Puns? I’ve got Lódz of them
The final leg of our last European mega-trip began with a dreary drive across central Poland, leaving behind the bustling streets and blue skies of Warsaw for the muted grey of a winter’s day in Łódź. The name, like so many Polish cities, proved a challenge for our Welsh tongues—pronounced something like “Wuj”—and after some practice and then quickly giving up we focused on the city itself. Once an industrial hub, Łódź has transformed dramatically in recent decades, shedding its gritty past in favour of a flourishing cultural and arts scene. We parked by a cold, windswept lake on the city’s edge, then took a taxi towards the centre, ready to explore its revitalized core.
With guidebook in hand, we started following the walking tour route suggested by Lonely Planet but keeping an eye out for a particular landmark that I had a passing connection to. This wasn’t my first time in Łódź—I had flown in back in 2012 to kick off a summer of interrailing and have fond memories of the visit. I have a photo from the trip sitting beside a bronze monument dedicated to local legend Arthur Rubinstein and I felt an urge to recreate the shot some twelve years later. Despite a clear difference in the warmth of attire and the youthfulness of skin, I think I managed a reasonable replica.
The tour took us down Piotrkowska Street, the city’s main thoroughfare, where the murals seem to spill out onto every wall. And there are a lot of murals—some good, some baffling, but all worth a glance. We also ventured down a narrow side street called Pasaz Rozy, where the walls are covered, from drain to roof, with mirrors, making it the largest glass mosaic in Poland. It’s a quirky little spot, and though the full effect is definitely best seen in summer, even in the winter light, the reflections had a dull charm. From there, the tour led us past some of the city’s oldest buildings, including a grand church and the Gutenberg Tenement House, a bizarrely ornate structure with an eclectic mix of statues, including steel dragons and a tribute to the printing pioneer himself, nestled in the centre of the building’s oriel.
We wrapped up the day in a coffee shop at the far end of Piotrkowska Street and began ruminating on the past ten weeks on the road. As with all long trips, the beginning already felt like a distant memory—those first few days spent roaming rural Denmark. From leisurely beers on the sun-drenched waterfronts of Copenhagen and Malmö to trekking north along the never-ending road that stretches through Norway, all the way to Nordkapp, Europe’s northernmost point. Along the way, we dodged everything from roadside reindeer to frolicking foxes and somewhere between the animals and the incredible scenery, we managed to miss the Northern Lights altogether. We embraced Scandinavian sauna life with enthusiasm—having more hot dips in those few weeks than I’ll probably have for the rest of my life—before diving into an entirely different pace of travel in the Baltics.
From Narva, a small Estonian town nestled right on the border with Russia, we set off on a winding journey, crisscrossing the region in an attempt to uncover some of its complex, often unsettling history. Along the way, we explored numerous museums dedicated to the Baltics’ tumultuous fight for independence in the twentieth century—stories of resilience and suffering that were as fascinating as they were sobering. Then, with a sudden shift in visa regulations, an unexpected opportunity to briefly visit Belarus presented itself, which I grabbed with one hand (the other was a little less eager) before wrapping up in ever-evolving Poland. A trip of ten thousand kilometres, nine nations, eight capitals, two ferries, and a karaoke night in the middle of the Baltic Sea.
As I mentioned at the start, this will be our final road trip of this kind. After four multi-nation, multi-month drives in as many years, only one European country remains: Malta (and I don’t fancy driving to that one). But van life won’t be cast aside permanently, oh no. Instead, we’ll be spending a couple of months each year in two of our favourite spots—winter in Portugal and spring in Ireland. In between, I plan to venture to more far-flung corners of the globe as I continue moving towards the illustrious 196. But for now, it’s time to say goodbye to teaching on the road and, sadly, to Poland too, as we trade the open road for the open ocean. Next stop: Tobago!
J
