European Travels: Krakow (for Catholics)

My parents were here this weekend, and I spent a long time with them looking through a photo album of ancestral sites I visited in Europe this summer, including my father's mother's shtetl, my father's father's shtetl, and the town in Germany that is a point of origin for his family, a town that we are, not coincidentally, named after. It was a really moving journey, and powerful in unexpected ways (lots of people have been reminded of Everything is Illuminated, even if I wasn't at the time), so I've decided to post a serial travelogue in those times when things get kind of boring here in the Spookytown outskirts.

We begin with Krakow. I had a week-long faculty seminar that started right after the spring quarter ended (all expenses paid, thanks CICS!!!!). I had bought a Rough Guide to Poland before setting out, and had also read some (many! I mean many!) of the readings for the seminar, but even so I wasn't quite prepared for the ubiquity, and oddness, of Catholic imagery in Krakow. Now, we all know that Poland is a pretty Catholic country, but did you know about the (seemingly natural) connection between monks and restaurants? Neither did I, yet the very night of my arrival we had our welcome dinner in this restaurant, which could only be reached after walking this gauntlet of monks.

I suppose they are inviting potential patrons to dine in the restaurant. But are they inviting? Or creepy? (The fact that I returned the next day to photograph them hints as to where I stand on the question.)
Rather than have a "closed" sign, as one might find in a non-monk-ridden establishment, here we have a scary monk statue-like object blocking the door to let you know that the restaurant isn't quite ready for your business.
In the end, the food was pretty good, if you could avoid the pork (difficult, and I have a feeling that those boiled potatoes were as tasty as they were due to the judicious use of lard, although on the other hand the pickles brought me right back to Brooklyn of the mid-70s). Other pictorial monks around town also suggested venues for fine dining, with some looking like they enjoy food more than others.
But note that everyone looks quite serious about their wine.

On a related note, if you're building a glorious chapel, why not embellish the doors with heads of religious figures?
Although you always have the option of full bodies on plinths, which are a bit more dramatic.
Even the robotic mimes in Krakow are monks, here in the Rynek Glowny (main square).
I didn't stick around to see what he did upon receiving money; I suspect self-flagellation to be more likely than popping and locking. Meanwhile, Krakow's favorite son also showed up in some unexpected places - his demise two months earlier may have contributed to a proliferation of portraits, although I unfortunately don't have any longitudinal data. Here he appears to be guarding both souls and shoes,
while here his attention is fixed on otherwise classy housewares and china as the station wagon on the street is fortuitously transformed, for a moment, into a silver Popemobile.
In the next episode of my Polish travelogue, the more Jewish side of Krakow.