Poland, Nine Months Later

I had only spent a couple of days in Wroclaw when I wrote, back in September, that my first impression of my new –and then unpronounceable- city was undoubtedly positive. Despite the rainy autumn weather and my tiredness after a hectic move, I highlighted the colourful beauty of its main square, the Odra River with its hundred bridges and the tiny but always present gnomes. At first I marvelled and I felt adventurous at the idea of beginning a new facet of life in a Polish city nobody in my closest circle of friends seemed to have a clue about.

At the same time, though, I was cautious. As I mentioned then, I was more than aware that first impressions are often inaccurate, and I knew I had the better part of a year ahead of me to confirm my initial remarks or prove them wrong. Well, here I am, after nine months in Poland, with only a few days remaining before my confirmed date of departure, aiming to wrap up the whole experience with a mixture of words and sentimentality. Next to me, I have an untidy pile of papers, an empty box and a list of errands to be run: the summary of what is left of the most unique experience I have had in my life.

Even when I was still in Germany, I knew Poland would be different, special. The country was out of my comfort zone, its language seemed unintelligible, I was full of prejudices, and my references were scarce. It was, in short, a journey into the unknown. What I did not expect was Poland to be so special, so different, so enriching.

Before arriving, I was worried about the people I would meet: I ended up spending fantastic moments with new friends from all over the world. I was worried about not being able to communicate: I still can’t, but at least I try and it often works. I was worried about the academic level: it was not always the best, but what I learned outside the classroom, simply by living in such a different culture, has been more enriching than studying at any university. I was worried that being in Poland, supposedly an unimportant and secondary country, would lead me away from working as a journalist where all the action was taking place: nothing could have been more erroneous, as I can now reaffirm that a journalist is made of all those new worlds and new experiences he reveals to others.

But more importantly, Poland has made my world bigger. After being here for nearly a year, after managing to overcome all sorts of minor hurdles, after proving to myself that I can make my way in a place where I don’t even speak the language, I developed a need to continuously discover. Now, when I look at the map, the list of countries I want to visit is growing all the time and I have started to realise how stubborn and comfortable I was when I limited my migrating options to a handful of well-known places. In plain language, Poland has made me feel more adventurous than ever, and there are now fewer limits as to where I am willing to move next.  At the time of writing, that decision is still unresolved, but I promise you one fact: wherever I end up in the world, I will certainly write about it.