As far back as I can remember, in childhood I always see myself wandering alone, and earlier with my mother. My children have similar memories, as we travelled Polish routes and neighbouring countries together.
Each of us chose a different way of viewing the world. Miłosz sees it from above, from a hang glider; Przemysław explores distant lands and seas because he sails. My daughter Dorota studies life on Earth from within – she is a biologist. My husband’s explorations consist of capturing images of what is beautiful and what has been created by people or nature.
My wish is to get to know people at every latitude, their customs and traditions, and how they live and reside. I am interested in the culture of generations that have passed and those being created by the living.
For several years I have been creating painted-and-plant compositions in the form of greeting cards. Until now I treated them rather as gifts; why should I not use my creative work where this kind of work is valued? I took a risk, but I believed that I would turn my art into currency. In Poland I purchased an “International Youth Hostel Card” – these are the cheapest international hotels. At my request, the Polish embassies in Finland and Sweden sent maps showing the locations of the hotels that interested me. Further organisational matters included gathering dictionaries and phrasebooks, as well as geographical and historical information.
I set out from Przejęsław by hitchhiking on 29 August. I was weighed down by a backpack of several kilograms (warm clothing, 2 kg of oat flakes, powdered milk, a sleeping bag, and several kilograms of my compositions).
Without any problems, I made it via the motorway to Wrocław, then Kalisz, Łowicz, Warsaw and Olsztyn. It was the first, but also the only, stage that long.
I reached the place where I had planned to spend the night at one o’clock in the morning. The time and ease of covering the distance confirmed that I had chosen my method of travelling well. Drivers’ curiosity and interest in a woman my age and her undertaking quickly turned into sympathy and enthusiasm. They often changed their routes, went out of their way, and took me to places from which it was easier to “catch” the next vehicles. People feel an enormous need to do good without being compelled, of their own free will.
In the morning I set off towards the border at Bezledy, crossing it in the company of Poles and Russians. We were travelling to Kaliningrad – formerly Königsberg.
I found myself in the centre of Königsberg. It was noon. I had to leave the city for the motorway to Klaipėda in Lithuania. As I walked, I had the opportunity to admire the architecture, the cathedral towers and those of the old churches towering over the city. The monuments were well maintained – including the historic fortress. The city was clean, with plenty of greenery, and the people were friendly.
I was so absorbed by what I saw and by the pace of the journey that I did not feel hungry and forgot that I had to sleep somewhere.
I travelled towards the Neman. In my memory I searched for literary descriptions and compared them with what surrounded me.
I am travelling in a passenger car with a Russian couple and trying to converse in their language.
After a bright day, dusk fell. I had a sleeping bag in my backpack; for a moment I imagined spending the night on a Baltic beach. Forest, water and silence. I had not managed to reveal my plans when Irina and Giennadij invited me to their home. We sat for a long time after dinner. There was so much to say about family and the changes that had taken place, and were taking place, among them and among us. They showed photographs from trips to southern Russia, Crimea and Georgia. Things are difficult for them now, but they have Slavic hospitality in abundance.
In the morning, in the sunshine, I look at the sea. For the first and last time on this journey I swim, although until its end the Baltic will remain within sight. Irina and I collect amber. The beach is beautiful, the sea clean. Nature rules according to its own laws; there is no sign of human intervention.
I am in a hurry. Today I plan to cross Lithuania. We say a warm goodbye. As a keepsake I receive amber, and I give them my compositions.
The Russian-Lithuanian motorway, in good condition, runs through forests. The sea is visible beyond the trees, and its sound accompanies my walk. I walk for a long time because there are very few cars. I breathe clean sea air. I meet an old man digging a little hole for a dog that has been killed. The man was crying for his friend, and I was overcome with emotion. An old man – a child.
I am already by the Neman. I ask the driver to stop. I take off my trainers and immerse my feet in the river water. We travel slowly across a long bridge. Anglers are above the water, fishermen with nets are on it, and the Neman flows lazily and calmly. The Russian-Lithuanian border. A Pole from Lithuania takes me to Klaipėda. Why did I come across a Pole? Perhaps it was because of the red-and-white pennant with which I emphasise my national affiliation throughout the journey? The conversation flows freely and sincerely; it emerges that Poles in Lithuania feel wronged. I am sad and, as we part, I wish all Poles a better fate.