The Places We Have Been To...

Some places stay on your skin even long after you have left them. They appear in different forms when you look at something; sometimes a train station, sometimes just a park. No matter what shape they take, you know you carry a piece of where you have been to. You change a little each time you go somewhere, even if you do not notice it at first. You will never be the same person once you create that connection between yourself and a place, whether it’s a big city, a small village, or a meadow in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere, in a quiet corner of your memory, a part of you still waits there, waiting for your return, to teach you something, or to make you the lesson in someone else’s story.

Imagine visiting a place you had never even heard of and slowly, almost unknowingly, beginning to bond with it; until it feels as if it were calling out to you. You start hearing this call and begin to take it seriously. Well, that is what happened to me. There was a place I visited only once, for just one day, but even that one day was enough for me to fall in love with it. Later, I decided to experience that place for longer. I wanted it to become a part of me, and I wanted to become one of its pieces. There it was: Wrocław.

When I landed at the airport, it felt so natural, as if I had finally arrived home. I passed through the gates and began my journey there. It took a few hours, since I needed to transfer, but it was worth it. I already knew it would be easy, and it was. Yet the excitement of my arrival was overwhelming. I felt the cool wind of a rainy June day, and nothing had felt so natural for a long time. Being there felt like a quiet explosion in my mind; something I had wished for deeply. My thoughts kept repeating: I am here. It was one of the most exciting moments of my life and career. This place had a duty waiting for me; it was, of course, my academic practice, but it was also something more.

The bridges near that beautiful house of mine, the tram sounds, the smell of rain; it felt as if I was learning to live again. Hearing people speak a different language, seeing new license plates, inhaling unfamiliar air; it all felt different, but in the best possible way. The tune of that huge market, the man announcing the bus and tram stops, especially the way he pronounced the a sound, still echoes in my mind. Every time I see or hear something that reminds me of those moments, I go back to Wrocław. My body reacts as if everything were happening again, just like it did months ago.

The practice awaiting me filled me with tense emotions, as if I had never taught anything before. However, it soon became much easier than I had expected. Each lesson I carried out during my practice was invaluable, making me feel like the best student teacher through the precious feedback I received.

Through it all, a feeling of belonging began to appear. Going to that school became a part of my life so easily and so perfectly that I never wanted it to stop. Nevertheless, I knew deep down that it would end soon, even though I tried to forget that truth for a while.

In my naivety, new emotions began to grow in me. I felt connected to another soul, a connection that later turned into heartbreak and left me feeling lost and miserable, teaching me some of life’s hardest realities. Once, I had felt connected, loved, and wanted; yet later, I longed to leave immediately because of the ups and downs I was forced to face and endure.

Before Wrocław, I had lived in cities that taught me how to move, how to keep going; but Wrocław taught me how to stay still, even as I was leaving. I learnt how to go somewhere while letting a part of my soul stay behind, where it belonged and felt happy. Despite the heartbreak, my heart still belonged there, no matter how heavy the pain was.

Living there showed me that feelings and circumstances can exist together; sometimes painfully so. I can let something go and still miss it deeply.

Wrocław is just one example; a place that taught me how to belong, how to love, how to lose, and how to keep walking. Maybe the places we have been to no longer live on a map but inside us: the way we adapt, in the voices that echo in our memories, in what we forgive, and in what we still hope for. They shape us quietly, even long after we have left, reminding us who we were when we arrived, and who we became when we left.

Hans