From whoops to wonderful in Warsaw

This week I was going to write to you about how I managed to cause a comedy of chaos on my first ever Polish long distance train journey, but then I had an even more embarrassing comedic catastrophe so I’ve decided to go with that instead. So make yourself a cuppa, settle in, and enjoy this tragic tale I have titled ‘Whoops, Wrong Tour Guide!’

I’ve been in Poland for two weeks and following a week in Krakow, I’m now in Warsaw.

I’ve been wanting to come to Poland for a long time as I’ve written two historical novels set here - The Storyteller of Auschwitz, which came out last year, and The Stars Are Our Witness, which is coming out next month.

The Stars Are Our Witness is partially set in the Warsaw Ghetto, so I came here specifically to visit the scenes featured in the book, and retrace the footsteps of my characters, and the real-life people in the Polish Resistance who inspired them.

In order to have the most detailed and in-depth experience possible I decided to book myself on a guided walking tour of the ghetto. I paid for my ticket online and received a detailed email telling me where to go to meet my tour guide on the day.

So on the day I followed Google maps on my phone to the exact location, which took me to a street corner on a square. I looked around for a tour guide holding a sign with the company name on (as instructed by the email) but I couldn’t see them at all.

Then I noticed a large group gathering across the square from me, around a man who was holding a bright yellow umbrella with a walking tours logo on it.

The logo wasn’t the same as the one on my email but he was the only tour guide in the vicinity so I went over.

‘Excuse me,’ I said to a couple of Italian women in the group, ‘Is this the Warsaw Ghetto walking tour?’

‘Eeet ees the Jewish Tour, yes,’ one of them replied.

The tour guide then called us all to attention.

He was one of those professionally wacky types - the kind who are prone to becoming children’s TV presenters and wearing yellow dungarees.

He started joking about his name and how Polish names were notoriously difficult to spell and pronounce.

‘In fact,’ he said, ‘the only names that are worse to pronounce than the Polish, are the Irish. Their names are crazy!’

‘I know!’ I cried. ‘I have one of them.’

‘What is your name?’ he said with a frown, clearly irritated that I’d stolen his limelight.

‘Siobhan,’ I replied.

‘Huh! That is easy!’ he said. ‘S-i-o-b-h-a-n.’

‘Oh, people never normally get it,’ I mumbled, ‘especially Starbucks.’

At this point - when all eyes in the very large group were on me - my phone vibrated with a text message.

‘Hi Siobhan, here is Marzena your Guide. I’m at the meeting point. Looking forward to meeting you.’

I glanced across the square to the exact place Google maps had brought me to and saw a woman standing there on her own, holding a sign.

‘Oh no!’ I cried (while everyone was still looking at me) ‘I think I’m on the wrong tour!’

‘No you’re not!’ Mr Yellow Umbrella said, looking even more annoyed with me.

‘I am,’ I replied. ‘That’s the tour I’m meant to be on.’ I pointed to the woman, who had now lowered her sign, and looked just like a random bystander.

‘That is no tour!’ Mr Yellow Umbrella cried and the bewildered stares of the group intensified.

‘It is!’ I cried. ‘I’m sorry! I have to go!’ And then, with all eyes still on me, I raced across the square to the woman, who was indeed Marzena, my tour guide - and it turned out that I’d booked a private tour for one.

I told her what had happened and she thought it was hilarious. And I would have thought so too if it weren’t for the fact that she and Mr Yellow Umbrella then followed an almost identical circuit around the ghetto, so every ten minutes or so we’d run into the group and I’d be forced to endure bewildered and amused stares (and glares from Mr Yellow Umbrella) again and again and again.

I’ve written on the subject of making a fool of yourself when you’re travelling in an earlier edition of Wonderstruck (if you’re interested you can read it here) and I talked about how one of most liberating aspects of solo travel for me has been no longer caring if I make a fool of myself.

Over the past seven months I’ve been to so many countries where I don’t speak the language, and put myself in so many unfamiliar situations that these kind of ‘whoops’ moments are bound to happen. And they frequently do!

But, rather than feel eaten up with awkwardness like I might have been before, I feel completely chill. And that feels really good.

The ghetto tour was incredible, and my real tour guide was so interesting and nice - and the type to never cry, ‘Hey guys!’ and wear yellow dungarees.

At first glance, Warsaw is a very modern looking city with a skyline full of gleaming glass buildings, but if you know where to look, and look hard enough, you can still find remnants of the ghetto wall and some of the buildings.

When I was researching life in the ghetto for my novel I was blown away by the stories of courage, love and resistance I found. And it was this spirit of hope and resilience I wanted to celebrate in The Stars Are Our Witness.

One of which was the story of a man named Janusz Korczak, who ran an orphanage in the Warsaw Ghetto. He was also a children’s author and a great believer in encouraging children to live to their full creative and imaginative potential.

He helped eased the stress of life in the ghetto by encouraging the children in his orphanage to put on plays and create their own newspaper.  

Then, when the Germans began their mass deportations to the death camps, Korczak was offered the chance to escape, but he refused to leave his children.

Not wanting to scare them, he told the orphans that they were going on a special outing to the countryside, and he led them in a cheery procession through the ghetto to the train. They all perished in the concentration camp.

When I was researching for The Stars Are Our Witness I found many wonderful quotes from Janusz Korczak but I think this is my favourite…

“I am a butterfly drunk with life. I don’t know where to soar but I won’t allow life to clip my beautiful wings.”

I was so inspired by his zest for life and bravery I based a character on him, and yesterday I went to the site where Korczak’s orphanage used to stand and spent some time by this beautiful memorial to him. 

It can be very easy to be utterly demoralised by some of the atrocities happening in the world today, and I have had many moments of despair lately, wondering if humankind will ever learn the lessons of history. But then I remind myself that people like Janusz Korczak exist, and that we humans are capable of such incredible acts of love and bravery.

It’s this that I choose to focus on - in my real life, when I worry about my son in Ukraine and the innocent victims of war all over the world, and in my novels.

We humans are capable of the most wonderful things. Let’s never forget it.

Until next week, sending love,

Siobhan

PS: If you’re interested in finding out more about The Stars Are Our Witness or pre-ordering a copy before its release in April, you can find it on Amazon here. And HUGE thanks to anyone who does!