A few places can lay claim to the - somewhat dubious honour of representing a microcosm of twentieth century European history: Berlin, in particular, comes to mind. However another city that makes a forcible case is the Polish port of Gdansk.

For most of the first half of the century it was the 'German' city of Danzig, firstly as an integral part of the Reich then, after the First World War, as a 'Free City' under the auspices of the League of Nations - a sort of 'Prussian Broom Cupboard' leading off from the famed 'Polish Corridor'. Given this status as a predominantly German enclave 'surrounded' by Polish territory it is perhaps little surprise that the Nazis flourished here in the thirties with their demands for the city's re-incorporation into the Reich. This era is encapsulated in the novel 'The Tin Drum' by Gdansk/Danzig native Günter Grass.

The opening shots of the Second World War were fired here on 1 September 1939; and by the time the conflict ended Gdansk had been occupied by the Soviets and the whole city reduced to rubble. After the war it became a 'Polish' city again as the remaining ethnic German population was expelled and replaced by refugees from eastern Poland. And, of course, it more recently became the focal point for popular resistance to Soviet-style totalitarianism with uprisings in its shipyards in both 1956 and 1970 and culminating in the establishment of the independent Solidarity trade union in the early 1980s - arguably the single most important catalyst in the collapse of communism in the whole of central and eastern Europe.

Quite understandably people have few good things to say about the Soviet-backed Communist regimes that took power in Poland after the Second World War but they do deserve some credit for supervising the careful restoration of the nation's battered historic centres and Gdansk has proved a beneficiary of this policy.

Perhaps the over-riding impression one gets when surveying the Gdansk waterfront is that this is as much a 'Baltic' city as a Polish one. As an active port since the early middle ages and a member of the trading 'Hanseatic League' it inevitably fell under the architectural influence of its commercial partners thus there is a strong Scandinavian, north German and even Dutch/Flemish feel to the place.

A good view can be had by climbing the tower of St Mary's Church which is described as 'probably the largest brick church in the world'. Mariacka Street abutting the church and the main thoroughfare, Long Street are a delight; full of bars and restaurants and crammed with shops selling jewellery made from that great resinous bounty of the Baltic seaboard - amber.

It is just a short walk from the centre of town to the gates of the old Lenin shipyard where Solidarity was born and where there is now the deeply moving Monument to the Fallen Shipyard Workers - a stunning trio of crosses soaring over 40 metres into the city's skies. Solidarity leader and former President Lech Walesa maintains an office in the city and the man and his magnificent moustache can still be seen about the place. World War Two is vividly evident in the still ruined warehouses of Granary Island and in a monument to those who were killed when the city's Post Office was besieged by attacking Nazis.