The Raba River

by Julia Labedz (Ireland)

I didn't expect to find Poland

Crystalline water envelops me in its crisp embrace, gently moving my hair, letting it dance in its depths. I lay on its fragile surface, staring at the blue sky above me, watching grey clouds pass over me, avoiding the sun. It’s warm. Awfully warm. The heat of this Eastern European summer drowns me, almost burning the grass around me to a golden shade, limiting the rivers size and steadying its flow. This small Polish town has been a place of rest and rejuvenation for me for years, a break from Dublin city life - yet my rediscovery of it this year seems different, almost...monumental. I return my focus to the cerulean ocean above me, and as a bird flies over the sun, its shadow encompassing me - I close my eyes and I am now it. The power of my mind flies me over a landscape most familiar yet strangely foreign. Below me, fields of wheat and flowers, emerald forests and the same, meandering river passes at a steady pace. I focus on the rich smell of petals, watching them in all their glory from afar. Next, my heightened senses follow the pine trees lining my towns border, inhaling their musky scent. I return to the river, the stones at its bay like little pearls from this distance, smelting in the summer heat. A cooling breeze ruffles my imaginary wings, and I swoop down towards the water source, a rumbling waterfall in the distance. Multitudes of fish travel down the stream, the river's current carrying them through the beautiful valley. I land on a rock covered in moss, near the tree line yet still focusing on the river and its trail. I take this time to admire my surroundings in greater detail. Far from the towns market square and its progressive industrialization I relish in the peace of an untouched paradise. Perhaps not riddled with eccentric parrots or refreshing coconut, yet full of grandma’s summer chicken broth and memories of childhood. You cannot pay for these experiences, these brisk moments of delight. I linger in those images, returning every summer to my little home. The air is still again, yet the aroma of pine and country air lift up and above, circulating around the valley - maintaining its charm. As I stand perched atop the rock, in between the pebbles on the shore life thrives - poppies as red as flames sway gently. I watch them carefully, observing their stems bend and their petals move in sync with the rhythm of the small, tumbling waterfall. It mists them. The distinct ‘plop’ of water droplets into the moving current create the perfect splash back to the surrounding greenery. Further up the stream, below a smaller drop, a rainbow forms. It stretches from one side of the shrunken river to the other, and I almost await a pot of gold on its other end - perhaps this is the treasure itself? Suddenly, a darkness shrouds the entirety of the valley. Silence deafens the area, the rainbow vanishes and the poppies do not seem as bright as before. I shiver. Wait - I? A drop of water hits my tanned face, shaking me out of my trance. I return to my being on the water, floating mercilessly in its grasp. Water begins to fall from the sky, and as I float in this calm pool, thunder rumbles in the distance. My head turns to the left, scanning the shore and finally landing on a large rock. Atop the boulder, a bird sits poised - perched and ready - but for what exactly? As my eyes meet its, it opens its mighty wings and with a powerful movement strikes itself into the air. Only the feathers from its hasty departure remain, alongside the increasingly louder rumbling of the dark sky. That is precisely the magic of Myslenice - its ability to disorientate you, shove you off the beaten path and ultimately allow you to find yourself in the process. I can feel the valley awaken yet again, the Raba river thriving with life. I didn’t expect to find myself among these rolling hills, the pine-tree crowned peaks of valley life.