I don’t usually take this type of photos, like the one above, but I’m glad I did, because it’s a fun little memory for me—trying to change from shorts to long pants in Park Źródliska II without getting spotted by any passing women and mistaken for some kind of park perv…
When I left home that morning, it was sunny and warm, so I was wearing short sleeves and shorts. But since I’m no rookie when it comes to Polish weather, I had long pants and a hoodie in my backpack. I hung out on a bench under a big tree that gave me some shelter from the rain. Surprisingly, quite a few people were walking through the park, considering the weather.
At one point, a young guy walked by and with him, a female lab or golden retriever (don’t remember which, but one of those “family dog” breeds). Right as they passed me, he pulled out a ball, said something in an excited tone, and rolled it down the cobblestone path. The dog (a bit on the chubby side) gave it a look, like it was a mildly interesting object that didn’t concern her at all. His enthusiasm went unanswered, echoing sadly through the park. He picked up the ball and they wandered off deeper into the trees.
Worth noting this wasn’t a separate outing but just a continuation of the previous one—I had just left the Museum of Cinematography and discovered it was raining pretty hard. My original plan for the day was to visit Źródliska II Park, Źródliska I Park, and the Łódź Palm House (Palmiarnia Łódzka) in the latter. The museum stop was a spontaneous detour—I saw online that they had props from the movie Kingsajz.
Both parts of Źródliska Park are worth checking out—there’s a great vibe. These are the oldest parks in Łódź; originally, they were one park called the Walking Garden (Ogród Spacerowy), but in the late 1850s, they were split in half, and the western side was bought by the “Cotton King” factory owner Karol Scheibler. Tons of trees grow there, including 300-year-old oaks that are natural monuments. The park has collected quite a few titles—designated as a natural monument, a historical monument, listed as a heritage site, and even named the most beautiful park in Poland and fifth most beautiful in Europe by the gardening company Briggs & Stratton.
In the park you’ll find walking paths, gazebos, sculptures, swampy spots, ponds (one with its own little island), and of course the Palm House. There’s also a flower garden and a grotto that looks like an AT-AT Imperial Walker from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.
Between parts I and II, right on the edge of the park near Fabryczna Street, there used to be a gasworks and carriage house owned by K. Scheibler—now it’s just a full-on ruin.
Last time I was in Park Źródliska, back in March 2025, I also stopped by the Tubajka café, but the line was so long I gave up. This time I got a seat, recharged my phone, had a drink and something to eat. The inside is lovely, and being located in such a beautiful park adds to the charm. I ordered asparagus ravioli—delicious and nicely presented, though the portion was so small I basically left still hungry.
The Łódź Palm House, my original destination that day, is just over 100 meters from Tubajka. And I have to say, as someone born in Gdańsk who really appreciates the Palm House in Oliwa—Łódź’s is bigger, more impressive, and more lush (though Oliwa’s building has cooler architecture!).
I’m totally obsessed with plants; I could wander among them for hours! Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay long because, thanks to that spontaneous museum visit, I only had 40 minutes until closing time at 6:00 PM.
After leaving the Palm House, I decided to walk to Piotrkowska Street to grab something more after that ravioli.
On the way, I snapped a photo of the abandoned Central Office Building (Biurowiec Centralu). What a shame about that building! Iconic brutalist architecture in the heart of the city—you could turn that into something super creative, like an OFF Piotrkowska-style space. A hub for cool restaurants, artist studios, galleries, little shops. But nope—it just stands there being a billboard.
Right now, on a building on Piotrkowska Street, you can see a piece by Maciej Polak, made as part of the promo campaign for the Andor series. He mixed Star Wars themes with the motif of the EC1 Planetarium in Łódź, kind of like how Marcin Wolski mashed up Gdańsk’s crane.
I popped briefly into the friendly little spot Planszówkowi Astronauci (Board Game Astronauts in Polish), since the stairs leading to it (it’s in a basement) are right under Polak’s mural.
Near the stairs, they’ve got these framed blurbs about what to expect in this RPG-and-board-game-style bar. Always makes me smile when I see I’m in two of the RPG session photos—once as a Game Master, once as a player.
Back in the day, I ran quite a few sessions for their guests in a few systems: Monster of the Week, Broken Compass, Into the Odd, Warlock, Shadow of the Demon Lord. I’ve been on a bit of a break lately, but—even though I haven’t told Marcin and Martyna yet—I’d like to come back and run a few more. Monster of the Week is a sure thing, because I’ve got some new ideas for stories set in modern-day Łódź with supernatural elements. Into the Odd might make a comeback too, I still feel like I haven’t played enough of that one. Maybe even Broken Compass again, since I love the mechanics and still have unrealized plans for a “Łódź-style Broken Sword” story.
There’s this food truck (well, technically a “food trailer”) at OFF Piotrkowska—Maniak Pizza. They do pizza, but weird: the slices have these cheesy “grip cones” at the bottom you hold onto, filled with cheese. I absolutely love their pies, but it’s like I’m cursed—can never seem to catch them when they’re open. And the one time recently I did catch them open, I had just stuffed myself 10 minutes earlier somewhere else.
I finally managed to actually eat something more substantial that evening at Otwarte Drzwi (“Open Doors”), an Italian cuisine restaurant. Beautiful interior and fantastic service. I had a delicious cinque formaggi pizza (mozzarella, mozzarella di Bufala, Gorgonzola, Taleggio, Grana Padano chips, basil).