August 21, 2026
Wroclaw is a medium-sized city in Southwest Poland. A large church here has a bridge high up connecting the two steeples. Open for visitors, we climbed while reading the story of the bridge of the penitent. A pretty young girl, with no interest in marriage or work, fritters her time away on dresses and balls. Captured by an evil witch, she is condemned to a life of cleaning a bridge. Another witch feels her plight and seeks the help of a blind wizard. Returning to the bridge to free the girl, the good witch finds she is already gone (1). The stairs up to the steeple feature what is supposed to be spooky music.
During the communist era, people began painting gnomes on official government notices. After the end of communism in 1989, the gnome movement grew, with small statues appearing in the city. There are now estimated to be at least 1,000. Seeing many parents with young children searching for the statues with sticker books, we decided to do the same. As we found a gnome, I read a brief summary of the gnome translated from the book, before my wife rewarded me with the relevant sticker. Good, low-key way to pass the afternoon.
Achieving about 2/3 of the stickers, we returned to the two-steepled church for a piano recital, mostly works of the Polish composer Chopin. The rain and gathering darkness limited further gnome searching, so we headed to the Cathedral Island/Ostrów Tumski neighborhood (1). When Wroclaw converted its gas street light to electricity in the first half of the 20th century, this neighborhood kept the gas fixtures.
About 1/2 hour before sunset, the lampligher appears, donning a top hat and cape emblazoned with the city's crest. Accompanied by an entourage of gawking tourists (ourselves among them), he reaches up with a long pole tipped by a butane flame, and with a practiced hand, switches the gas on with a flick of a lever, and lights the four gas mantles on each lamp. Following for close to an hour, the rain convinced us to end the day as the lampligher neared the end of his nightly task. Home tomorrow.
(1) The story does not make sense to me either. I read a slim volume of Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales on the flight over that left me similarly perplexed.
(2) No longer an Island, but separated from town by the Oder River.
No comments:
Post a Comment