Krakow: a city of dreaming spires, ancient castles, dragons, myths, cobbled streets, cosy bars and coffee shops; an intellectual hub, a university town for seven hundred years; a favourite on the stag night circuit and the biggest tourist pull in Poland. Surely saturated as far as tourist ideas go? Well, since 2004, ‘Crazy Tours’ has thought otherwise. Intended as an offbeat alternative to the usual historical trudge around the Old Town, this Michael Palin–endorsed spin around Krakow’s least-loved quarter – Nowa Huta – has been expanding exponentially since its inception, and shows no signs of slowing down. I decided to find out what is making this one of the great entrepreneurial success stories in Poland….

Welcome to Krakow...

I waited outside my apartment for my chauffeur to arrive: shivering, despite being heavily wrapped up. Winter in 2010 as cold as any I could remember. Sure enough, and bang on time, a bright blue Trabant pulled up. “Welcome to Krakow” cried my cheerful driver for the day, a bright young chap called Cyril, understandably oblivious to the fact that I live here. One of the knowledgeable team of ‘Crazy Guides’ set up six years ago by Michal Ostrowski (aka Crazy Mike), he chatted amiably as we sped up the road out east of Krakow and to the Communist legacy that is Nowa Huta. Hunched into a rather uncomfortable space, camera and notepad wedged between my knees, the car lurched into fourth gear and nudged 50km/h, pretty much its top speed, as Cyril explained some of Nowa Huta’s history to me.

As a long-term ex-pat, I was already well aware of this odd curiosity that sits on the city’s eastern fringes, an unwanted adopted child that is a bit of an embarrassment to Krakow’s often sniffy residents. Built as a kind of antidote to the perceived ‘intellectualism’ of Krakow, and as a proletarian utopia in the brave new world of post-war, Stalin-controlled Poland, Nowa Huta (literally ‘New Steelworks’) was never popular amongst Poles, despite the wealth of propaganda. Today, it’s considered by most Krakowians as, at best, dull and uninspiring, and at worst downright dangerous.

One of Poland's most colourful districts

“The things that people say about Nowa Huta today are all myths,” explained Cyril. “They base their opinions on what existed twenty, thirty years ago. They have memories like elephants.”  True enough; having been to Huta on many occasions, I have never witnessed any violence or trouble, never seen or breathed any pollution from the now not-so-new factory. And yet, nary will you hear a positive word spoken about this area by a true Krakowian; they simply refuse to give it any credit whatsoever; as if blind to any possible benefits a trip there might have.

As we walked into the only restaurant in central Nowa Huta, Stylowa (‘Stylish Restaurant’, somewhat implausibly), stomping the snow from our boots on the doorstep, I realized what a refreshing contrast this made to the international tourist spot that is Krakow’s Market Square. Here in Huta one is confronted by few symbols of ‘modern’ Poland; instead, you are transported back to about 1973, when this was the cultural centre of a community which made up for in spirit what it may have lacked in true style. Busts of Lenin adorn the tables; an old man slurps his soup in the corner, a couple of women in their 60’s with big wigs and lots of makeup chat animatedly whilst sipping Zywiec beer. At 2pm. A suspicious-looking man leans on a fruit machine by the toilet whilst a lady guards the toilets zealously, and only lets you pass if you grace her palm with 50 groszy (10p). There is a general air of faded grandeur.

There's a little Lenin still left in Krakow

“This place used to be where it all happened”, explains Cyril, “it was the place where locals would meet on a Saturday night, dance, sing, drink and be merry. Many a marriage in this town had this place to thank”. As I gazed around the room, at the gaudy but charming furniture and curtains, the thin tablecloths with cigarette burns in them, it seemed we had walked into a working museum, a glorious survivor of Communist times – perhaps one of the few left in modern Poland. Cyril spread out old maps and plans of Nowa Huta in front of me, examples of the ambitious idealism of the Communist architects. He explained the style and scale of the buildings here were designed as a riposte to Krakow, to give the people of Nowa Huta a sense of grandeur. Indeed, wandering through the arches and arcades around Plac Centralny, one is reminded of Italianate Renaissance design, a certain classical whiff in the air which may one day be appreciated by locals who currently deride this so-called ‘Communist Realist’ style as hopelessly passé and charmless.

“During the summer months, this place comes alive”, says Cyril, dreamily. “The streets are clean, there isn’t much traffic, and there are so many parks and trees. And the girls here…” he tails off at this point and I’m left to fill the gap, as it were, mentally. We finish off our cups of coffee and head out into the cold again, bidding farewell to the barmaid who is bemused to see me taking a snap of the toilet attendant.

Whistle while you work

Cyril whisks me to the eastern flank of Nowa Huta – to the foreboding gates of the steelworks after which the town is named – the entrance to what was one of the largest steel producers in eastern Europe, and also one of Europe’s biggest polluters. “Today, production is only a fraction of what it used to be, but they still employ around 10,000 people here, though the chimneys don’t show it,” Cyril tells me as I gaze up at the sign outside. It simply reads ‘Huta im. T. Sendzimira’ and is somehow reminiscent of the ‘Arbeit Macht Frei’ sign outside Auschwitz. “This place dwarfs central Krakow. There are shops, buses, roads in there, it’s a whole world in itself”. Unfortunately for us, this world remains a mystery to the casual tourist, as it’s strictly open to employees only, except on rare occasions such as when the Sacrum Profanum festival welcomed Kraftwerk and Aphex Twin to Krakow. No doubt the industrial grandeur suited them. “When you stand on a hill outside Nowa Huta you really get an idea of the size of this place – it’s huge,” says Cyril.

Communal life

It would be great to see this for myself, but instead we head off to have a more domestic taste of Communism – to one of the blocks outlying Plac Centralny (confusingly streets here do not have names, and you just get district names and block numbers, which admittedly does add to the Communist mystique but which must be a nightmare for postmen). “This flat will give you a unique flavour of Poland in the 70’s,” promises Cyril. I am led into the front room where I am shown a short video on a 12 inch black and white tele about Nowa Huta’s construction. Kierunek: Nowa Huta (Direction: Nowa Huta) shows a fascinating glimpse of Communist-era propaganda; lots of smiling, healthy workers in the sunshine and robust-looking women mucking in – a utopian vision which was far from reality, but which nevertheless adds to the kitschy, fun and possibly rose-tinted look at Poland’s recent history. The room is adorned with cheap and esoteric Communist memorabilia: shiny kitsch ornaments, plastic flowers, tacky wallpaper, even a packet of 80s ‘papierosy’ – Communist cigarettes, which you had to pinch the end of to create a ‘filter’ and prevent sucking the tobacco into your lungs.

A drink to your health?

I am led into the kitchen and shown a vast collection of empty vodka bottles, including the ‘workers’ choice, Czerwony Kartka (Red Card), a brand which no doubt stripped paint if required. Not recommended, although a glass of Wyborowa may be proffered to Crazy Tourists. “Cheap, but effective”, grinned Cyril. “People had to have fun. The state encouraged it – and they encouraged  pre-marital sex too, by making condoms widely available.” (This was confirmed by a very uncomfortable-looking sheath on display in the bedroom). “Anything to undermine the church, who frowned on this.” Indeed. I very much liked this flat, a great insight into communist era living, and accurate – down to the minutest details, such as shampoo bottles and soap in the bathroom and even a basic top-loading primitive washing machine. “People weren’t so poor – they just didn’t have anything good to buy!” Cyril said as we made our way to our final port of call for the day – the ‘Arka Church’.

Direction: Nowa Huta

“This church,” explains Cyril, “is a huge symbol for the people of Nowa Huta. They fought hard to get it, and only after years of wrangling did the Communist regime finally allow the people to build it; although they refused them permission to use steel from the local works – meaning that the structure took ten years to complete”. The Noah’s Ark-shaped building is not exactly easy on the eye; it is a grey, concrete affair. But the symbolism of this place to the locals, devout Catholics as much as any other sector of Polish society, should not be underestimated. A tank that we passed on the way here was a reminder of the oppression these people felt – and religion was the one reference point, beyond vodka – on which they could pin their hopes. A sobering thought, and one that makes you realize why Pope John Paul II – a statue of whom stands outside Arka Pana – is still such an adored figure in Poland, his part in the fight against Communism still remembered gratefully by Poles. Nowa Huta today stands as a stark reminder of that fight, and the 50 years Poland spent trapped behind the Iron Curtain, which may explain its unpopularity here. ‘Crazy Tours’ has tapped into a vein of foreign curiosity and appreciation of the recent past which the Poles, at the moment, simply don’t share. Maybe with a few more Cyrils around to spread the word, in a few years they will, I thought, as we sped back to ‘normality’ and Krakow’s dreaming spires came into sight once more. ‘Direction: Nowa Huta’. What a great catchphrase, just Crazy enough to make sense.

Click here for more info on Crazy Guides Communist tours.

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“How do you murder the King of England and get away scot-free?” Boomed a deep voice from above a flowing black trench coat. This was the dilemma facing me and around twenty others in a dark corner of the City of London. Huddled together on a freezing, gusty evening perhaps was not the ideal time to contemplate such a scenario, but, nevertheless, we listened intently.

Feeling the chill on the Ghost Walk

“How do you kill the head of the English royal family,” the voice continued to quizz us, “in such a way that would not show up long after his death?” There was a pause and a ripple of curiosity ran through us. No, we were not fresh recruits in a subversive anti-monarchist movement – armed with a Tardis and vial of Polonium 210. We were the captive audience of the London Ghost Walk and our guide, the author Richard Jones, was gleefully recounting one of his favourite tales. The wretched King in question was Edward II… the method of execution a red-hot spit, rammed up His Royal Highness’ arse by two assailants, killing him outright.

This wicked deed was ordered by none other than his very own ‘trouble and strife’, the enchanting Isabella who craved Blighty for herself and her native France. However, despite her impious behaviour, Isabella was a devout Catholic and, concerned that the murder would not fly with St. Peter come Judgement Day, she demanded to be buried as a monk in attempt to fool God’s loyal doorman. Her vengeful son Edward III had other ideas, however: he buried his mother in her wedding dress and threw the preserved heart of his father in the casket for good measure – thus scuppering her hopes of eternal rest.

A capital of creepy courtyards

“And here on misty autumn mornings,” Jones’ bellowing voice sings to a crescendo, “You can often see a beautiful but angry ghost, skulking amongst the tombstones, clutching before her the still-beating heart of her murdered husband…” Yikes!

Those well-versed in the history of the capital will tell you that tales such as Isabella’s are not unfamiliar. London has always been a ghost town – a city of great tragedy, loss and constant upheaval. As historian Peter Ackroyd wrote in London: The Biography, “London is a city perpetually doomed. There have always been epidemics and waves of death within the metropolis.” Plagues and pogroms, blazes and blitzes… for Jones it’s natural that claims of lost souls wandering the streets of modern day Londinium abound, and why his walks are so popular.

On misty autumn mornings...

“They’re great stories of things happening in history that have come back to haunt London,” he tells me, as we sit supping our pints in a local pub following the 90-minute tour. “The past and the present mingle nicely. For example, right next to Newgate Street, a busy main road, overlooked by Merryl Lynch’s towering modern office and you’re surrounded by old railings, antique gaslights – you are standing on centuries-old gravestones. An ancient burial ground.” It was over this street and others that we had obediently followed Jones through the dark, gloomy, late-December streets of the City, hearing a series of delightful tales along the way. We learnt of Scratching Fanny on Cock Lane (yes, really), of the anguished screams of human experiments emanating from the Royal College of Surgeons, and the friend of Charles Dickens who scared the spock out of Patrick Stewart when he was appearing in ‘Waiting For Godot’ (incidentally, Jones’ favourite scary anecdote).

But, tales aside for the moment, I wanted to know how and when Jones’ obsession with the paranormal began. “I used to have an old Irish uncle that used to tell me ghost stories as a kid. I loved it.” he tells me. ”But what got me into the really spooky stuff was the original ‘Great Expectations’. I can still see that image to this day, when little Pip goes into see Miss Haversham for the first time….”

A clandestine gathering

As somebody who has shaken and stirred his way behind the bars of the West End, I didn’t find the London Ghost Walk particularly frightening per se. (For me the frenzied rush before closing, during which cocky drinkers would down a Jeroboam of sambuca in 10 minutes, would usually result in the city’s most terrifying transfigurations -Isabella’s ghost had nothing on Big Trev from Billericay!) However, the Ghost Walk was very informative, and, thanks to Jones’ well-honed gift for storytelling, highly entertaining, as well as a great way to get out and experience hidden parts of the city other tours (and locals) tend to ignore.

Nothing on Big Trev

But as I prepare to switch of my digital voice recorder, I decide to ask our guide a final question he has no doubt heard countless times before. “Yes, I believe that there’s something there, and the term ‘ghosts’ is as good a name as any,” Jones says. Although he doesn’t believe it’s the dead haunting the streets of London, he sees it as a collection of ‘place memories’; spaces where people once experienced strong emotions. “I think they leave an imprint; something certain people can hear, smell, or feel. But they don’t have to be sorrow or terror,” he emphasizes. “They can be happy emotions, too.”

Unlike a terrified, convulsing Big Trev. Last we ever saw of him, at All Bar One in Leicester Square, he was on the floor by the fruit machine in the foetal position – where he was heard, smelt, and stomach-pumped, by the wonderful people from St. John’s Ambulance. Now that was a truly scary London encounter.

For more information, tour/ticket prices and booking check the official London Ghost Walk website.

More Creepy Crawlies & Terrifying Tours!

Looking for other scary London attractions? Here’s a run down of some more frighteners…

Jack The Ripper Tour
Richard Jones is your guide again… this time following the footsteps of the notorious serial killer ‘Jack The Ripper’. History buffs with a taste for the macabre will love this gruesome walking tour of the East End and the chance to see original Victorian photos relating to the crimes.

It was more scary before CCTV

London Dungeons
A more visceral than cerebral scare, the London Dungeons offer a theatre full of fearful rides and recreations… such as the Drop Ride of Doom and the Boat Ride to Hell. Encounters with Sweeney Todd and Jack The Ripper await the brave-hearted.

London Bridge and London Tombs
Two terrors for the price of one. Lavish special effects and actors bring London Bridge alive through the ages in this interactive adventure, complete with pick pockets and criminals. And prepare to don sword and shield to repel a Viking invasion! Meanwhile you may wish to brush up on zombie lore before entering the London Tombs… watching Shaun of the Dead won’t be enough to save you!

The Tower of London
Famous for Beefeaters, ravens and the Crown Jewels, this notorious prison has seen more than its fair share of executions in its 900 year history. Sir Walter Raleigh and a headless Ann Boleyn are amongst the A-list of ghosts who continue to haunt this tower of terror.

Ghost Bus Tour
If you thought London transport was a nightmare at the best of times, then you should definitely avoid this hellish ride. Your creepy conductor acts as guide for this sinister sightseeing tour, which takes place in the only surviving bus of the Necropolis transport company which ran hearst services in the capital until 1967.

Pasaje Del Terror
Yet more theatrical scares await at the Pasaje del Terror in London’s Trocadero. First opened to the public in Bilbao (hence the Spanish name!) this international interactive attraction will expose visitors to some of cinema’s most chilling baddies… but is it scary? Hell yes… at least according to Radio 1’s Scott Mills who screamed 18 times.

If you prefer to be petrified over a pint, then check the Fluid Foundation’s guide to London pubs with horrible histories.

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“What’s your favourite tube line?” she replied. Not quite the answer I was expecting but that, one girl I asked assured me, was the best conversation she had been asked during speed dating. Yes, the highlight of her evening had been discussing sweaty armpits on overcrowded trains during the London rush hour. I could only begin imagine the worst horrors she had suffered.

The first clue is Capture a Stranger

What I’ve felt speed dating has always needed is something to interact over. So when Urban Travel Blog asked me to write an article about shoot dating in London I was intrigued. However when the editor explained that “shoot” was a reference to artistic camera work, not murdering clay pigeons and I knew I was in trouble. “Absolutely no experience in photography is necessary, just creative flair!” reassured the organiser. I was in real trouble. But I’m not one to back down from a challenge just it’s going to make me look like an idiot, and so it was I found myself in the attractive Victorian-era Bathhouse in the heart of London’s old city.

The gloves are off for the second clue

It was a format the organisers, Shoot Experience, had tried before but the dating aspect was new. As your team changes for each clue you get to meet a series of guys or girls and, just like speed dating, you mark on your card anybody you want to see again. If you both mark each other then the organisers will put you in touch after the event.

Our reporter proves to be a wise man

When the second clue came round I thought I was prepared, but I was about to discover new depths of meaning for that word. We had been advised to bring props and one of the girls in my next group had taken that advice to heart and packed a small fancy dress shop into her backpack. The clue was “You gotta have faith” and before I knew it I was wrapped in a shawl, waving a star above my head with a rather unconvincing baby Jesus lying in my lap. The situation was absurd. I had no idea what I was doing, but I suddenly realised I was having fun. What’s more, the impetus to think of creative answers to the clues had all but driven the dating aspect of the day from my mind. As out of my depth as I was I had to admit that the guys from Shoot Experience had succeeded. They had removed the interview element from speed dating.

A flashback to speed dating ...Shudder!

And the girl that I’d marked on my dating card? Well we met up in the bar afterward, she proudly brandishing the camera that she’d won. I started reeling off a few of my traveller’s tales but startlingly enough that didn’t seem to put her off and not only did I find that she’d marked me on her card too but the conversation has been continuing since. Now that’s a lot more than I ever got out of speed dating!

For more info on Shoot dating, as well as photo events, workshops and activities, check out the Shoot Experience website.

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