That day I wasn’t planning on going for a walk, but InPost surprised me in the best way — they delivered a package on Friday that I wasn’t expecting in the paczkomat (parcel locker) until after the weekend. Inside was the Ulanzi CG02 smartphone grip. My photo walks can last anywhere from four to eight hours, and holding a phone up for that long makes my fingers go numb.
This particular walk wasn’t the longest, but definitely not short either. I started shooting at 5:42 PM and wrapped up at 11:55 PM — so a little over six hours. I’m not gonna lie and say there was zero discomfort — holding onto anything in one position for that long will get to you — but it was way more comfortable than trying to grip a phone awkwardly for hours. The price-to-quality ratio of the Ulanzi CG02 is seriously great. The handle part is made of slightly rubberized plastic — feels nice to the touch. The part that touches the phone is super soft and rubbery, and the clamps are strong and rubber-coated too, so your phone sits in there solid and safe.
The shutter button is right where it would be on a real camera, which is so much better than poking at the screen all the time to take a photo. And bonus: the shutter button is detachable — it sticks on magnetically — so you can use it as a wireless remote. Super handy, since the grip has a flat bottom you can set down somewhere, or you can screw it onto a tripod (it’s got a standard 1/4″ mount on the bottom). It also has a cold shoe on top, so you can attach accessories like a mic or extra light (in case the built-in LED with its 1000mAh battery doesn’t cut it).
If it were up to me, my dream grip would have an even chunkier handle — maybe even more rubbery — but honestly, this is a fantastic purchase that’s seriously leveled up my photowalk experience.
While walking, I passed by Galeria Bałucka (art gallery) near Stary Rynek (Old Market Square), which had just closed — need to remember to check it out sometime.
Łódź is freaking amazing. The longer I live near it and visit it, the more convinced I am. But it’s really important to me to show the real face of Łódź — with all the views you can get here: from amazing museums to one of the most beautiful parks in Europe. From the most modern train station I’ve seen (Łódź Fabryczna) to old tenement houses and wooden add-ons. From polished tourist spots to crumbling buildings just around the corner. From a huge number of awesome bars, street art, and art projects to windows stacked with empty “małpki” (small vodka bottles). I honestly believe you don’t need to sugarcoat anything to show what makes this city special.
I’ve seen that phrase floating around online — “Łódź to stan umysłu” (“Łódź is a state of mind”) — and I totally agree with it. Though I take it differently than most — not as a diss, but as the highest compliment. Łódź is that state of mind you have when you look at a rundown tenement and see a cozy bar that — with a bit of love — could turn into a place people adore. Łódź is that state of mind when you see a crumbling wall and imagine a gorgeous piece of street art. When you look at an abandoned factory and see a modern shopping center with restaurants. When you see an old palace and imagine a museum dedicated to one of the things this city is known for — cinematography.
At the very end of my walk, somewhere on ul. Piotrkowska, I spotted a sign pointing down an alley to a craft beer bar I hadn’t heard of before. So I turned in, and found this little gazebo thing lit up with red glowing strips. The lit-up sign with the name — Rademenes — was also red, making for a really cohesive and eye-catching vibe.
When I saw the Rademenes sign, I had a hunch the name was a reference to something — so when I got home I looked it up on DuckDuckGo, and turns out Rademenes was the name of the talking cat from “Siedem życzeń” (“Seven Wishes”) — a Polish teen series from 1984.
When I walked in, I saw a guy behind the bar with a black cat on his lap. (Later found out from an article that the cat is also named… Rademenes.) The place was totally empty — later a couple girls came in, but still, pretty deserted for a Friday night right off Piotrkowska. I ordered a Blackcyl from Trzech Kumpli — one of my all-time favorite black IPAs — and kinda couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between the two girls and the bar owner.
Craft beer bars in Poland usually have a certain aesthetic — sure, every place has its own twist, but you can bet on a few things: white walls, lots of wood (either raw or “sloppily” painted in some artsy way), a bunch of plants, some visual art (paintings or minimalist prints), maybe a neon sign or weird lighting.
Rademenes looks like a generic 90s Polish beer bar — tiled walls, tacky lamps, random artwork totally clashing with the vibe. Being there — the decor, the emptiness, the sight of the owner doing something on his laptop behind the bar, the sound of his mouse clicking — it all felt like a scene from some surreal arthouse film. That said, I’m definitely going back.
