A Feeling of Regret & Wonder – One Final Morning In Gdansk (Northern Poland & Berlin #57a)

The best and worst part of dreams is that you cannot die in them, but you can die of them. That ultimately explains the end of the trip to Northern Poland and Berlin. My sense of invulnerability over the past two weeks was almost gone. This, the final day of the trip, meant that Poland’s presence was only as a point of departure. The first flight for my travel companion and I was not until noon. This seemed like a fantastic idea when I first booked the journey several months before. No jarring alarm before dawn, no red eye rushes to the airport, no nosebleed sunrises, and no guzzling of supersized coffee to stay awake long enough for check-in. Instead, we would be able to proceed at a modest pace. Unfortunately, this pace turned out to be excruciating rather than pleasant. I learned the meaning of that time worn phrase that “waiting is the hardest part.” We had a bit of breakfast and waited for the inevitable. The next four hours felt like forever. ?

Facing The Truth – Acts of Avoidance

Food often plays a role in finality, think of the Last Supper or a prisoner having their final meal prior to execution. This personal Polish drama was no different for me. I sat on the sofa stuffing my mouth full of sweet rolls covered in the thinnest layer of powdered sugar. I chased it down with strong coffee and an extra infusion of caffeine by way of a soft drink. The sweet rolls were a delicious distraction from the depressing thoughts that seized me. I ate with the kind of ravenous energy usually reserved for those on the verge of starvation. The food kept me from falling into a complete stupor or at least disguising it. My travel companion had as few words as I did. If ever there was a scene of two men at a loss of what to say, then this was its essence. Small talk was little more than a stream of banalities. We knew the end was near, but we were not quite there.

At some point, we must all face the truth. This can be about ourselves or about those things we have been trying to avoid. Sooner or later, the truth comes for us all. I had spent much of this trip in denial that it would end. Trying to ignore the dwindling number of days we had left in Poland became impossible as the date of departure grew ever closer. A couple of days earlier on the drive back from Olsztyn, an ominous thought came over me. I would never again see most of the places in Poland that we visited. I wanted to hold onto them and never let them go. This was selfish and I did not care. I hate taking leave anywhere. For some reason – most likely from childhood abandonment – I find it easier to leave people than places. I find people to be capricious and unpredictable, whereas places have a permanence to them. Of course, I could always return to Poland. After all, this was my third trip.

Eternal Revelry - For Better Or Worse?

I felt a mixture of regret and wonder. A strange sensation that arises from having to take leave. The wonder came from the afterglow of the past two weeks, a time of enchantment. The regret from knowing that this trip would soon become a memory. In many ways, it already was. The problem was one I have faced all too often. Specifically, I can never return to the same place for the first time. Most of us remember for better or worse the first time we fell in love or the first time we had sex. That is the way I remember the first time I set foot in a foreign country (Alberta, Canada) and the first time I set foot in Eastern Europe (Sofia, Bulgaria). That is the way I will remember this trip to northern Poland.

The trip had been filled with a series of impressions seared into my memory. It was as though all the places we wanted to visit had come to us, as much as we came to them. There was Reszel which will forever frame my idea of what a provincial town should be. It had materialized before our eyes as if an act of magic. The majesty of Malbork Castle, which paradoxically appeared from the roadside in such a matter-of-fact manner that it made me believe that it had always been there. The sense of wonder and awe I felt inside churches in Gdansk, the purity and chill of the air coming off the Baltic, the deep green of Warmia’s countryside, the sound of labored breaths while scaling towers. I could eternally revel in these memories, but the trip was still going to end.

Moment of Clarity – A Dangerous Idea

The fatalistic thoughts began to flow. This manifested itself in absolutes, with phrases like “never again” and “last time” entering my mind. A scarcity mentality gone slightly mad. I have long since realized that the desire to stay somewhere forever is a childlike fantasy. One that my older self knows is impossible. This has never kept me from trying. Unfortunately, reality will eventually impose itself upon me. This was where I found myself in Gdansk on the morning of May 3rd sitting on the sofa at 66/67 Ogarna Street wishing this journey would not end.

All the excitement and wonder that accompanied arrival a fortnight ago had now dissipated. There was only a dreadful sense of inevitability. Now I wished that time would tick faster to bring about a final resolution to this painful process. Mentally, I had already taken leave. This often happens to me just before leaving a land I have grown to adore. If there is anything sadder than the final hours of a journey that has brought me the most intense pleasure, I have yet to experience it. Perhaps death, which was what this final morning felt like. I did not want this trip to end, but I knew it would have to. I could not just keep going and going for many more months. Then again, I could. That was a dangerous idea, one that made too much sense.