Lech Kowalski travels the oldest highway in Poland, built by Hitler as an invasion route to the east. As the road literally crumbles into history he discovers that it is now a vital link to the west and  encounters people and locations that connect it to the present. A hooker from Bulgaria under an umbrella scared her pimp may show up and see that business is horrible in the rain.  A one legged man in a wheel chair selling mushrooms in the tornado like wake of speeding trucks describing the best way to cook what he sells. Destitute Ukrainians hiding on a former Warsaw Pact Nuclear air base serve tea to a former cop still patrolling the property. Young people escaping the glare of reality in  underground bunkers built by the Nazis.  Bombed out ruins  still guarding stretches of the concrete road. Gypsies on a pilgrimage in Auschwitz twist the plot and suddenly we are in a candle lit hut, in a gypsy village listening to a man describe how he lost his father to the Holocaust. We journey with him along the highway to visit an old friend, perhaps for the last time in his life. The people on Hitler's Highway make it evident that it is more than a remnant of history and that it does not stop at the Polish border.
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“They were as curious about me as I was about them.  And it was just a matter of time before we got together and spoke.” Lech Kowalski