Łukasz Orbitowski
Some years ago I took my fiancée on a trip around Kraków. She wasn’t my fiancée yet, just a girlfriend – we’d spend time chatting, eating bowlfuls of carbonara and downing shots in the popular Zwis bar. Kraków was different back then. I thought I’d show her places which were once important to me and provided many anecdotes. The trip was a flop – most of the places no longer exist and have disappeared from Kraków’s map, and I realised that the Kraków I felt so close to is gone.
The legendary Champion gym at Kordeckiego is no more, as is the Tower pub at the end of Grodzka Street. Their owners Wiesław Wnęk and Mr. Marian, respectively, have passed away. My primary school at Wąska Street closed recently – it was a setting for one of my books. The building at Stradomska – a mecca of Cracovian metalheads – was gutted and turned into a hotel, leaving behind just the façade, and the mediaeval burial ground discovered below the ground has been taken away on the sly, no idea where to.
Lokator
In cheerier news, the Lokator bookshop at 1 Mostowa Street is still going strong. It’s an amazing place full of books you won’t find anywhere else. They include those featuring prints by the acclaimed artist Piotr “Pio” Kaliński.
Lokator hasn’t always been a bookshop and café – it had previously been a pub at a couple of different locations [first at Meiselsa and then at Krakowska streets – ed.]. It was an important meeting point for young Cracovian artists and provided a safe haven. It hosted exhibitions, poetry evenings and even fantasy conventions. When temporary prohibition was introduced during the Pope’s visit, Lokator served as clandestine drinking hole.
For me, the place is memorable for another reason: I used to come here for a beer with my father. Our relationship was complicated and I don’t think we ever truly understood one another. But beer brought us together, and we chatted openly about everything – life, art, friends, girlfriends.
For many years we’d drink four beers each, stopping just short of getting drunk. But as dad got older, he succumbed to illness which eventually took his life. He cut down to three beers, then two, finally one small beer. He continued getting me my four bears and watched me drink them with a curious, melancholy joy. He was glad that at least I could enjoy beer.
I don’t remember our last beer together, simply because I didn’t know it would be our last. Dad got progressively more ill, and when he passed away I went to Lokator for the last time. I ordered two beers. I drank one and left the other untouched.
Artemis
The Artemis gallery at 15 Poselska Street also reminds me of my dad. He was an artist, although he never sought fame and exhibitions always embarrassed him. When he was at a vernissage surrounded by his works and the admiring audience, he felt exposed, almost naked. His elegant paintings revealed something intimate, perhaps even shameful.
It so happened that his last exhibition was at Artemis. They were really two exhibitions, one immediately following the other. The entire family was very excited, and it was only dad who was totally unconcerned. His health was failing and he’d been repressing his feelings, but I think he was glad that people come to see his art and that he could catch up old friends.
I recently wrote an introduction to a catalogue by Joanna Karpowicz who also exhibited at Artemis. She said she studied under my father and that she was really grateful for his support. Her paintings have a distinctive, comic book style, which was looked down on by the other professors. Dad took her under his wing, even though he knew less than nothing about comics.
Artemis is a charming, intimate space showcasing works by up-and-coming and young artists. You can also buy art, and if you’re feeling flush, you should absolutely do so – artists and galleries have been hit particularly hard by the pandemic.
Metal Shop
It’s the only place of its kind in Poland: a music store specialising entirely in metal. As well as LPs, cassettes and CDs, you’ll find pin badges, t-shirts, hoodies and all manner of other tat adored by nerds like me. But the spot at 17 Długa Street is important for another reason. Music shops are gradually disappearing from our cities. Twenty or so years ago there were at least ten, and Metal Shop is one of the last ones to survive. It turns out that us metalheads are the most loyal customers…
Metal Shop played a hugely important role on Kraków’s music scene before streaming became ubiquitous. It stocked music you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else, brought news from all over the world of metal and was an excellent meeting point; it was a window onto the world of wild screams, devilish sounds, living corpses and formidable yet ridiculous faces.
I feel strongly that supporting artists by buying their stuff is your duty if you can afford it, so I’m a regular visitor to Metal Shop. The place is appropriately well hidden, lurking upstairs with no handy signage. I usually pop in a couple of days a week, chat to my friend who runs the place and watch the customers – mere kids wearing old band t-shirts, heavy boots and ripped jeans; it makes me realise that metal has stood the test of time, that it’s much more than just music, and that I didn’t get it wrong all those years ago.
Pod Ziemią Pub
The Pod Ziemią Pub appeared in my life thanks to my sons. What could two teenagers possibly have to do with a pub, you might well ask. It’s run by our children’s nanny – a woman we probably owe our lives, and certainly our mental health. Here’s a thing: kids may be screaming their heads off one minute, smashing toys in a tantrum, yet turn into innocent little lambs as soon as they spot their nanny.
The pub is in a cellar at 43 Miodowa Street in Kazimierz. It’s a favourite hangout of metalheads, making it feel pleasantly hellish. It hosts gigs by small bands and regular karaoke sessions – and the sight of a long-haired, middle-aged chap squeezed into leather trousers belting out Madonna’s hits is something to behold. It also holds charity fairs and plenty of other initiatives; it’s a living, breathing space with something new every day.
I like to pop in every now and again for no particular reason, so you may well find me moping over a glass of scotch in the corner. My elder son’s greatest dream is to work here. Other kids aspire to being youtubers or crypto investors, and he can’t wait to be old enough to pull pints and collect glasses. Who knows, maybe his dream will come true and we’ll see one another over the bar?
Łukasz Orbitowski – he grew up in Kraków before spending time wandering the world and finally returning home. Author of numerous fantasy and horror novels and stories, and winner of the Zajdel and Paszport “Polityki” awards. He loves listening to metal, lifting weights and entertaining people.
The text was published in the 1/2022 issue of the “Kraków Culture” quarterly.
