We used to build castles
Vacation memories: Part II
The man across the table from us is utterly devastated that the castle’s restaurant does not have any pasta. It is on the menu, but the chef has run out. Blame the Belarusians, I say. Anyway, the stuff would be a soggy mess, so far removed from the concept of al dente that one may as well chew wet toilet paper instead. He has had a lucky escape.
His fellow travellers are oblivious to his plight. Sitting alone, he watches them tuck into pierogi, barszcz and bigos. It gets worse for him. As he scans the menu for some other suitable sustenance, he also has to start fending off other visitors who want to sit with him. The restaurant is at full capacity, it is raining outside, and he has taken a whole table and six-seater bench to himself. Malbork Castle may be the biggest one of its kind in the whole big wide world, but its restaurant’s interior does not reflect its outer glory.
The Wife forces me to play a game of “Where are those people from?”
‘I don’t know.’
‘Can’t you tell by their accents?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Are they Spanish?’
‘No. None of the men have sweaters draped over their shoulders.’
‘Italian?’
‘Not with those running shoes, on, no.’
‘Greek?’
‘No. Nobody has a fully visible moustache.’
‘What about the women?’
‘I’m talking about them as well.’
‘Hungarian?’
‘Could be.’
‘They’re from Kazakhstan aren’t they?’
‘Probably.’
It turns out, in the end, that they are Brazilian.
Their strangely intoned Portuguese follows us up the staircase as embark on the next part of the castle tour.
The children fiddle with their headphones and guided tour wireless receiver systems. Their interest in our jaunt around the castle dipped significantly when it dawned on them that a) there are no real knights here and you cannot play with the glass-encased swords and b) The Wife thought it a good idea to book a three-hour tour.
The Teutonic Knights built Malbork Castle out of bricks in the 13th century to fight off marauding hordes of pagans. It must have been quite the imposing fortress back in the day.
The military order’s motto was “To help, to defend, to heal”. They didn’t just thrust swords into the bellies of barbarians. They also tended to the sick and the poor.
‘Try to have some empathy,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘Put yourselves in their shoes.’
‘We have to change our shoes?’
‘Never mind.’
I walk along, half-listening to the tour and half-wondering which of the various legends and tales associated with the Teutonic Knights could have been true, not being entirely sure in my own mind which of the legends I am running through are actually connected to the Teutonic Knights.
Did they steal and hide the Holy Grail used at The Last Supper?
NEGATIVE
Did they infiltrate royal courts and try to force Kings and barons to fight each other under false pretences?
AFFIRMATIVE
Did they discover America even before the Vikings, but hide the information from everyone as they had a plan to deport pagans there?
AFFIRMATIVE
Did they bring down the Holy Roman Empire?
AFFIRMATIVE
Did they plant heretical writings among the clergy to foster rebellion against The Church?
NEGATIVE
Did they build the pyramids? (What the actual heck?!?!?!?!? — Ed)
NEGATIVE
Did they disrupt and sabotage the Crusades?
OPEN TO FURTHER EXPLORATION
(Please seek professional help — Ed)
Collecting the headphones and guided tour wireless receiver systems is a tortured affair.
The Wife emerges out of the ticket office building with the sets and hands them to us all. I listen to the start of the guided tour.
‘It’s in Polish,’ I say.
‘No it isn’t.’
‘Yes, it is.’
It turns out that The Wife has been up to her usual routine: Gliding in like a local, speaking Polish to start with, becoming bamboozled by the reply (which has been delivered in Polish) and then trying to extract herself from the ensuing communication car crash, by saying she does not understand the lingo.
In this case, the woman behind the counter has ignored her explanation for not knowing what is going on, as well as her subsequent request for English guided tour wireless receiver systems and handed her whatever was on the desk behind her. It’s a good job we didn’t get Brazilian Portuguese — and that’s all I can say on the matter (what the… ? — Ed).
Returning to the visitor centre, The Wife politely asks for guided tour wireless receiver systems that play the tour in English. The woman behind the counter does not say a word or make eye contact with her. She does not even expend the energy needed to roll her eyes, such is her disdain. Instead, she presses a button on each guided tour wireless receiver system until they are all set at English and dumps them on the counter without so much as a grunt.
The Wife marches off to the starting point of the tour and we follow her. Although nobody really know where the starting point is, or indeed where much of where anything is, as there are no signposts or helpful directions anywhere. One has to rely on the guided tour wireless receiver system. Without it, one is completely lost, much like a barbarian survivor from a failed siege of Malbork Castle,
A bald-headed tour guide with a rock hard belly barrels into one of the Teutonic Knight’s old weapon rooms and proceeds to usher everyone who is not in his group out of the way. This is the tenth time he has done this in the space of half an hour.
He waves people away and then circles a white flag above his head like a deranged commie army general. Perhaps his father would be proud. Not that commies would ever wave a white flag, for them the battle is always on. And any “surrender” they offer is always a lie, hiding their plans to crawl back into the swamp they came from, only to emerge with a new plan to finally and completely destroy the West (I’m not sure where you’re going with this — Ed).
I have developed a rock-solid theory as to how the elimination of the Teutonic Order of Knights led to the eventual moral and spiritual collapse of the West, which is now just a cesspit of evil, ripe for collapse and destruction. I want to tell The Wife about my theory, but she appears to have gone and engaged in conversation with an attendant. I can see that she has employed her standard “I am a Polish lady, my dearest” tactic. The expressions on both her and the attendant’s face gives the game away. They both stare at each other with open mouths, desperately attempting to extract themselves from their futile attempts at communication. This is not a good time to throw a Teutonic Order historical timeline thesis into the mix.
The children’s headphones are hanging off their necks and they have pressed so many buttons on the guided tour wireless receiver systems that the pre-recorded tour is now being delivered in what sounds like Esperanto.
I am grateful that I have come to the conclusion that it is better to defend the honour of the Teutonic Knights, rather than besmirch their memory. Maybe I will write a book about it (please don’t — Ed).
We abort the tour at the two-hour mark after several toilet visits and incessant moaning from the children.
Trudging through the streets of Malbork back to the train station, the town centre of is surprisingly grim. Maybe the bad weather plays a factor. The north of Poland has had an atrocious summer and today is no exception. The dirty buildings, a depressing mix of pre-WWII buildings and communist-built residential monstrosities certainly look a lot worse when they share the same tinge of grey as the skies.
But there’s something else that brings down the mood.
Young people hanging around with not much to do but smoke, drink beer and watch tourists walk by. Old people bent over, shuffling along with shopping bags with a slight look of fear. Empty clothes stores. Mobile phone shops that also happen to sell vapes and who knows what else. Boarded up windows. Cheap kebab restaurants. Stray dogs urinating over lampposts. A grocery store with huge posters advertising the next “Lotto” draw.
All overshadowed by the castle on the hill, which, by all rights, should have spawned a better tourist-based local economy. But, for whatever reason, it’s not happened.
I then realise…
It is all due to The infernal Industrial Revolution. Which led to industrial-scale oppression of the poor, then to Marx’s hellish ideas, then to the Commie revolution.
We used to build castles, then we started building ugly black polluting factories and transportation. Not to keep the barbarians out, but to trap the ordinary folk inside.
The Teutonic Knights would have never allowed it to happen.
Progress report:
I am painfully close to reaching the end of the first draft of my new novella The Suspended Fourth (working title).
Take it easy. And thanks for reading.