GruffyddA Journal Entry
I booked Kraków on a whim, £100 for return flights and three nights in a hostel. February 2023. Cold, grey, and the kind of deal you click “confirm” on before you’ve even checked the weather. I didn’t know anyone going, but I joined a solo traveller Facebook group and, before I knew it, thirty of us had booked out an entire hostel together. Thirty complete strangers in one building. It could’ve gone either way.
It turned out to be one of those trips that reminds you why travelling solo doesn’t mean being alone.
The First Night
The icebreaker was, fittingly, a hostel bar crawl. Within an hour, everyone had forgotten names and nationalities and was just somehow friends. We hopped between bars and cellars that looked like medieval caves, cheap vodka flowing, local beer everywhere, and by the end of the night everyone had that warm “we’re in this together” buzz. Kraków’s nightlife is its own experience, most bars and clubs are hidden below ground in old brick basements, giving everything this secret, candle-lit energy.
Exploring the City
The next morning, we all shook off the hangovers with a walk around Kraków’s Old Town, cobbled streets, colourful facades, and the sound of street musicians echoing through Rynek Główny, one of Europe’s largest medieval squares. The smell of freshly baked obwarzanek (Kraków’s version of a bagel) drifted through the air, and the trumpeter at St. Mary’s Basilica played his famous tune from the tower, cutting off mid-note as tradition dictates.
We visited an optical illusion museum, which turned out to be much more entertaining than expected, mirrors, trick walls, upside-down rooms, the perfect hangover cure. But what really made the trip was how effortlessly everyone gelled. It felt like travelling with old friends rather than people I’d met 24 hours earlier.
A Day in Zakopane
The highlight for me was the day trip to Zakopane, a small mountain town near the Slovakian border. It was covered in snow, proper postcard stuff. Pine trees frosted white, wooden houses with steep roofs, and a slow, peaceful energy that felt a world away from city noise.
We learned about the region’s old traditions, tried local dishes (think cheese, soups, and endless meat), and spent the afternoon in thermal hot baths surrounded by snowy peaks. Sitting in steaming water while snow fell around us was one of those “how is this real?” moments.
Moments and Mishaps
The nights blurred together in the best way. One evening we ended up in an underground karaoke bar built into a cave, belting out 2000s hits with locals who didn’t know the words but sang anyway. Another day we stumbled upon a bunny café, which was as weird and wonderful as it sounds, just coffee, pastries, and rabbits hopping around under the tables.
And of course, there was Auschwitz. Visiting it was heavy, quiet, sobering, and impossible to describe properly. It’s one of those experiences that stays with you long after you’ve left. We didn’t talk much on the bus back; it felt like the only respectful thing to do.
The Feeling of Kraków
Kraków in winter is cold, freezing, actually, but the warmth comes from the people, the bars, and the little moments in between. Street vendors serve hot mulled wine, cafés glow through frosted windows, and every building feels older than your entire country.
It’s a city that mixes history and youth perfectly, ancient walls filled with laughter, art, and the smell of cheap vodka shots.
Leaving felt strange. I’d come alone and left with a whole group of friends I hadn’t known a week earlier. Kraków made me want to explore more of Poland, maybe next time in summer, when the square is alive and the beer gardens spill out into the streets.
But even in the snow, Kraków had its own kind of magic, cold air, warm hearts, and the quiet feeling that this city had a story for everyone who stopped long enough to listen.
