Meals on Wheels
That's why, when I see the lady pushing her rickety WARS trolley through the PKP railway carriages, I feel like a rabbit caught in headlights.
I've been on the 7:05 a.m. Kraków train for the past two hours, without so much as a crumb to eat all morning, when this goddess in a blue uniform hands me a little plastic box. It contains half a ham-and-cabbage sandwich, a chocolate bar with the texture of corrugated cardboard and a bottle of warm, gassy water.
I am so grateful for this near-noxious meal, that I struggle not to prostrate myself before her trolley.
When it comes to train travel, I think Hollywood's to blame for all those falsely romantic tales of dark tunnels, smoking guns, delectable three-course meals and late night cigars around a mini-grand piano.
The Polish version, with English subtitles, would have Jacek and Wojtek, traveling on the 6 a.m. train to Poznań for a meeting at the local pump factory, staving off their hunger pangs in the WARS dining car with an early morning kiełbasa and a warm Żywiec in a polystyrene cup.
The state-owned WARS company, which is responsible for all food and beverages, and sleeping arrangements on Poland's trains, boasts 16 restaurant cars and an impressive 163 bar cars. It also runs the restaurants at railway stations and employs 1,400 staff.
But one sometimes has to wonder if there is a single chef among them.
WARS - or "Star WARS" as it is known in some unforgiving circles - is not renowned for its finesse in the kitchen. And you only have to canvas a small number of diners to gauge this.
Elvis Presley, a frequent WARS diner, whose name has been changed to protect his identity reckons, "The food's not that bad if you like greasy stuff. In the mornings you can't beat the scrambled eggs with ham or a greasy kotlet scha-bowy always goes well with a couple of beers in the WARS car."
But the level of food hygiene does make Presley nervous.
"I try not to look in the kitchen to see all the food laying all over the place," he said. "They also seem to have one pan to cook everything, and things only get worse if I think that the guy preparing my food is using the same toilet that the rest of the passengers have to use."
Bob Dylan, not his real name, is another re-gular WARS diner, and a vegetarian.
"And for vegetarians, there's very little on offer - a cheese kanapka or scrambled eggs," he said. "Although some people swear that WARS bigos is the best in Poland."
But it's something other than WARS food that elicits the fondest memories for Dylan. His eyes mist over as he recalls a game of strip poker he once played in the WARS car on a late night, beer-fuelled Kraków train.
"One of the girls ended up in bra and panties while one of the lads ended up totally naked as we pulled in to Warsaw Centralna," he said with a smile.
But back to the food. WARS coffee is the big sticking point for Frank Sinatra, whose name has also been changed to protect his true identity.
"It tastes disgusting," he whinged.
Sinatra is, however, a little more forgiving about the cuisine on the Warsaw-Berlin train.
"They have a great chicken schnitzel and excellent ziemniaki, and I love the scrambled eggs," he said. "They're perfect, and they are served with nice little bits of stale bread. It's a good morning filler."
And for an extra tip, the waiters will even bring the food to your compartment, Sinatra said.
But when it comes to decor, this trio sings in unison: WARS needs help. And quickly. From its grubby lace curtains and plastic flowers to its inexplicable standing room only policy, WARS is stuck in a time warp.
And what about that hot pink WARS car with modular furniture that looks like it was extruded from the leftovers at a Barbie factory?
"It looks like a brothel on wheels and it's the most bizarre train cafe I have ever been in," said Dylan who dubs the carriage "The Pink Lagoon."
Henryk Klimkiewicz, his real name and in a former incarnation a WARS president refers to the chuck wagons as "sort of like McDonald's on wheels."
Now the boss at TOR, a transport consul-ting company, Klimkiewicz blames WARS's poor equipment and dated interiors for its rather tawdry reputation among travellers. He said that WARS has a host of other labour and business structure issues symptomatic of Poland's state-owned companies. It had also long been a Valhalla recruiting ground for retired policemen, not usually rated for their culinary skills.
Elvis Presley puts it more simply: "I'd like to see more chairs in the WARS car so I can sit down and relax while I'm eating or drin-king. But other than that, I can't complain when I'm on a train and paying peanuts for the ticket."
In the food business, a trapped audience is always an easy sell.
That's why, when I see the lady pushing her rickety WARS trolley through the PKP railway carriages, I feel like a rabbit caught in headlights.
I've been on the 7:05 a.m. Kraków train for the past two hours, without so much as a crumb to eat all morning, when this goddess in a blue uniform hands me a little plastic box. It contains half a ham-and-cabbage sandwich, a chocolate bar with the texture of corrugated cardboard and a bottle of warm, gassy water.
I am so grateful for this near-noxious meal, that I struggle not to prostrate myself before her trolley.
When it comes to train travel, I think Hollywood's to blame for all those falsely romantic tales of dark tunnels, smoking guns, delectable three-course meals and late night cigars around a mini-grand piano.
The Polish version, with English subtitles, would have Jacek and Wojtek, traveling on the 6 a.m. train to Poznań for a meeting at the local pump factory, staving off their hunger pangs in the WARS dining car with an early morning kiełbasa and a warm Żywiec in a polystyrene cup.
The state-owned WARS company, which is responsible for all food and beverages, and sleeping arrangements on Poland's trains, boasts 16 restaurant cars and an impressive 163 bar cars. It also runs the restaurants at railway stations and employs 1,400 staff.
But one sometimes has to wonder if there is a single chef among them.
WARS - or "Star WARS" as it is known in some unforgiving circles - is not renowned for its finesse in the kitchen. And you only have to canvas a small number of diners to gauge this.
Elvis Presley, a frequent WARS diner, whose name has been changed to protect his identity reckons, "The food's not that bad if you like greasy stuff. In the mornings you can't beat the scrambled eggs with ham or a greasy kotlet scha-bowy always goes well with a couple of beers in the WARS car."
But the level of food hygiene does make Presley nervous.
"I try not to look in the kitchen to see all the food laying all over the place," he said. "They also seem to have one pan to cook everything, and things only get worse if I think that the guy preparing my food is using the same toilet that the rest of the passengers have to use."
Bob Dylan, not his real name, is another re-gular WARS diner, and a vegetarian.
"And for vegetarians, there's very little on offer - a cheese kanapka or scrambled eggs," he said. "Although some people swear that WARS bigos is the best in Poland."
But it's something other than WARS food that elicits the fondest memories for Dylan. His eyes mist over as he recalls a game of strip poker he once played in the WARS car on a late night, beer-fuelled Kraków train.
"One of the girls ended up in bra and panties while one of the lads ended up totally naked as we pulled in to Warsaw Centralna," he said with a smile.
But back to the food. WARS coffee is the big sticking point for Frank Sinatra, whose name has also been changed to protect his true identity.
"It tastes disgusting," he whinged.
Sinatra is, however, a little more forgiving about the cuisine on the Warsaw-Berlin train.
"They have a great chicken schnitzel and excellent ziemniaki, and I love the scrambled eggs," he said. "They're perfect, and they are served with nice little bits of stale bread. It's a good morning filler."
And for an extra tip, the waiters will even bring the food to your compartment, Sinatra said.
But when it comes to decor, this trio sings in unison: WARS needs help. And quickly. From its grubby lace curtains and plastic flowers to its inexplicable standing room only policy, WARS is stuck in a time warp.
And what about that hot pink WARS car with modular furniture that looks like it was extruded from the leftovers at a Barbie factory?
"It looks like a brothel on wheels and it's the most bizarre train cafe I have ever been in," said Dylan who dubs the carriage "The Pink Lagoon."
Henryk Klimkiewicz, his real name and in a former incarnation a WARS president refers to the chuck wagons as "sort of like McDonald's on wheels."
Now the boss at TOR, a transport consul-ting company, Klimkiewicz blames WARS's poor equipment and dated interiors for its rather tawdry reputation among travellers. He said that WARS has a host of other labour and business structure issues symptomatic of Poland's state-owned companies. It had also long been a Valhalla recruiting ground for retired policemen, not usually rated for their culinary skills.
Elvis Presley puts it more simply: "I'd like to see more chairs in the WARS car so I can sit down and relax while I'm eating or drin-king. But other than that, I can't complain when I'm on a train and paying peanuts for the ticket."
Meals on Wheels are endured by Celia Barnes and friends who find that Bar Wars needs refreshment - soon
