Over the summer Polish cities become very quiet. Schools and universities close until October and shops and businesses shut down for a whole month. Most people have a place outside the urban sprawl where they spend July and August, these range from small wooden shacks to huge and hideous breeze-block houses surrounded by high concrete walls. In the past travel abroad was difficult and expensive but now since Poland's accession into the European Union many more people are taking advantage of budget flights to venture further into the continent and overseas.
The new airport in Lodz (paid for with EU funds) provides quick and cheap travel to London, Edinburgh, Liverpool, Dublin, Shannon, Rome, Tunisia etc. The majority are flying for the first time and the Ryanair staff are endlessly pleading with the roudy mob to stop pushing, switch off their mobiles and refrain from smoking in the lavatory.
Being one of the few left in town is pleasant albeit hot as there is no river through the city or any lakes to speak of. Fewer lunatic drivers means less roaring traffic and hostility, and the tranquil parks provide solace as I was poignantly reminded yesterday.
"I've seen you often," an attractive woman in her fifties said to me... "I recognise the dogs." Her husband and sons had all moved to the UK two years ago and she was alone, although they visited. She did not want to leave Poland as she spoke no English and had an aging mother here. She whispered to me that she came to the park frequently to cry. She gazed into the distance as though she were concentrating on someone far away...
"Maybe you could help me, but I don't think so..."
My years here have hardened me and consequently I have long stopped reacting to such ambiguous requests. It is not the first time a stranger has opened up to me, especially in the public gardens which seem to attract an army of lonely individuals, all wandering around aimlessly.
