I reached the Bulgarska tram stop, looked at the time indicated on my mobile phone then looked at the timetable. I had four minutes to wait and indeed within four minutes the No. 13 tram had arrived. There was nothing remarkable in this, the trams run according to a timetable and Poznań is no exception, they are punctual, at peak periods every ten minutes and between every twenty minutes. Even late at night there is still a restricted service. None of this interested me very much the other day, the No. 13 is in no way special, it is just the tram that I take when I go to the city centre. The doors swung open and I boarded the tram with the other waiting passengers and pushed my ticket into the automatic ticket punch machine; I do not travel frequently enough to warrant buying a monthly ticket. It was shortly after 11 o'clock so I was able to choose a seat rather than have to hope for one.
The pale winter sun shines down on the new white roof and stands of the football stadium, hopefully Poland and Ukraine will host the next international championship and Poznań will have its share of the matches. The tram moves briskly along Grunwaldska, through the old German military district, many of the houses here accommodate small businesses as well as the family that owns them. I ignore my newspaper, as the buildings are particularly attractive here. As we near the centre the traffic on the road either side is busier and the tram is fuller, it is just as well that I boarded the tram at Bulgarska. The students are already at their schools or university departments, those travelling to work have already been there for three hours maybe longer. The other passengers were travelling from the suburbs into the centre, either shopping or some other purpose.
We approached the centre passing between the Poznań International Fair complex, which has been promoting business since before the war and the new Sheraton Hotel, which has only been open for a couple of months. The No.13 swings left and then right on the viaduct passing over the many railway tracks, on the left is the monument to the post-war struggle for democracy and nearby the palace of Kaiser Wilhelm II, now a busy cultural centre. The tram continues down Saint Martin’s, one of the principal avenues; this is the precinct of fine historic buildings and some impressive modern ones, banks and bankers. Here financiers and insurance people bustle along the pavements, others with more time allow themselves to be distracted by the showcase windows of the many jewellers and couturier clothes shops.
At the end of the street the tram swings left, I had to alight here. I continue on foot down into the mediaeval Old Market. Was I late? I looked up at the clock tower of the Renaissance building of the old City Hall; I am on time with a few minutes to spare, which I confirmed by glancing at my mobile phone. If one must discuss business then surely this centuries old coffee and cake shop is the place to do it.
Achilles Węgorz
