Postcards from Poland 1: Ignorance is hell

Imagine arriving in England for the first time in Hull, or rather somewhere like Hull but 3x larger.

The docks you pass on the way in are so oversized that the JCBs look like tonka toys. When you finally catch a glimpse of something that is not huge and industrial - a church spire - you laugh at the incongruity.

You speak less English than the chimps in London zoo, you have no map and all the signs are long conglomerations of consonants, which could be sentences, words, abbreviations or accronyms. You don't even know how to pronounce "Hull".

Any attempt you make to ask directions illicits a similar response to if you had rabies and people sternly ignore you, some turning away in the hope that if they can't see you perhaps you won't bite.

The centre is dispersed and incoherent, making navigation a game of chance.

Take a moment to create a picture of this place in your mind. Then remove all the glass, for Szczecin is opaque. Not quite literally, of course, but this place is impenetrable. Any glass-fronted bar or cafe (there's a couple) are full of outsiders huddled in hushed conversations witha smattering of locals seeming to beleive that to be Western is to be seen. Every other establishment must be entered through a huge wooden door to determine what it is.

This is Poland.