But the highlight of the program was, of course, our game. I played with white. I started as always with e4. Martin responded with a Sicilian Defense. After a dozen or so moves of testing each other, we entered the middle game phase. We castled in opposite directions, which promised a nice, attacking game. And suddenly... "Party's over, we're turning off the lights, you guys will finish tomorrow!" - the manager of the hut announced loudly to us. Martin said with a slight sadness that it was a pity, because an interesting position was created. I thought to myself: "You bugger, you're not going to tell me when to end the game!". And I turned to Martin saying that I would quickly go to the room and get the headlamp and we'll keep playing. He was glad.

I managed to gain a pawn advantage, albeit at the cost of open b and c lines, after which Martin's rooks hurt my king's position on the queenside. I, on the other hand, had a very well prepared attack on the kingside. His g7-bishop was completely out of play blocked by his own pawns, which in turn were blocked by mine. I needed only one move to go to the frontal attack. And at one point, it seemed to me that this moment had come. I've waited so long for this opportunity to attack that I didn't even consider the queen's back move, which, after having controlled the situation on the queenside and a few exchanges, would allow me to slowly move towards a practically won endgame, with a pawn advantage and two connected free pawns on a and b. Unfortunately, I wanted to get to his king right now, too eagerly. I played the queen on e6 and... I stumbled upon the simplest tactical hit of his queen, which left me with a bishop down and soon all I could do was shaking my opponent's hand, congratulating him on the win.

This will be mainly about chess. Just so you are warned. But there will also be some emotions, of course related to this beautiful game game. There will also be life stories and stories of escaping behind the Iron Curtain. So let's begin.

I reached the Kozya Stena (Goat's Wall) shelter yesterday shortly before 5 pm after a light, easy and pleasant walk. So as I wanted. The facility itself is wonderfully situated on a green slope, lost somewhere in the wilderness of Stara Planina. On the spot, despite the fact that practically the whole hut was empty, I was accommodated in someone else's room. After a few minutes, my roommate showed up. It turned out to be Martin - a German from Berlin. Although, as it turned out later, he was neither exactly German nor from Berlin. Martin's father was a Czech who fled the country in 1968 after the Prague Spring. After this fact, he was sentenced to 25 years in prison in Czechoslovakia, and the family remaining in the country was quite strongly stigmatised. As Martin himself admits, his father kept a great hatred to the communists to an extent exceeding the norm. Seeing any politician on TV, even of one of moderate or central options, he immediately exploded: "F***in' commie!". The father fled illegally across the border to Austria, and from there he made his way to West Germany tp initially settle near the French border. There he met Martin's mother, a Frenchwoman, and after some time they both moved to West Berlin.

We were sitting in the dining room telling stories to each other, when at one point Martin mentioned that he played chess. After the fact, neither of us remembered how the game ended up to appear in this conversation, but it changed the evening dramatically.

Here I have to explain something for people who have known me for less than a quarter of a century. In the first half of the 90's I played chess at the junior level. Once I even played in the final round of the finals of the Polish Championships. I won something at international tournaments. I got a rating of 1800, although at the peak moment I played more or less at the level of 2000, but I did not manage to formally confirm it, because with the end of elementary school in 1996 I stopped playing. I don't know why. I was probably afraid that I wouldn't be able to reconcile high school with numerous trips. Since then, the number of games that I occasionally played could probably be counted on the fingers of two hands. Or maybe even one. I guess I didn't want to get carried away by this fascinating game again and somewhat kept avoiding it.

So I replied to Martin that yes, I played at a reasonable level, but it was a long time ago. His eyes lit up. He said, "Then why don't we play a game, they have chess here". I thought why not actually. I briefly told him what I had just told you, and then showed him the background of my phone screen, from which Anya Taylor-Joy, who played the role of Beth Harmon in the miniseries "The Queen's Gambit", enigmatically stares out. As a chess enthusiast, Martin of course had seen the series. Besides, just like me, he was excited about the recent victories of Janek Duda in the World Cup with Carlsen and Karjakin. He doesn't like Carlsen. He considers him arrogant. I try defend the Norwegian genius a bit and say: "You know, chess players are often introverts. We know them only superficially. Look, we also walk alone in these mountains and we don't always strive for conversations or contact with others. For example myself, I sometimes feel like it, other times not. Then also to someone from the side I can give the impression of a rather unpleasant fellow". I guess I convinced him a little.

We played from 9pm to 11:30pm. Then, for several more minutes, we analysed the position at this critical moment and we agreed that if I hadn't missed the tactical hit and played the queen safely backwards, the game would have inevitably ended with my win.

Martin admitted that he had never had the opportunity to play a game at such a high level while traveling, against an opponent who could do more than just move the pieces around. It was nice of him. We were so engaged in the game that we barely noticed the fact that the rest of the walkers had left the dining room. i.e. I barely made a note and Martin didn't at all.

After the game, he admitted that when we were talking earlier, he was about to say goodbye to me and go to sleep. Well, it turned out differently. I laid in bed moving pieces in my head all the time, like Beth Harmon did on the ceiling after having taken her green pills. That one thing hasn't changed a bit for me over the years. After a good, even and long game which I eventually lost, I can't just go to sleep without playing it again in the depths of my own mind.

It was a great evening at the Kozya Stena hut!

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