Krakow, Day 5: Into the Salt Mines!

Sunday, October 21st

Imagine that you opened a mine all the way back in the 13th century. Now imagine that your mine stuck around and was developed for more than 700 years. How large do you think your mine would be? If it were anything like the Wieliczka Salt Mine, it would probably contain more than 2,000 separate chambers and over 25 miles of corridors. It might also have at least one underground lake and one chamber tall enough to allow bungee jumping and hot air balloon flight flight. Unfortunately, because you didn’t open a mine back in the 13th century, you’ll just have to be satisfied with lots of pictures from Wieliczka.

Never one to rush into a situation without some background knowledge, Elsa decided it was best to read up on the mine while we waited for our tour to start. Elizabeth may have been a minor distraction.

When our wait brought us outside, Chavonn and Elsa decided to have a seat. Little did they know, however, that this was the perfect time to be resting. Our descent into the mine was about to require that we go down a stair step or two.

To be more precise, there were about 378 steps, all packed into a narrow rectangular stairwell. Although hurrying down these steps provided a nice bit of morning exercise (and support for our argument that we should all get PE credit for this program), going around in circles so many times was less than ideal for Kelsey’s sanity.

Fortunately, studying mental illness for several weeks had more or less prepared us for the experience, and everyone made it to the mine safely.

Upon reaching the mine, our tour guide encouraged us to take advantage of the salty air’s medicinal properties by breathing deeply, promising that we would add at least a day onto our life by doing so. The more adventurous among us, however, wanted to experience the salt a bit more directly, and there was only one way left to do so given that the mine had stopped producing table salt in 2007. Kelsey demonstrated.

Meanwhile, Michael had forgotten our guide’s request not to try tasting something else. [Insert terrible joke about ‘shocking’ experiences.]

After dehydrating ourselves so quickly by tasting the mine’s salt, it was already time to take a break.

Fortunately, the benches offered an excellent vantage point for examining one of the mine’s many statues carved entirely out of rock salt. As a true student of art, however, Bettina once again longed for a more thorough understanding of the piece.

Unlike those of us who may have been disappointed or overwhelmed by the rather salty taste of rock salt, Bettina’s found herself rejuvenated after sampling the local delicacy. So much so, in fact, that she felt herself capable of tearing down part of the corridor we were in.

In contrast, Polly and Allison were much calmer, happy just to bask in the corridor’s eerie light.

A short distance later we had reached another brief stopping point.

This time, we were able to gaze upon a set of sculptures depicting the discovery of salt in Wieliczka.

It was then Elsa’s turn to try bringing the tunnel down around us. Fortunately, the petrified wooden beams were more than strong enough to resist her assault.

In addition to not being crushed by over 100 feet of earth, our spirits were lifted by our humorous tour guide.

A short distance farther, though, the time for laughter was over, and it was instead time to relive the harsh working experiences. As indicated by the smiles, some of us were in denial regarding the difficulty and misery of the task at hand.

After mining enough salt to pay for our admission to the mine, we descended even further into the bowls of the earth. By the time we had stopped descending for the day, we were underground nearly 450 feet underground. The maximum depth in the entire mine, though, is over 1,000 feet underground.

With our progress into the mine we encountered even more impressive works of art. Perhaps the most impressive room in the mine was the Chapel of Saint Kinga. 

Everything in this chapel—from the altar to the imitation of Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper to the crystals in the chandeliers—is made out of rock salt. Similarly impressive is the fact that everything in the chapel was carved by three men, none of whom ever worked on the chapel during the same time periods.

After a brief stop, though, it was time to leave, and we were back in the relatively cramped corridors.

It was there that we were passed by this rather interesting character:

Although we didn’t find any more magical creatures lurking around the tunnels, we did find an underground restaurant, and that was magical enough for us. After refueling, it was time for a couple of group pictures.

For Danny, it was an excellent opportunity to reinforce his position as that-awkward-guy-who-tries-to-sneak-into-the-background-of-all-your-pictures.

After lunch, it was time to leave the mines. Fortunately, though, we didn’t have to walk back up the more than 400 feet we had descended. Instead, we entrusted our lives to something of a sketchy elevator.

Apparently, the 30-second elevator ride was exhausting for Elsa.

Everyone on the opposite side of the sidewalk, however, seemed to be doing fine, except perhaps for Kelsey.

Before getting back on the bus, there was even enough time to begin a game of Contact.

Our next stop for the day was in the communist community of Nowa Huta (that’s pronounced NO-vuh HOO-tuh), or The New Steel Mill. As indicated by its name, the town was built next to an enormous steel mill, and it was meant to be an ideal city for workers. As a result, the area originally featured such inspirational street names as Lenin Alley, October Revolution Alley, and Six Year Plan Alley. Unfortunately, though, our tour guide had name that was far less inspirational: Olaf. Learning this fact was a rocky start to the tour.

By some standards, the architecture in Nowa Huta might seem pretty bland. When it was built, though, it was supposed to be awe-inspiring to peasants who had never seen anything like it. Nowadays, the area is valued by those looking to live in a quiet neighborhood.

To the disappointment of the area’s many religious residents, Nowa Huta was designed without any churches. Eventually, though, the residents were able to design and build their own churches. One result of this was Arka Pana, or the Ark of the Lord. Although the statue with its arms extended in the background may look like Superman, it actually depicts Pope John Paul II.

Despite being near Nowa Huta’s steel mill, none of the metal used to build the church was made there. The church’s exterior, though, is covered in over two million pebbles collected by members of the church’s congregation while they were on vacation.

After touring Nowa Huta, we returned to Krakow proper, where we had a few more hours to wander around doing whatever we liked. Eventually, though, we met up at Krakow’s train station, and our five days in the city came to an end as we boarded a night train back to Prague. You could see in everyone’s faces that they were sad to be leaving after such an enjoyable excursion.

Despite the intense emotions of her roommates, though, Gena was studiously preparing for the next day’s nationalism class.

Elizabeth, as always, was playing it cool.