June 15, 2005

Problems at the Polish Slovak border

There often comes a time during my travels when chance takes me to the place where I feel like putting down my pack for several days. I have found paradise in Slovakia. I entered there through the back door yesterday.

The morning of departure, I was eager to move on to a new country for many reasons. One of them was that I was getting tired of hostels and in Slovakia according to my guide book, there are none: you rent rooms in people's homes. Young backpackers are usually pretty cool but at my age one likes to sleep in relative privacy.

In Krakow, I was in a ten-bunk dorm, sharing my nights with 9 boys. One was born in Lankawi, Malaysia and living in Australia, another was of Korean origin but adopted by Swedish parents. There were also one New Zealander, a couple of Irish, one Brit, one Brazilian from Rio, two Spaniards studying in Prague and a Dutch. An international crowd, right out of the pram! The most senior was not older than 25 years. Nice young men, a little on the riotous side but good fun.

I met just 2 of them when I first arrived. All of them apparently joined later at the pub on the night of my arrival. Word got around that there was this French woman living in Canada

staying in Dorm 1. A bit of an argument arose because the ones who had not met me yet kept saying that the others had gotten it wrong and that I had to be from Quebec. The Irish, already very drunk, were adamant. The woman was not from Quebec but from France! Eventually, they all crashed back to the dorm very late when I was fast asleep. The next morning, the 7 others, in turn, made a point of checking me out. I must have passed the test because the following evening they invited me to join them in their reveling at the pub.

A street in the little mountain town of Zakopane

A view of the Tatra mountains and the countryside outside Zakopane

So getting back on topic, I headed for Zakopane, a small town at the foot of the Tatra mountains. From there I was hoping to cross into Slovakia, hopefully the same day. I had no idea how long it would take or what transportation was like. However I did not have any choice as the only other option was the night train, very dangerous because of attacks and robberies.

Extremely scenic journey to Zakopane. Alpine decor. Picturesque wooden chalets with thatched roofs. Cascading rivers, spouting frothy white bouquets. The top of the Tatras was iced with pristine snow. Zakopane, the one and only Polish ski resort was a little too built up and commercial for my taste. I stopped there for a quick coffee and a hot pastry before hopping onto another bus bound for the border, unaware that complications were in the offing.

Beautiful alpine view toward the Tatra mountains

The back door into Slovakia, it's border with Poland

The coach dropped me right in front of the Polish immigration office. Beside it, separated by a glass partition, the Slovak immigration office. Both officers were chatting amiably, exchanging the gossip of the day when I showed up. I handed my Canadian passport. I have been using it instead of the French one for the simple reason that I had bought my East rail pass as a resident of Canada. My Canadian passport number is on it.

The Polish inspector looked at my passport, flipping the pages back and forth nodding his head. I knew why. He was looking for the entry stamp that the stupid Polish inspector had stubbornly refused to give me when I came in through the Czech Republic. I had insisted not only because I wanted to add a new stamp to my collection but also because I knew that Canadians cannot stay more than 3 months.

I showed the man the Czech stamp which proved that I had landed in Prague on May the 18th. The officer kept nodding his head in disapproval. Then I took out my train reservation voucher between Prague and Warsaw that I had kept. He grabbed it and picked up the phone, signaling me to wait. Was I in trouble...? An officer, looking more important than the passport inspector, came out of a building, took all my documents and invited me to sit on a bench telling me he would be back in 5 minutes.

Oh la la....! 5 minutes elapsed, then 10, 20, 25...I was getting impatient and worried. Finally, on impulse, I got up and walked to the immigration kiosk. The Polish and Slovak officers stopped their conversation abruptly, with an inquiring look in their eyes. I asked, "Was there a problem?"

They shrugged their shoulders. They obviously did not know. I felt awful, in the middle of nowhere, between two countries, without my Canadian passport and with two officers indifferent to my predicament. What was I going to do? I plunged. I fished out my French passport, showed it to them and told them that I wanted to use it to cross the border. EEC citizens do not need stamps in either Poland or Slovakia and can stay there ad vitam eternam. The Polish officer looking confused told me that I could not have two passports. Oh la la, had I got myself into thicker soup now? I explained as calmly as I could that I was allowed to have French and Canadian citizenships. The Slovak counterpart who seemed to be on my side nodded his head in agreement.

Then the two, forgetting my presence completely, started this heated discussion about, I guess, whether or not it was legal for me to hold two nationalities. I was flabbergasted and did not see how I was going to get anywhere when the other important looking officer reappeared. He approached me smiling. He apologized for the delay. He had had to call the Railway company. He handed me a very official paper. The document was full of stamps and flourished signatures and did mention to the minute at what time the train had crossed the border on the 6th of June 2005!

He gave my passport to the now totally silent two inspectors. They hurriedly stamped it. The head officer shook my hand, apologized for the officer who had not done his job on the Czech Polish border, told me where to catch the next bus and I was off.

What a relief! In a way I was lucky I could not take the night train. I would have run into problems, would have had to get off in the middle of the night and would have been stranded there until the next day.

Paradise in Slovakia

I set off, exhausted by all these emotions, crossed the bridge over the roaring river and saw a heavenly sign reading "Slovakia". I walked into the tiny hamlet of Lysa Polana, my first Slovak village. I sat down under a tree waiting for the bus.

The bus came. I hopped on. The driver was friendly and helped me haul my pack as there was no storage compartment under the vehicle. A pleasant relaxed atmosphere on board.

Slovakia Countryside with white wildflowers

Passengers were greeting each other, exchanging jokes and laughing. Pastoral, tranquil countryside. Lots of meadows fragrant with wild flowers. Sometimes we would pass a horse drawn carriage. I had entered Slovakia through the back door. I was seduced immediately. A pleasant change from cold, reserved, aggressive Poland. I was hooked at first sight.

Arrival in Levoca

I took a series of bus rides to reach my destination. When I saw Levoca pronounced "Levotcha", I fell in love right away. My first picture of it as we were approaching it was of a small medieval town nestled in the hollow of a gentle valley. I had found paradise at last.

Slovakia Countryside with red wildflowers

On to Levoca...