Krakòw Part 3: Curb Crashes, Candy Confusion and Underground Salt Secrets
- Tricia Kampert
- Jun 21
- 14 min read
🌥 A Heavy Morning and a City Waiting in Silence
We woke up slow. Not tired, emotionally drained.There’s a weight that comes with witnessing something unthinkable and it doesn’t lift just because the sun comes up.The city didn’t rush us. It just stood there, still and open, waiting to be faced.
Downstairs, the familiar warmth of the dining room once again welcomed us.Same soft lighting. Same clinking of silverware. Same sleepy smiles from behind the coffee bar. It was comforting, this tiny ritual. There was something warm about the routine that held us tightly after feeling so extremely heavy the day before.
We took our time, got dressed and ready and spoke softly. When we finally peeled ourselves out of the room, wrapped in scarves and thermals, the cold met us like an old friend ready to accompany us through the city.
❄️ Daylight in the Market: The Scam, the Soft Heart, and the Italian Escape Plan
We walked toward the square. No agenda. No rush. Just a need to be among something alive. The Christmas markets by day were different. Less cinematic. Less moody. But still full of magic in that quiet, midday kind of way. The stalls were not yet open, but seeing them in the daylight gave us insight to the magic that happens at night time. It wasn’t as dazzling as it was by night… but somehow, it held a certain, almost irreplaceable charm we hadn't seen before.
As we made our way through the square enjoying the crisp afternoon air, taking in the quiet rhythm of the day, a pair of strangers approached us with a flyer. No greeting. No introduction. Just an urgent request to donate. They said the money was for a little girl: rare condition, bones that broke with the slightest touch. They didn’t elaborate much, just pointed to the image on the page and waited.
Something about this whole interaction felt VERY off.
Their story was rushed, their eyes distracted. It didn’t take much to see through it. The pitch was rehearsed. The printout looked like it had been folded and reused a dozen times. I could feel the scam before the sentence even finished… But my mom didn’t.
She listened, nodded, then reached into her purse. I tried to stop her with a glance, but she’d already decided. She gave what she had in her wallet without hesitation. She didn’t ask questions. She just gave because that’s who she is.
I said nothing. Sometimes, whether it’s a scam or not, isn’t the point. Sometimes, believing in people, even for a moment, isn’t weakness. It’s just… hope… and maybe the world needs a little more of that. Even if it costs a few more złoty than you expected to spend.
After we walked away, I gently broke the news. “It was a scam,” I told her. She sighed, already knowing but not wanting to believe it. So we made a pact for the rest of the trip: if approached again, we didn’t speak English. I’d default to Italian. Most people here wouldn’t understand it, and it would give us just enough space to escape politely.
Let’s just say… ten minutes later, en route to our lunch reservation, the strategy was tested and it worked. Flawlessly. She played along, I kept a straight face, and we kept walking: no money lost, no hearts broken.
🥬 The Stuffed Cabbage That Changed Our Lives
We found our lunch spot hidden along the edge of Rynek Główny: one of those restaurants that doesn't shout for attention but somehow pulls you in anyway. No flashy signage. No crowd out front. Just a quiet door, a warm interior, and that unshakable feeling that this was where we were supposed to be.
The welcome? Immediate. Familiar. Like they’d been expecting us. I wish I could tell you the name. Truly.But somewhere between the midday glow, the clinking of dishes, and the quiet hum of a city that doesn’t need to impress you to enchant you, the name slipped from memory; probably replaced by the sheer brilliance of what we were about to eat.
The stuffed cabbage.
No, not just stuffed cabbage. The stuffed cabbage. Rich. Silky. Wrapped so perfectly it felt like it had been hand-folded by someone’s Polish grandmother in a secret kitchen beneath the market square. The sauce? Deep, slow, and slightly sinful, served on the side and just the right amount. We took one bite and exchanged that look, the one that says, Wait… did we just find culinary salvation in a cabbage roll?
Spoiler alert. We did. And we’re not ashamed.
We’ve tried stuffed cabbage before, plenty of times. In fact, I hail my mom’s stuffed cabbage as the best I’ve ever had! But this one? This one felt like a well-kept Kraków secret. And every single złoty we spent on it? Consider it a donation to the stuffed cabbage Gods.
After lunch, our mission was clear: track down a mall with a Pandora shop. Because of course, no Kraków adventure is complete without a souvenir charm to prove you actually were there, proof that your weekend escapades weren’t just a well-spun story.
🥶 A Mall, a Tiny Ice Rink, and a Surprise Winter Wonderland in the Middle of Krakow
We found the mall, Mavericks Krakow, about a mile away… not far at all. It was walking distance, just like everything else in this city that somehow keeps surprising you with its compact magic. We entered, made a b-line straight to pandora, and purchased our next city charm with a smile on our faces.
With our charms in hand, we stepped outside and stumbled upon something delightfully unexpected: a vast open space dotted with intriguing sculptures, like silent guardians of the square. Nestled among them was a tiny ice rink surrounded by a handful of Christmas stalls. It was as if the sprawling Christmas market had shrunk down for a more intimate, exclusive party, just the right size for a secret winter rendezvous.
The rink was so small it could have fit in someone’s backyard, yet somehow it held an undeniable, peculiar warmth. A towering Christmas tree stood guard nearby like the master chief, lighting up the gray stillness of the day in a way that made the cold feel almost... cozy.
In that quiet, offbeat corner of Kraków, the world felt both vast and intimately personal: curated just for us. It was as if the city itself knew what we had experienced the day before and offered this gentle, warm embrace as a quiet reassurance.
After soaking in that secret winter rendezvous, we made our way to a bus stop, ready to face our next adventure. The day was far from over. Soon, we’d be heading to the Wieliczka salt mines, a hidden world carved deep beneath the earth, where a whole new story was waiting to be uncovered in shadow salt, and stone. Finally, something light and fun and not so heavy on the soul
🧂 A Stairway to Salt: Our Deep Dive into the Wieliczka Salt Mines
We boarded the bus a few minutes later and made it to the salt mines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface as we prepared to descend into a world unlike any other. Though I had been here before, the thrill of sharing this unique experience with my mom made it feel brand new all over again. Dropped off about a block away, we trudged toward the entrance as snow began to fall once more, this time wrapping around us gently, a soft embrace rather than the icy chill we’d felt at Auschwitz.
Inside, we faced a seemingly endless staircase, steep and winding, plunging us deeper and deeper. Over 130 meters below ground, the air grew cool and peculiar as we finally stepped into the vast network of caves carved through centuries of salt mining.
The Wieliczka Salt Mines are like stepping into an underground kingdom - secret tunnels snaking for miles, carved out over 700 years by hands tough enough to make diamonds jealous. It’s not just a mine; it’s a salty saga of sweat, grit, and some seriously impressive chiseling skills.
Back in the day, salt was basically the medieval version of gold, worth its weight and then some. The miners? Brave souls armed with nothing but pickaxes and sheer stubbornness, hacking away in near darkness, navigating tunnels so tight you’d think you’re in a salty hamster maze. It wasn’t exactly a day at the spa.
But these folks had a thing for style too. They carved chapels right out of salt rock, turning underground drudgery into holy art. The Chapel of St. Kings is the crown jewel... imagine chandeliers, altars, even statues, all sparkling salt crystals, giving the place a glow that’s part cathedral, part glitter party.
And then there’s the Cathedral Well, an enormous cavern so vast it could fit a small concert (or your entire extended family, if you’re feeling ambitious). At the mouth stands a solemn statue of Pope John Paul II, Poland’s favorite son, watching over the mines like a salty guardian angel. He’s a reminder that this place isn’t just about digging; it’s about faith, history, and a whole lot of pride carved into every inch.
The miners worked in cramped spaces, with ventilation shafts engineered so well you’d think they invented underground air conditioning. Every tunnel, every sculpture, every sparkling wall tells a story of human endurance and a love affair with salt that runs deeper than the mines themselves.
When we finally emerged from the twists and turns of the tunnels, everything was almost surreal. Just outside the underground labyrinth was a surprisingly elegant space; a hall designed for wedding receptions and other celebrations, tucked away where you least expect such grandeur. Nearby, a gift shop tempted visitors with all things salt-themed, from crystals to quirky souvenirs that whispered of the mine’s centuries-old secrets.
But the real adventure was still ahead: the ascent. We squeezed into the old, creaky elevator so narrow it felt like the walls were inching closer with every creak and rattle. If you’re claustrophobic, fair warning: this ride is definitely a trigger. Though honestly, if tight, dark spaces set off alarms for you, descending over 100 meters below the earth’s surface in the first place might not be the smartest move.
The elevator jolted and groaned its way upward, each second bringing us closer to the light, to the world we knew but that now seemed a little less ordinary after the mysteries we’d unraveled below.
We made our way back to the bus, the city swallowed by darkness and snow drifting down silently. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but somehow that just made everything feel more real. There was this unspoken feeling between us like we’d touched something bigger than the cold or the night. No rush to leave, no need to say much. Just ready to see what else Krakow had waiting for us.
When we stepped off the bus back at in the heart of Krakow, we had a short walk back to the city center. That’s when things got a little... trippy.
🤕 A Slippery Twist of Fate: Dignity Lost, Laughter Found
My mom and I were standing at the crosswalk with a crowd of strangers, all waiting for the perfect gap to dart across to the park outside Wawel Castle. Finally, the clearing appeared, and suddenly, like someone yelled “GO!”, the entire group surged forward like a wave.
And then absolute and utter Insanity.
Out of nowhere, people on my left and right started doing this weird stumble-fall-kneel combo I hadn’t seen coming. Turns out, we were all so focused on making it across, nobody noticed the sneaky curb hiding in plain sight.
I heard this soft “plump” to my right, and when I glanced over... there was my mom, sprawled out on the pavement like a starfish that forgot how to swim; face down, arms flung out like she was trying to catch an invisible taxi.
I swear, it took every ounce of willpower not to burst out laughing right then and there. Sorry, Mom. You’re a legend.
Once she was up and everything was intact except her dignity, my mom latched onto my arm like I was her emotional support animal. We hobbled the rest of the way back to the Christmas markets, where we made an executive decision: it was time for pierogies and kielbasa. After that kind of street drama, comfort food was non-negotiable.
🍀 Pierogies, Truffles & Irishmen: A Dinner We Didn’t See Coming
While I waited in line for our dinner, my mom scouted out a table. I hadn’t seen it yet, but when I turned the corner after paying, there she was… surrounded by three strange men. For a split second, I panicked… until I realized all of them were mid-laugh, and my mom was practically holding court.
Naturally, I went over to join whatever ridiculousness was happening. Turns out, they were three Irishmen on holiday, clearly several pints into “letting loose” mode. They were cracking jokes faster than I could keep up. One of them even cracked a wildly inappropriate joke about me being a teacher in the U.S. and needing to wear a bulletproof vest… completely uncalled for, totally off-limits… and yes, I still laughed like a guilty raccoon caught stealing snacks. To be fair, I don’t ever get offended; dark humor is practically my second language..
After about a half of an hour flirting back and forth, they invited us to the local disco for late-night drinking games which we very politely declined, because nothing says “we’ve hit our limit” like falling face-first in the middle of a crosswalk. We parted ways, them off to their late night shenanigans, us off to satisfy our sweet tooth.
🌌 Nightfall Over Kraków and the Glow of an Unexpected, Laughable Day in Krakow
As If by some unspoken Italian ritual, our night ended the way every meal ends in our family: with dessert. We found a stand selling kürtőskalács: those glorious spiral chimney cakes rolled in cinnamon, sugar, nuts, sprinkles, or whatever your sugar-loving heart desires, and stuffed with melty, gooey Nutella. Absolute heaven. Every bite was warm, sweet, and exactly what we needed to seal the deal on one of the most unexpectedly hilarious nights of the trip.
With dessert devoured and new international friendships politely left at the disco door, we decided to call it a night. Bellies full, legs sore, and dignity only slightly bruised, we made our way back to the hotel to sleep off the carbs and the curb.
Tomorrow would be our last day in the magical realm of Krakow and we were determined to squeeze out every last drop of adventure it had left.
⛪ Where the Trumpet Never Finishes: Inside Saint Mary’s Basilica
The next day was a bit of a blur. We somehow managed to wake up just in time for lunch (because, priorities), so we headed straight to N7 Restaurant for a light meal. We figured we’d need the energy to fuel our wandering. After our mini feast, we hit the streets on foot, ready to explore the corners of the city we hadn’t yet stumbled upon. The whole day felt like a spontaneous scavenger hunt, where the only rule was: get lost, and maybe find something amazing.
At some point during our wandering, we ended up in front of Saint Mary’s Basilica. We hadn’t planned it, but there it was, massive, striking, and impossible to ignore. Its mismatched towers loomed over the square like quiet sentinels, and something about it made us stop talking and just walk in.
Inside, the atmosphere felt lighter, more holy, more sacred. The noise from the square disappeared the second the doors shut behind us. It was dim, silent, and filled with a strange sense of stillness. The walls were covered in deep colors of blues and golds and old paintings that seemed to watch you back. Everything felt heavy, but not in a bad way, just important.
We sat in a pew near the front. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t need to. We just prayed. A few minutes in, I looked over and saw my mom wiping a tear from her cheek. She didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask. Some places just do that to you.
We stayed there for a while, letting it settle. Then we walked out quietly, not really saying much, both of us knowing we’d just experienced something we wouldn’t forget.
🍫 Hot Chocolate, Unpronounceable Restaurants & One Magical Night
Once we walked away from the basilica, the mood lifted because naturally, we ended up in a candy shop. That’s just where we always land when we’re on holiday. It was tucked into a little stone building and packed wall-to-wall with every sweet you could imagine. Too many choices? Definitely. So we did the only logical thing: we took a bit of everything.
Next stop was for hot chocolate on the glowing recommendation of my childhood friend (shoutout Allen Perry) who swore by a place called Karmello’s. Let me tell you, our tastebuds agreed. It was rich, velvety, and honestly? Dessert-level good. We also walked out with a box of truffles… even though, yes, we had just bought half a candy shop down the street. No regrets.
With hot chocolate in hand and night already settled around us, even though it was barely 5 p.m., we made our way back into the Christmas markets to buy some last minute souvenirs and to experience some Christmas magic before dinner: a horsedrawn buggy ride around not only the town, but around the Wawel castle.
🐎 Horse-Drawn Drama and Castle Views: Riding Through Krakow in Style
The carriages were lined up near the square, white and glowing under the soft streetlights, with blankets draped across the seats and horses that looked like they knew they were the stars of the show standing high and majestic against the lights of the markets.
We climbed in, tucked ourselves under a cozy blanket, and off we went, clip-clop, clip-clop, through the cobbled streets of Krakow. The sound alone was enough to make the whole thing feel magical.
We rolled past buildings that looked like they hadn’t changed in centuries, lit softly from below, their stone facades catching the amber glow. People walked by bundled in scarves, holding hands or sipping mulled wine, and everywhere you looked, the city just… shimmered. There’s no other word for it.
As we made our way toward the river, Wawel Castle came into view; dark and majestic on its hill, its towers piercing the night sky. Lit just enough to highlight its silhouette, it looked like something out of a history book: grand, quiet, and watching over the city like it always had. The driver gave us a few fun facts, though I was too busy staring at the castle to remember a single one.
We turned through quiet streets and tucked-away corners I hadn’t seen on foot, some completely empty, others bustling with late-night wanderers like us. For about thirty minutes, time slowed down. The cold didn’t bother us. The city looked different from this angle; softer, slower, and even more enchanting.
It was the kind of ride that makes you feel like you're a princess in a fairytale, like you’re seeing a version of the city most people miss, and when it was over, we stepped down from the buggy with frozen toes, warm hearts, and one more memory we hadn’t planned on but would never forget.
🍽️ Old Town Krakow: Where You Eat Like Royalty (Even if You Can’t Pronounce the Name of the Place)
We then made our Old Town Krakow for dinner. I had one place in mind, a spot I’d been to before and loved so much I needed my mom to experience it too. The name? Totally unpronounceable, but unforgettable: Piwnica Pod Kominkiem. In my opinion, hands down, the best restaurant in the city and the coziest atmosphere to match. Highly recommended! Of course, afterwards, even with full stomachs, we stopped by that one stall that sold those unforgettable spiral cakes just for our last and unforgettable taste of Krakow.
❄️ Blizzard Mode Activated: Our Snowy Escape from Poland 🇵🇱
The next morning hit fast, and before we knew it, it was time to leave Krakow behind. Outside, a full-on blizzard was in full swing, the kind where snow blankets everything so thick you can barely see two feet ahead. We piled into the car for the ride to the airport, nerves quietly humming as the roads turned slick and white.
About halfway there, we passed a minor accident; cars tangled up like a twisted puzzle in the snow. Most drivers might have panicked, but not ours. Calm as you please, he navigated those treacherous, snow-covered streets like a seasoned pro, sliding and gliding through drifts as if the storm was his dance floor.
Watching him handle the chaos with such ease, I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill. Maybe the city’s magic wasn’t quite done with us yet.
Soon enough, we pulled up to the airport, the blizzard howling behind us as if daring us to come back someday.
And just like that, our wild, unexpected, utterly unforgettable Krakow adventure came to an end. But honestly? I was already dreaming about the next time.
Comments