EP 3. War-Saw: Facing History and Surviving a "Hell-Mode" Beginning

War-Saw

After several hours on a bus, I finally arrived in the Polish capital. The city’s name is rooted in a romantic legend: the meeting of Wars and Sawa. As the story goes, a fisherman named Wars met a mermaid named Sawa along the banks of the Vistula (Wisła) River. They fell deeply in love, and Sawa chose to forfeit her immortality to live on land as a human. This, they say, is how Warsaw came to be. I had honestly thought the name was “War-Saw” because it was a city that had “seen war.”

“This skyline and the general city vibe… it’s basically Taipei!” I thought to myself. Being new to Europe, I still find myself constantly comparing everything to Taiwan. Warsaw is home to an endless list of museums—historical ones like the Warsaw Rising Museum and the POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews, or scientific ones like the Earth Museum and the Copernicus Science Centre. However, I decided to visit the most iconic of them all: the National Museum in Warsaw.

Perspective Lines: A Timeless Dialogue with Bellotto

In Warsaw, reminders of the past—tanks and statues—are everywhere, from parks to museum grounds, urging passersby never to forget. Because there were so many museums and I didn’t consider myself a “deep” historian, I mostly admired the architecture and descriptions from the outside. The National Museum in Warsaw, however, was the one I truly chose to enter.

I had read that tickets were required, yet I couldn’t find a ticket booth or any staff checking entries, so I simply walked in.The museum houses world-class masterpieces, such as the Battle of Grunwald. It’s a staggering depiction of the Polish-Lithuanian union defeating the Teutonic Knights, so massive it requires an entire wall.

Yet, my favorite piece was Bernardo Bellotto’s 1773 work, View of Warsaw from the Royal Castle Terrace. The Royal Castle, the riding school, the stonemason’s workshop, and the court figures are all captured with such vivid precision. I loved it not just for its detail, but for its composition. His logic mirrored my own photographic style: leading lines extending from the corners into the frame, with every element occupying its own purposeful space. Perhaps my way of seeing the world through a lens has been shaped by this very style all along.

The 1,000-Euro Near Miss: The Blessing of a Bad Memory

After finishing all the museum wings, I sat in the seating area between the second and third floors to rest. While sitting there, I frantically scoured Facebook groups for a new flat and contacted my school coordinator about switching dorm rooms—I knew going back to that snoring roommate was simply not an option.

Shortly before, I had found a promising-looking flat on Facebook. It was a shared space, and the landlord had sent me photos that felt lived-in and authentic. The price was reasonable. I had already signed the digital contract and was about to transfer the €1,000 deposit when the unthinkable happened: I forgot my online banking password! After a few failed attempts, my account was locked. Being abroad meant I couldn’t receive SMS verification codes, rendering me helpless.Since it was nighttime in Taiwan and the banks were closed, I asked my parents to help, but they were having trouble processing the transfer as well.

Then, just minutes later, I spotted a comment under one of the landlord’s other posts: “Scam.” I had already been slightly suspicious because her bank was located in the UK, but that comment confirmed it. Thank God my parents hadn’t sent the money yet. I was already in “survival mode,” and this nearly turned my entire exchange life into a “Hell Mode” beginning.

I had narrowly escaped a scam, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. As I prepared to leave the museum, I noticed staff at the entrance—were they checking tickets? I had never heard of a museum that checked tickets upon exit. I loitered in the lobby for a while and eventually slipped out when the staff stepped away. To this day, I still have no idea where the ticket booth was or what those staff members were actually doing. Maybe I just dodged another bullet?

The Old Town and Saxon Garden: Rising from the Rubble

This is my favorite part of Warsaw—a place where, just a stone’s throw from the modern skyscrapers, you step into the historic heart of the city. During WWII, the Nazis nearly razed the Old Town to the ground in retaliation for the Warsaw Uprising. Yet, driven by an indomitable national spirit, the citizens of Warsaw rebuilt it brick by brick, using historical paintings and collective memory as their blueprints. Walking among the Royal Castle, the Market Square, and the vibrant Baroque buildings, I felt the weight of history beneath my feet on the cobblestone paths. Today, the atmosphere is no longer somber; it’s a blend of freedom, warmth, and even a touch of punk. The ancient ruins have become the perfect terrain for kids on skateboards and bikes, leaving only the remnants of the past to foster a quiet, historical melancholy.

On my way back to the hostel, I passed through the Saxon Garden, home to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It stands as a tribute to the nameless warriors who sacrificed their lives for Poland, guarded by soldiers 24/7. The garden felt deep and tranquil. Even at night, people were out for walks or jogs. For once, I put on my headphones, let the classic sounds of Oasis fill my ears, and slowly transitioned from the stillness of the park back into the bustling metropolis toward the train station. It was a perfect, fulfilling end to my day in Warsaw.

Metal Rhythms: A Sonic Farewell to Poland

The next day, I wandered through a mall before renting another “Lulu car” to visit Ujazdów Castle and the adjacent Royal Baths Park. While the park remained lush, the castle appeared neglected, wearing the weary look of a place abandoned for some time. After a decent burger by the roadside, I returned to the hostel to pack my bags. Before leaving, I pocketed a charging cable that had been sitting in the lobby for ages—it seemed completely forgotten.

Near the station, in a somewhat desolate area, I stumbled upon a bar echoing with the roar of heavy metal. As I lingered outside, a man approached me and began explaining the different subgenres being performed—Nu metal, Heavy metal,and so on. It turned out he was the drummer for the band scheduled to play two sets later. He handed me a badge from his band, “MuuT,” and invited me inside to hear their set. However, my bus was departing in just thirty minutes. I stayed outside the bar, soaking in the music until the very last ten minutes before sprinting to the station.

Music became the final note of my Polish journey. If visuals define the silhouette of a journey, then sound bestows its soul. Music allows me to shift perspectives, switching between senses to capture the raw energy of a city more profoundly.