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Last year was one of the toughest: two big moves, intense studying, launching a mobile app, turning thirty, a bunch of broken promises, and a scary existential dead-end. I’ll leave this post here as a warning to my future self.
Another New Year in Cyprus
The start was legendary: we welcomed the year on a favorite island with favorite people, burned down one roof, got into one accident, broke one phone, and drowned one wireless earbud. And just before the new year, an entire house broke down — and my ass too.
Despite the geography, January was cold. So cold that an oil heater became a victim, and the mountains were generously covered in snow.
A Year-Long Crunch
We spent almost three months in Cyprus — waiting for our long-term Polish visas. The lazy lifestyle helped me fully focus on work. Everything was going great: Outmarketing* was growing, new contacts and projects were appearing, and I decided to learn a new profession and started a twelve-month web design course.
At the end of February, we shut down the legendary sameshirt* — a project that brought tons of fun but took too much time. In March, we took on a new project — the meditation app Praktika. In the fall, we got bored again and went through a rebranding of the main business. Now out.agency focuses on UI/UX design.
These swings gradually turned into an avalanche of missed deadlines and unfinished goals. It hit me so hard that by the end of the year, I felt completely drained, apathetic, and disgusted by any talk about work or business. Looking back, I have to admit I should’ve dropped half of those ventures.
Thanks to Anton, Dana, Pasha, Yulia, and the others who carried the load when I had no strength left.
Moving to Poland
Changing our permanent base was a separate challenge. At the end of April, after a short visit home, we got our work visas and finally wrapped up the long relocation process. With the clatter of train wheels on the Moscow–Warsaw route began a period full of frustration and bureaucracy.
We lived in Wrocław for five months. During our first visit to Poland, the former German Breslau in Lower Silesia seemed like the perfect place to live: mild climate, good ecology, four hours to Prague and Berlin. What could go wrong?
The fourth largest city in Poland turned out to be too tight and closed off. Despite its rapid development and ambitions to be Poland’s Silicon Valley, Wrocław felt provincial and, in some spots, reminded me of Uralmash back in my youth.
Sick of this unpleasant analogy, we decided to move our fragile lives to Kraków — the once mighty capital of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. We lost time again, our daily routine, the apartment deposit, and got caught in another loop of frustration and bureaucracy.
Fortunately, the second attempt worked out, and we found a place that fits our lifestyle (plus a great apartment with a terrace and rare central heating for these parts).
The only problem: after years of wandering, I got used to the nomadic life and feel a constant urge to move somewhere else. But in the coming years, I won’t have the energy for that anymore.
At least I can offer legal and general advice on relocating to Poland for anyone interested.
Travels, Friends, and Loneliness
Between work, study, and moving, we managed to visit several places with varying degrees of tourist appeal. We went to Prague three times (falling more in love with it every visit) and Berlin twice (with the same effect).
We had a wonderful July weekend in Paris, which softened my harsh negative feelings toward the French capital left from my first visit in 2014.
We didn’t overlook Budapest — though we didn’t fall in love either. It felt boring, untidy, and too non-European.
We traveled around Poland. Starting with Warsaw, which I liked less with every visit. Continuing with Katowice and Wałbrzych, which didn’t disappoint. Ending with castles and national parks that amazed me. Poland has incredibly beautiful nature and excellent infrastructure for weekend adventures.
An introvert’s life abroad is a voluntary isolation. So I want to say thanks to friends who visited, invited me on trips, and helped melt the loneliness: Igoryan, Vanya, Nikita, Sasha, Shasa, Alice, Seryoga, Vita and his family. And many others, whose spontaneous and pleasant meetings meant a lot. Thanks.
I miss Russia, but the thought of going back only visits me in nightmares.
A New Decade
The end of 2019 brought a new decade for all humanity — and for me personally. On December 21st, I turned thirty. Burdened by the weight of a tough year and the symbolism of the age, I found myself stuck in a dead end, one I’ll have to figure out how to get through in 2020.
I celebrated my birthday in beloved Prague with my favorite humanoids. I drank all the Moravian wine and Christmas mulled beer I could find.
I welcomed the New Year in the mountains, once again with great company. We saw snow — the kind Krakow still hasn’t had and doesn’t seem to be getting anytime soon.
For 2020, I wish myself more essentialism: to sort out the current mess, understand my desires, and focus.
