Along for the Ride

BORDER CROSSINGS and check-points punctuated the 24-hour Paris to Warsaw train ride. The car had filled up in West Germany with Polish families returning from visits with relatives. Following tearful good-byes, lively conversation picked up in my compartment. Passengers fussed with overstuffed suitcases, fearful that they might burst open. Each family brought several large pieces of luggage stuffed with clothes and food. Cartons of orange juice spilled out of the purse of the young woman sitting next to me. I asked about the many parcels. "We have nothing," a Polish woman explained.

The most important issue for Poles today is the country's desperate economic situation. I found drab stores stocked but lacking variety. Citrus fruits and juices were unavailable. Sugar, butter, and meat are rationed; a cup of coffee cost as much as a medium-priced meal. Lines at meat stores often stretched through the door. I routinely noticed 10 or 15 people lingering outside two hours before a meat store opened.

A strong semi-legal undercurrent of capitalism buttresses this feeble, government-run economy. Private transactions keep people supplied with products not furnished by government stores. In each town, I discovered a marketplace selling clothes, shoes, books, and other merchandise, as well as food and produce. Some western-style goods are for sale; at a huge street fair in Gdansk, the Evi Strand blue jean booth drew a large crowd.

The current economic difficulties in Poland date from the political turbulence at the beginning of the decade. And while the economic situation seems to preoccupy most Poles on an immediate basis, political consciousness remains strong. Speaking Russian won little affection among the Poles I met, and several comments about the Soviets were met with undisguised hostility.

Reminders of German mistreatment of the Poles are not hard to find in a country which still bears the scars of World War II. The reconstucted old city in Warsaw has a Disney World atmosphere as hundreds of tourists throng the central squares. Most of the surrounding building facades look freshly painted and solid. They stand in contrast to the two or three decaying cracked portals which survived the war as more than rubble.

Krakow in southern Poland boasts the only old city which did not need thorough reconstruction. Outside the walls, synagogues and buildings with Hebrew writing provide testament to a formerly vital Jewish ghetto. Six hundred elderly Jews live in Krakow now as compared with 65,000 before the war.

But neither Soviet domination not economic hardship has erased the unique and often inspiring Polish identity. While camping in southeast Poland, one evening I huddled inside a warm log cabin with a group of other campers while rain poured. We sipped vodka prepared the traditional way: a mound of sugar on a small piece of bread melted over the liquor turning it light brown. A man played Polish folk songs on the guitar. Forgetful for the moment of the vodka's expense, the small group exchanged pleasantries that revealed an enduring commitment to national autonomy. One joke suggested just how long the Poles are prepared to wait. Comparing Communism to an airplane ride, one Polish camper observed, "You cannot get off until the plane lands."