Trainspotters jostled on platform 2 as sunshine lit up the polished olive-green carriages of the 11:07 from Warszawa Główna (Warsaw main station) to Poznań. As I was readying to board, a man, sporting bow tie and braces, zipped past me, making it to the steps first. Excitement was palpable. But then this was no ordinary train, but rather an event. A throwback in time.
The Polish parliament had declared 2026 as the Year of Polish Railways, and there is a double jubilee under way: the 25th anniversary of the long-distance operator PKP Intercity and the centenary of Polish state railways. To celebrate, a series of retro rail journeys called Nieśpieszny (“Unhurried”) has been launched.
Every weekend over the spring and summer (at least until the end of August, with more departures likely), a fully refurbished train from the 1980s, with livery matching the era, departs from a different region in Poland, from the mountainous south to the Baltic coast in the north. When my friend Mariusz mentioned this to me, knowing that I take an annual railway trip to his country, I jumped at the chance, booking my ticket to Poznań the day they went on sale.
On board, settling into a marmalade-coloured six-seater compartment furnished with armchair-like seats, I sensed a sociable air; after all, nobody was commuting or in a rush. Our “unhurried” journey would take about five hours compared with just over two on a faster service.
Ready for an early lunch, I stowed my bag and headed off, following the smell of fried sausages to the dining car. The WARS catering company has been feeding passengers on Polish trains since 1948, and our menus and plates for this journey were pleasingly vintage. Having ordered, I squeezed on to a stool next to fellow passenger Anita and her son – who I later worked out was the concert pianist Jan Lisiecki – visiting from Calgary, but with family roots in Gdańsk. “In the 1980s, trains were packed. You’d even have people standing in the toilet. This is nothing,” Anita said.
Tucking into fried eggs, potatoes speckled with dill and a cool cup of kefir, I thought how easy it would be to dismiss the thought of communist-era food, such as we were served, but it was freshly cooked and excellent. I asked another man at our shared table about his soup. “This is flaki, made with tripe,” he said, taking a spoonful.
The landscape we trundled through – wind turbines, Scots pine forests and cabbage fields – was unremarkable. It was the train itself, and its handsome interior, for which we had all signed up. That, and the novelty. Even the windows opened fully, as they once did, allowing us to poke our heads out.
Getting to know Poland by train has provided umpteen enjoyable experiences over the years. I’ve crossed the country by rail, from the industrial but fast-changing city of Katowice in the south to the Baltic port city of Gdynia in the far north, but there is still so much more I want to see: Lublin in the east for its underground brewery and Zakopane for its access to hiking in the Tatra Mountains. I know the trains will get me there. Now, with my phone battery thoroughly dead – in keeping with the theme, there were no obvious sockets to be found – I recalled some highlights.
Sometimes in Poland, the pleasure is all about the railway station itself. Neogothic and completed in 1857, Wrocław Główny, for example, with its stained glass, neon signs from the 1950s and wood-panelled ticket counters, is worth a visit alone.
Joy also comes from stopping somewhere purely because doing so works with certain routes and timetables. That was the case when I visited Toruń in north-central Poland. After disembarking the train, and crossing a bridge by foot over the Vistula River, a gloriously panoramic view of the medieval old town began to open up. Shortly after, I wandered into a small museum dedicated to the city’s globetrotting son, Tony Halik, a celebrated adventurer and reporter. Old photographs showed him driving his Jeep from Argentina to Alaska between 1957 and 1961.
The next day on that previous trip, after taking the train from Toruń north to Gdańsk Główny – another photogenic station with its clock tower and copper-clad turrets – I switched trains again for a 20-minute hop to Sopot, a small resort city on the Baltic Sea. A walk by sea buckthorn bushes took me to Bar Przystań and its famous fisherman’s soup featuring halibut, salmon and herbs. It was there, too, I bought my first jagodzianka, Poland’s famous blueberry-filled bun, the taste of summer and very delicious, before boarding the train to Katowice.
Back on the current retro train, and with just 45 minutes to go before our arrival at Poznań, I returned once more to the lively dining car. The queue was just as long as before but the staff were friendly as ever. The apple pie was generously fruity. As I winced at sipping the harsh grainy coffee, my neighbour said: “That’s the old, traditional stuff – still the only coffee my grandma drinks.” Another nod to the past, and thus forgivable.
I was not keen for the journey to end, but eagerly anticipating my return to Poznań. A train had delivered me to the city a couple of years ago, when I had fallen for its general buzz and energy, its Palm House – one of Europe’s biggest greenhouses – and the atmospheric milk bar Pod Arkadami, but I had run out of time for the Croissant Museum. A trademark of the city, Poznań’s St Martin’s croissants, AKA rogale świętomarcińskie, are iced and have a white poppy seed filling, and the museum has baking classes.
Our unhurried train contrasts sharply with the rapid development of modern rail services in Poland. To keep up with demand, disused carriages are being revamped and others are being sourced from abroad. Plus, in February, Poland won the 2026 Rail Champion award in Brussels for its contribution to the development of rail transport in Europe. When the future is this promising, surely there is nothing wrong with indulging in some good-natured nostalgia, bitter coffee and all.
Nieśpieszny journeys cost from £20. Koleo, a mobile app and website, is useful for navigating Poland’s railway system