We didn’t have as much time in Poland as we had hoped for after a week spent in Prague catching up with mates and losing money, before Bani got tonsillitis on the Czech/ Polish border. Because of this we had to power through (if that is possible in a VW) the endless fields and potholed roads to catch our ferry across the Baltic sea from Gdansk in the north and only had time for a brief stop in the town of Poznan. Despite being marked on google maps even when considerably zoomed out there wasn’t much to do there other than cycle around a huge man-made lake, past old soviet industrial areas and into the old town. The local museum proved to be a waste of money even though the entrance fee was only 20p and after a short walk around the aesthetically pleasing traditional buildings the only thing left to do was have a beer and rest up. This is when I stumbled upon my small wad of koruna I had budgeted for Prague and was slapped with the sizeable revelation of my stupidity that I had not lost it or been mugged on the first night out but had hidden it so well from my inebriated self that the sober counterpart couldn’t find it for the next week. This, as well as the foolish idea that a locations quality was in direct correlation to how far you can zoom out on maps and still see the name, will always serve as a reminder of my idiocy whenever I think of my afternoon in Poznan. The main redeeming feature is its fascination with a pair of billy goats who had a fight infront of the rebuilt town hall five hundred years ago after a cook let them escape before a feast, but as that legend wasn’t told in the twenty pence wasting museum but on google, it is not redeeming enough to boost it higher on my list. I’m sure the half a million inhabitants of Poznan will be devastated when they all read this.
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