Seven years of living in Poland: Part I

This November marks seven years since I moved abroad to Poland for work. I landed the night before my twenty-sixth birthday (always making somewhat of a big entrance). At the time, I knew only a few facts I remembered from my history and political science classes, and not a single word of Polish. Originally, the plan was to stay for just a year; as I wasn’t sure if the job situation would work out long term.

I expected to veni-vidi-vici my way through this new chapter. I had lived abroad before as a student; so I thought I’d really excel this time – seizing every opportunity and making the absolute best of the experience. Super realistic expectations from the start, right? I went in thinking I was about to win at living abroad, and at adulthood in general. Except, as I learned, there is no award for that, and the competition does not even exist.

Instead, it’s been a rollercoaster; from struggling to understand the language to forming lifelong friendships, figuring out corporate work culture, and finding my place in a new city.

When I first arrived, I was convinced this was the greatest adventure I would ever embark on. My boyfriend and I got there; with no apartment and barely enough savings between us to cover the first month’s rent, a deposit, and to get us by until the first salary arrived. Back in 2017, pre-inflation times, this was actually possible.

We stayed in a random hostel in the centre of Warsaw for a week while hunting for apartments. In my twenty-something mind, this was a bulletproof plan. There was simply no scenario in which finding a permanent accommodation wouldn’t work out. That week, I made countless calls, got hung up on, and faced rejections because “we don’t rent to foreigners.” OK boomer.

By the end of the first week, we found our first place. Unlike in the Balkans, a one-bedroom apartment in Poland is actually a two-room apartment, which impacts the cost. So, we got a studio, or kawalerka; all we could afford at the time. I don’t think I fully realised how big that moment felt. Straight out of a movie. For the first time ever, with the very first apartment, I felt like a proper adult.

In my first days, I learned that small talk isn’t exactly a thing in Poland, and people despise loudness in public spaces – whether it’s high talkers or loud laughter. Yet, despite all these years, I never stopped being moderately loud, unapologetically bringing a piece of my culture into this new one. Guilty as charged.

The first Polish words I learned were an epic fail. I imagined I’d start picking up the language instantly, but instead, I spent my first weeks at Biedronka yelling “ZAPRASZAM” (I invite you) instead of “przepraszam” (excuse me) when I wanted people to move out of the way. On my first day at work, I learned about the catering concept, “pan kanapka,” and when I asked what it was, I was told it’s what Polish people get for lunch.

Naturally, the next day, I put on my game face, marched into the bakery, and confidently ordered a “pan kanapka.” Unbeknownst to me, I had just asked for “Mr. Sandwich.” After some confusion, the old lady behind the counter had the laugh of her life.

The first few months at work were tough. I struggled to keep up with the shift system, and one coworker, over the course of a few weeks, managed to convince me that moving to this country was a mistake and that the company was a mistake too, all because of a few delays in their HR processes. Listening to this day in and day out, I came home crying one night, wondering if it had all been a terrible decision.

That December 2017, I slipped in the middle of the street during the first snowstorm. I couldn’t get through an interaction at the post office without Google Translate. And I accidentally baked store-bought strawberry pierogi (because what else are you supposed to do with dough?).

I was so focused on a certain image of how my move abroad would go. The point is, things rarely turn out the way you imagine. But you make it through, and the journey is filled with memories. Seven years later, with so many experiences to reflect on, I would not change a thing about this story.

Here I am, still in Poland, with quite exponential (but not always steady) growth in my Polish vocabulary. I can even manage to get an ok haircut by just using my language skills. Happy to report, I’ve managed to slip and fall a couple more times over the years; sometimes out of pure carelessness, almost always in the winter, and sometimes from sheer excitement. But hey, I get knocked down and I get up again. It’s a thing.

I changed jobs, killed some plants, got new ones (still alive), moved apartments, gained friends for life, and lost a few along the way. There have been ups and downs, fun times, but ultimately, the journey has shaped me in ways I never expected.

And I owe it all to having people in my life – those who were ready to open doors for me, recommend me for jobs, show me around and give me directions on my first night in a new city, believe in me and teach me, and be my support system. Ultimately, I owe it also to myself, for being courageous and not giving up. For being crazy enough to dare, to follow the journey and believe things would work out and would get better.

It’s funny how life unfolds. What began as a random adventure has turned into a profound journey of discovery, growth, friendship, love, and a few mistakes along the way. Sometimes, you have to trust the process, even when what you’re trying to achieve feels just out of reach.

But this is just the beginning, and the story is far from over. Stay tuned for part two – serdecznie zapraszam! 🙂