It only takes two hundred and thirty nine steps to reach a completely different city. To reach a song from the past whose ending blends with the snow that falls without sound.
At ground level in Krakow, raw pink and purple lights pulse into the vodka-warmed streets where shadows lead to staircases that crawl into underground clubs.
Here, though, at 54 metres above that icy ground, I find an open invitation to drift back through Poland’s past.
Krakow and the Hejnal
The attic of St Mary’s Basilica, the stately church that overlooks Europe’s largest square, has more than just bats in its belfry. In fact, it has a dashing young fireman who goes by the name of Michal Kolton.
Kolton, in a position he took over from his father and grandfather before him, belongs to a tradition that’s endured through these snowy skies for nearly eight hundred years.
Every hour, on the hour, Kolton throws open a wood-trimmed window, thrusts his trumpet into the icy air and launches into what locals called the hejnal (pronounced something like hey-now if you’re one of those people who still read aloud in their heads like, er, me.)
With a flourish and a flounce the musical notes float away into the air…da-dada-da-da da d-…and then stop with a sudden choke.
I shift uneasily and pretend I haven’t noticed.
He closes the window, take a few paces along the creaky floor and repeats the procedure at the next window. Da-dada-da-da da d- An exclamation, if there can be such a thing, of unexpected silence.
It happens again. And again.
Either the man must have military precision hiccups or something else is at play.
Reassuringly, it turns out to be something else.
Back in the days, a city’s resident fireman would play the warning hejnal bugle call to warn of smoke and fire or invading forces. During one such invasion (by the Tartars in 1241) the lone brave night watchman received an arrow in the neck for his troubles, cutting him off mid bugle call and launching a custom that went on to survive the Nazis.
Kolton’s not the only fireman in Krakow, of course, and a team of six more keep the cycle going, one by one, hour by hour, day by day, century by century.
Another new hour approaches and Kolton plays his cut-short tune again before throwing a self-conscious wave to the blots on the ground that cheer far below.
As for me? I’m enthralled by this city that shows me something new each time I return.
I open another window – and watch the snow fall.
Photos of Krakow
Disclosure: I visited Krakow on this occasion with assistance from the Polish Tourist Board
Ah, *That’s* what it looks like up there!
Years ago I sent a radio journalist to Krakow (for my programme on Classic FM) and he came back with an interview & recording of the trumpet player, and his abrupt ending. But until now I only had that soundscape image in my mind. TY :)
Ah…it would be good to put the soundscape together with the images. Such a beautiful experience…
My favourite city in the world, love your pictures, and love watching people’s faces in Glowny Rynek when the Hejnal stops so abruptly.
Thank you. I love Krakow…a great city. Cheers.
I love Krakow. These photos and your writing definitely capture its beauty.
Thank you. I love the city – great place.
Great shots! I want to check out Krakow now too!
Such an interesting city. One of the best in Europe, I think.
I went to Krakow and loved it so much that I went again. The first time was in the dead of winter, but we loved everything, including the underground bars with university students listening to music. A very friendly town, and of course, very beautiful, as your photos show.
This was my second trip too but I’d love to go back in summer…I expect there’s a different feel to the place then.