Working in a fish and chip shop, learning to drink vodka and buying underwear by the kilo … our writer found much to revel in during an impromptu year in Poland
In the winter of 2016, a few months before the Brexit referendum, I decided to move to Poland. I thought it best to get out there while I still could, before my liberty to earn the minimum wage in 20-odd countries was irrevocably lost.
I can’t say it was love at first sight. It was too cold for that. It’s not easy to fall head over heels at -4C. When I boarded the bus outside Poznań airport, I shared with the driver the only phrase I had mastered on my journey from Luton. Kocham cie. I love you. The driver’s reply was to raise an eyebrow, shake his head and usher me on board. It was an auspicious beginning. Continue reading...
