Upside-Down House in Szymbark, Poland

It was time to leave Gdańsk behind, a city that had filled our days with history, architecture, and the hum of maritime life. The morning began quietly, with bags neatly packed and the early light touching the rooftops of the old Hanseatic town. Before setting off, we paused for one last look across the Motława River. The calm water reflected the outlines of the merchant houses and the city’s famous medieval crane — that great wooden symbol of Gdańsk’s trading past. Around it, the cobbled quays were already stirring to life. Cafés were setting out chairs, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the cool air. It was a city that had known prosperity and ruin, resilience and rebirth, its streets whispering stories of merchants, shipbuilders, and soldiers.

As we drove out, the tall red-brick spires of the churches receded behind us, giving way to the open landscape of northern Poland. The transition from city to countryside was gradual but steady. Rows of post-war apartment blocks gave way to clusters of single-storey homes, their gardens neatly kept and fences painted in cheerful colours. Beyond the villages, the landscape stretched out flat and generous. Fields of golden stubble and ripening maize were divided by narrow tree lines, while small patches of forest appeared like islands of green in the distance. Occasionally, a stork could be seen nesting atop a telegraph pole — a familiar sight in rural Poland — as the bird surveyed the quiet farmland below.

The drive southward had a slow rhythm to it, the kind that invites you to look out of the window and simply observe. Each village seemed to have its own small church, usually built in red brick, with a modest tower and a few gravestones clustered around its walls. Many had roadside shrines and crosses decorated with ribbons and flowers, showing how strong the country’s rural faith still runs. Even the bus stops, painted in bright colours or shaped like tiny huts, carried a certain charm. It was Poland seen at a gentler pace, a reminder that outside its great cities, time still moves with the seasons rather than the clock.

🏠 The Upside-Down House

Our first stop on the journey was something quite different — the famous upside-down house, one of Poland’s more curious modern attractions. Even from the car park, it was impossible not to stop and stare. The entire building appeared to have been dropped from the sky and landed on its roof, its foundations sticking absurdly into the air. Windows were at odd angles, and the chimney seemed to point in completely the wrong direction. It was deliberately designed to confuse the eye and the mind, and it succeeded from the moment we arrived.

Walking up the short path towards it felt like approaching a puzzle. The familiar lines of a house — door, windows, roof — were all rearranged. Instead of a front step, there was a patch of turf above your head. Instead of flower boxes, there were drainpipes. It played with every expectation of what a home should look like. Groups of tourists laughed as they tried to make sense of it, cameras clicking constantly. Children ran ahead, eager to go inside, while older visitors lingered outside, shaking their heads in disbelief and amusement.

Stepping through the entrance — itself tilted and awkward — the sense of disorientation grew stronger. The interior was a mirror image of normal life turned completely on its head. Furniture hung above you as though fixed to the ceiling, and lamps seemed to dangle upward. The wooden floor slanted sharply, forcing you to adjust your balance with each step, like walking across the deck of a ship caught in rough waves. Even standing still felt strange, as your eyes struggled to accept what your body was experiencing. The effect was deliberate and surprisingly powerful, a playful lesson in perception.

The house was more than a novelty; it was built as a commentary on how the world can seem inverted during times of change. In Poland’s case, it is sometimes interpreted as a reflection of the political and social upheavals that have turned life “upside down” more than once in the nation’s history. Yet the mood here was anything but sombre. Inside, families laughed as they posed for photos, pretending to hang from ceilings or balance on walls. The upside-down house had become a small cultural phenomenon, not only for its optical illusion but for the joy it brings to those who visit.

Outside again, the air felt steady and real after the strange sensations of the interior. A row of stalls nearby sold souvenirs — postcards, small wooden carvings, and magnets shaped like inverted homes. It was a reminder that in Poland, even the light-hearted attractions often carry a trace of history and meaning beneath their surface. We left amused and slightly dizzy, still laughing about how the world had briefly been turned on its head.

🪶 Final Thoughts

The journey south from Gdańsk marked a gentle change of pace — from the grandeur of a historic port city to the quiet landscapes and small curiosities of rural Poland. The countryside, with its patchwork of fields and traditional villages, offered a glimpse of the country’s enduring simplicity and rhythm. The upside-down house, with its playful defiance of perspective, added a note of humour and reflection to the day, reminding us how easily familiar things can be seen anew when viewed from a different angle.

It was a journey that balanced the solemn echoes of history with the lightness of discovery — a fitting continuation of travel through a country where past and present meet in unexpected ways.