Round, round, get around, we get around...

Because this holiday was, essentially, a touring holiday we passed through several towns, only stopping for a couple of hours to check out the facilities (mainly to find sweet buns for breakfast and sweet ripe plums for any time of day) and see what they had to offer. In some cases, Słupsk springs to mind, we couldn't wait to move on, but in other places, whether it was because the sun was shining or they were close to the sea or they were simply pleasant places to stroll around, we would have liked to sit at a pavement cafe, sipping coffee and people-watching for an hour. The fact that most cafes were closed didn't help us there, but we had an enjoyable mooch around a few nice towns.

Kamień Pomorski: the town hall is all that remains, apart from a clunky cathedral, of an old town here. Last year the town hit the headlines as several people died in a social housing block which burnt to the ground. Drunks and smokers are not a good mix especially when combined with lax fire security and escape routes. A very sad episode and families are still waiting to be re-housed, almost a year after the tragedy.

Trzebiatów: a very nice place on the banks of a river we never found the name of. A small lively town we remembered for several reasons: a pretty square; a charismatic bee-keeper who sold us some raspberry honey and entertained us with stories; a post office staffed by a morose and rude 20-something girl.

Kołobrzeg: where the breeze coming in off the Baltic was relatively warm, compared to a few days previously, and the clouds had gone, revealing bright blue skies and warm sunshine. These beach chairs, leżaki, are invaluable for this type of day, keeping the wind off but letting you sit comfortably in the sun.

The car park at one of the well hidden entrances to Wolin National Park. Basically a wide space among the trees. Apart from a chattering class of nine or ten-year-olds and their teachers, we were the only people wandering along the banks of the lake, through pine and beech forest, to a large stone at the edge of the water. As we got back to the car after a lovely walk, where we saw a white-tailed eagle that may have been a seagull, it started to rain and from out of the leaves came about half a dozen frogs and toads.

Although it only has a small permanent population, Międzyzdroje was a bit more lively than Łeba was. It was also much more like a seaside town should be: pier, beach, amusements and the centre was very clean and looked-after. So it should considering the amount of people that descend on it during the holiday season. Even on a dull day in October the cafes were open and people were wandering about. When I spotted this Blackpool-type board on the grass next to the 'promenade for the stars' (like Hollywood's walk of fame but smaller and with people you've never heard of), I knew we had to have a photo. Agnieszka took some convincing but, in the end, got a very nice man to take a photo.

Finally, instructions on the wall of the public toilets in Międzyzdroje: washing your feet is forbidden.

Wakacje część 3: Small town, big stink...

From Koszalin we again headed back up towards the coast and then further west. The landscape subtly changes as you go this way, with villages appearing more neat, farms more prosperous. The typical set-up is a farmhouse, flanked by two barns, a style I have seen before in eastern parts of Germany. It was to one of these that we headed for another three night stay. Agnieszka was horrified to learn it was the house of the sołtys - the village chief if you like - but he seemed ok, busy as he was with the beetroot pickers, potato harvesters and road marking workmen who were also staying there.

Compared to Rekowo, the room was lovely apart from the incredible smell of Old Spice. The source of this was a plug-in 'air freshener' but the place reeked of middle-aged man. We were grateful, however, for this a day later when they decided to empty their cess pit and a stink of a different kind pervaded the room. Until then I unplugged it and we tried not to breathe. In the bathroom, the function of the bowl under the sink became obvious once you ran the tap and 75% of the water dripped into it. Someone, surely not a plumber, had tried to fix the leak using a cement but apart from making it look messy, it hadn't stopped a drop. The kitchen, across the yard, we had to share with all the workers, but it was functional enough to cook a bit of pasta and soup, although we had to keep hold of our dishes and pan in case someone walked off with them. Breakfast was taken in the room because it was so much less hassle.

Our first trip took us up to Pobierowo, another deserted summer-only town with a fantastic white sandy beach. The sun shone, the wind had dropped and the walk along the beach was lovely, topped off by a huge flock of cranes flying overhead, possibly heading to Wolin and the lakes there, or the river area around Szczecin. We never found out where they landed but it was fantastic to see them gliding across the blue sky, calling intermittently to each other.

In the middle of town we found this place, trying to cover all angles and cater for every type of customer, whether they want drink, food or entertainment and dancing. Some people obviously can't cope with the plethora of choices, as the graffiti in the bottom left corner shows; the frustration apparent in the crude sentiments expressed...

Further along the coast, and part of the poorly-signed Wolin National Park, is a stretch of cliff described by the guide as 'unique along this coast, except for one other near Gdynia'. On a damp and rainy day there wasn't much to see, but it was nice to get out of the car and wander along through the trees to a wartime look-out post and viewpoint. Apart from the sound of the sea, far below, and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, there was pretty much no sound and it made me think how lonely sentry duty must have been here.

Back in Wilczkowo we took a turn around the pond, where silver fish jumped in the evening glow and little dogs barked with a volume out of all proportion to their size. Most of the farms and buildings seem to be used and looked after, with only one or two in need of repair, and there was easy access to the forest where once again we went on a mushroom hunt. It became more and more difficult to dry any we found as, with the weather warming slightly, the heating got switched off.

A typical barn and conker tree. Because conkers are inedible and schoolkids go to school to learn and not whack lumps out of each other's knuckles, there are always piles of conkers on the floor around these trees, plenty of which made their way back to England.

Foraging in the forest.

 A perfect specimen, picked and eaten (or occasionally dried) in under two hours. Smaczne!