THINGS HAVE CHANGED
NATHAN BOLEY explores the Polish suburb Nowa Huta
Poland is having a moment. It’s been 30 years in the making.
The ancestral home of so many Pittsburghers whose predecessors emigrated to the United States years ago, Poland has blossomed since regaining its independence in 1989.
Many Polish cities, having limped out of Soviet occupation filled with gloomy apartment blocks and rusting factories, feel rejuvenated and lively.
Krakow is arguably the most popular of these cities. Having escaped the utter destruction wrought by World War II, Poland’s secondmost populous city offers heaps of European old-world charm.
There is the stunning main square, where hordes of tourists and locals carouse until the wee hours of the morning. There are many, many churches, more per square mile than anywhere outside of Rome — including the home church of Karol Wojtyla, Krakow’s favorite son and former archbishop... before he was anointed Pope John Paul II.
However, just a few miles outside of the main tourist area sits Nowa Huta, a former communist suburb constructed around a steel mill that was designed (allegedly) using blueprints stolen from a Pittsburgh plant.
Nowa Huta is where old meets new in Poland. Dreary Soviet-style apartment blocks have become some of Krakow’s hottest real estate. The hippest cocktail bars in Krakow often sit on the same blocks where hungry residents once waited hours for a stale loaf of bread.
Poland’s transition
In 1989, the Soviet Union’s days were numbered. Thrust into defensive tactics by a rising tide of anti-Soviet sentiment throughout the Eastern Bloc, the ruling Communist Party agreed to hold open elections in Poland — though they conveniently withheld the majority of the seats for themselves.
The goal of the “free” elections was to appease the increasingly popular labor union known as Solidarity. However, the plan backfired horribly; the communists didn’t win a single contested seat.
Poland’s elections gave courage and incentive to other members of the Eastern Bloc who desperately sought their independence. Just four months later in November 1989 (and just over two years after Ronald Reagan urged Mikhail Gorbachev to “tear down this wall”), the Berlin Wall fell, marking the end of the Iron Curtain.
Making a statement
Built in the aftermath of World War II at the behest of Joseph Stalin, Nowa Huta was designed by the Soviets to be the perfect socialist town, complete with supermarkets, clothing stores, restaurants, parks and anything else one could need. The communists wanted there to be no need for residents to leave Nowa Huta for anything.
Many Poles were desperate for work and money at the end of the World War II, so an idyllic utopia with steady work, decent pay and comfortable housing sounded like a dream come true — and for a while, it was. The men rode the tram to the steel mill, the women took care of the home while their husbands worked and the children played in one of Nowa Huta’s many sprawling parks.
Unfortunately, poor economic decisions by the communists led to Nowa Huta’s demise in the 1980s. When the Soviet Union collapsed, Nowa Huta too was falling apart. Many older Krakovians still consider it “the ghetto.”
A leafy, wide boulevard, perfect for both May Day parades when the workers were happy and for Soviet tanks to threateningly rumble on when they weren’t, leads directly from Nowa Huta’s main square to the massive steel mill.
In a bit of poetic justice, Nowa Huta’s main square, where a statue of Stalin once stood, has been renamed after Ronald Reagan. The Gipper is a beloved figure throughout Poland for his strong anti-communist stance, with several memorials dedicated to him in both Krakow and Warsaw.
It’s not a universally accepted designation, however. Some Poles aren’t thrilled to have a foreign leader’s surname on a place of such historical significance — particularly when there are so many Poles, including Pope John Paul II and Nobel Peace Prize winner Lech Walesa, who made their own courageous stands against the authoritarian regime. Many Nowa Huta residents simply call it “Central Square.”
The steel mill, originally named after Vladimir Lenin, is still functioning today, but only at 20% capacity. It may shut down completely as soon as next year.
I asked my guide about the rumor as to whether the steel mill had been built using blueprints stolen from a Pittsburgh plant by a communist spy, but she couldn’t confirm it.
“I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, “but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
It’s essentially impossible to see the mill even when one is standing directly in front of its entrance. The plant itself is blocked from view by a cluster of trees.
The only things one can see are the mill’s welcome sign (no longer named after Lenin) and a pair of blocky administration buildings.
Since they were occupied by party bigwigs, the administration buildings were decorated much more lavishly than your average proletariat’s apartment.
Adorned with Italian carpets and wooden furnishings, Nowa Huta’s struggling residents sardonically nicknamed them “the Vaticans.”
“So, in one way, Nowa Huta had Rome beat,” my guide informed me. “They had two Vaticans, but no church.”
Religion in Nowa Huta
The Soviets didn’t allow organized religion in Nowa Huta during their occupation. Poles, who are usually considered one of Europe’s most Catholic populations, had a serious problem with this.
Before he was elected pope, Karol Wojtyla fought for a church to be built in Nowa Huta — which, I remind you, was intended to be a socialist utopia. When the communists refused, Krakow’s archbishop held outdoor masses until the regime gave in.
The communists allowed for one church to be built, but it had to be constructed outside of Nowa Huta’s city limits. Also, the church couldn’t use any of the steel constructed by its own parishioners at the mill just down the road.
The Catholics were forced to use imported steel from the Netherlands, which, during the Cold War, was quite pricey to ship across the Iron Curtain. The church took 10 years to be constructed — the same amount of time it took for the communists to build the entirety of sprawling Nowa Huta.
The lack of readily available construction materials did spawn a nice touch. The exterior of the church is littered with pebbles, all of which were provided through donations. During its construction, one could bring a pebble down to the site and have it plastered into the cement on the exterior of the church.
Because of this unorthodox construction method, the parishioners say everyone who provided a mere pebble helped build the only church in Nowa Huta.
Revival
Originally built for 100,000 residents, Nowa Huta houses a whopping 200,000 people today. Despite this influx of new residents, the steel mill struggles to provide steady employment. The employer of 40,000 workers at its peak, the mill now has “only” 10,000 employees.
There is an intriguing mixture of older residents who lived through the communist regime and martial law — many of whom have lived in their original apartments since the 1980s — who share the neighborhood with hip millennials looking for a cheap place to sleep, eat and drink.
Don’t assume communism has only negative connotations around here. There are older residents who miss the days when there was a seemingly infinite amount of time to bond with family and loved ones rather than rushing around to make an extra buck. Younger folks, born long after the worst of the regime’s atrocities, embrace the quirky Soviet aesthetics with enthusiasm, transforming decrepit apartment blocks into trendy cocktail bars and restaurants with an ironic flair.
Arguably the best part of Nowa Huta is its authenticity. This is not what one usually considers a “tourist destination.” This is a neighborhood where people live, play and work, not unlike Bloomfield, Beechview or Swisshelm Park. There are few English speakers and even fewer bilingual signposts.
Nowa Huta makes little sense without a guide. There are multiple outfits around Krakow, but the most popular is Crazy Guides. You’ll know you’re about to have a unique experience when one of their laid-back hipster guides picks you up in a refurbished Trabant that sounds like an old lawnmower.
The Trabants are half the fun of these Crazy Guides. They’re well worth a quirky photo opportunity, especially after they provide you with a shot of vodka or two.
Be careful when you close the door because it’s made out of a wobbly sheet of plastic. Once you’re inside the car, you’ll realize how tiny these Trabants really are. Get comfortable with your guide — with such little space, the two of you will have to become comrades real quick. Don’t worry when your Trabant abruptly dies in the middle of a busy intersection — chances are, your guide has seen it before.
Whatever guide you choose, they’ll make your trip to Nowa Huta much more meaningful. In many ways, Nowa Huta’s story is a microcosm of Poland’s highly complex history. They’ll help you better understand Poland’s evolution from Soviet occupation to modern independence. Many of them even live in Nowa Huta — ask them what they enjoy about living here. It’s likely much nicer than you think.
My guide mentioned that she used to live in Nowa Huta but moved a few years ago. Since then, Nowa Huta’s property values have doubled, the restaurant and bar scene has perked up and she now regrets not buying property in this former communist suburb when it was still affordable for the average Krakovian.
Oh, how things have changed.
Nowa Huta is where old meets new in Poland.