Free Travel

Having spent a wonderful few days in my new favourite city, it was time to head for Kaliningrad in Russia. Getting to Frederic Chopin International (Warsaw) airport is possible by public transport. It was a short walk to the tram-stop. Climbing several flights of steps, while carrying a heavy suitcase was another thing entirely. I’m positive I didn’t put bricks in it. Having looked at the timetable and route guide, and watched a possible ride disappear into central Warsaw, I waited for my tram. The electronic info board told me I had about 10minutes to wait. It arrived early. I struggled my way onto the almost empty tram, found a seat, balanced the suitcase on its end and rode the 2km to the bus stop. Nobody asked me for money. I was ready and willing to pay.
I departed the tram, and hunted for my bus stop. My map said I need either a #175 or a #188 bus. It took a moment to find the right stop, as there were several nearby, but the confusion was soon resolved. I joined a crowd of Varsovians and we all piled into the #175 that quickly arrived. Fr much of the bus ride, I had to stand and keep an eye on the suitcase. Not that anyone was trying to steal it, but it had a nasty tendency of attacking small children, dogs, and anything else smaller than itself. Once again, nobody asked for money.
I found out later, talking to fellow students, I should have bought a city travel pass at one of the many kiosks dotted around Warsaw. Oh well, it was a few zloty saved. The only payment I made was when the suitcase, in a fit of pique, decided to attack my leg when I got off the bus at the airport. I gave it a sound thrashing, which kept it quiet for the rest of the day’s travels.
Check-in was a breeze. I passed through border control and into the international concourse – the expensive part of any airport. With several hours to kill, I did some Sudoku’s and had a hot chocolate with chilli. Definitely different from the normal airport fare. Tasty, spicy, and thoroughly refreshing. The flight to Kaliningrad (or Koenigsberg as it was when East Prussia existed and was part of Germany) was uneventful. I had a window seat with a wonderful view of the wing. I sat beside a young Russian chap, and though we didn’t say much, seemed to understand each other.
Getting into Russia went smoothly: show the passport, grunt, and thank the Border Guard when he’s finished inspecting the visa. Apparently mine is of the old variety. Maybe they don’t get many Kiwis going to Russia, and the Russian Embassy got a hundred year’s supply. My bag arrived promptly, and I walked out of the airport to look for a bus. Or a train. Or some form of public transport. And a bank to change my zlotys to roubles. Nothing in sight. There was my seat mate loading his bags into a Lexus.
“Would you like a ride into town?” he asks in good English, once he finds out where I’m going. Love one. So I score a free ride into Kaliningrad. I even get dropped at hotel in the middle of town. Saved me a 20km walk. The bus does go to the airport, but cycles between the arrival and departure terminals and town every half hour. In Kazan, I met Henryk from Sweden, who had to pay the taxi 200RR to get from the arrival to the departure terminal, a distance of 2km.
Negotiating a room at the Kaliningrad Hotel (there is more than one hotel in Kaliningrad, but I was in the one of that ilk) was a strong test of my Russian. Most people were paying cash. I wanted to be difficult and pay with a credit card. So I had to wait. The wait was all of 10 minutes. I filled in a form, handed over my passport, which they kept and got a key. I found myself on the second floor, with a nice room and a very handy toilet. I then went to change some money.
The hotel had its own Bureau de Change (or Обмен Валюты (Obmen Valyuti) in Russian). This is because Kaliningrad, having been more or less ignored under Soviet rule, is now an investment zone and attracts a number of foreign businessmen. But they don’t cash traveller’s cheques. For that I needed to find Cberbank. The hunt was on. I tried in the shopping mall opposite. Nope. They had a branch, but it was only tiny, and only handed customer enquiries. Try down the street. I walk down the street a distance. No sign of Cberbank. I try on the other side of the road, heading back to the hotel. Not there either. So I try another bank. “Go to Cberbank! It’s that way! Idiot foreigner.”
Finally I find Cberbank, and the right window, and then go through the usual long-winded process of changing traveller’s cheques into spendable currency. Of course, they want to see the passport. I had planned ahead and stole it back from hotel reception before this excursion into deepest Kaliningrad. They were used to TC’s here and it took about 5 minutes to get a decent wedge of roubles. Dinner beckoned.
Next time: Historic Kaliningrad: Some repairs needed.