Tag: Silesia / Śląsk
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t was a ridiculous thought, but it grounded everything: a British ex-cop turned English teacher, locking a bicycle beneath the gaze of a Soviet tank before walking into a Prussian courthouse to instruct senior judiciary and paralegals. Gliwice had a unique way of making the improbable feel entirely normal.
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My hair looked bizarre — marked with patterns like leopard‑fur rosettes, with distinct white patches scattered through my usual brown and grey. I didn’t know what to say.
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When I filmed it in March 2014 hauling Intercity coaches and a classic WARS bar car, that machine had already been relentlessly pounding the Polish rails for 45 years straight. It is the absolute definition of an industrial workhorse.
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When the new train doors hissed shut behind me in Gliwice, I rolled my bicycle straight into the back of a police riot shield wall. I was trapped in the dead zone between a tactical line and ten very hungover football hooligans. It was turning into quite a Sunday morning…”
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“From sharing traditional Silesian Szkloki sweets with a constellation of local schoolgirls to witnessing a perfectly synchronized, carefree performance on a June hillside, my time on the rails proved one thing: Silesia always has a habit of surprising you when you least expect it.”
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Walking into it felt like entering a small, bustling theatre where everyone except me already knew their lines.
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You weren’t there to linger. You were there to take part in a ritual that had existed long before you arrived and would continue long after you left.
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“This last thing is not a meal… it’s a container for food if you want to take it away.”
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Nothing must happen to them.
