
a part of me behind with Katowice, a part of me I loved and cherished, but if nothing
else, Katowice deserved that from me.
My fellow passengers thanked the train for their escape, while I sank into my seat
overcome with emotions flowing out on paper… a love story for the ages.