Ben Sixsmith is an English writer. He has written for Quillette, Areo, The Catholic Herald, The American Conservative and Arc Digital on a variety of topics including literature and politics.

When I first came to Poland, about ten years ago, the average Western European person still viewed the country through the lens of the Cold War — imagining grey skies, and factories, and miserable queues. Would I be able to open a bank account? Would I have the Internet?

Foolish prejudices, of course, but we hadn’t had enough exposure to Poland to think otherwise. Things have changed since then. A lot of Westerners have discovered Kraków — not just men on stag dos, hunting for a place where you don’t have to spend £5 on a pint of beer or sell off your internal organs for a pack of cigarettes, but also the kind of tourists who, on other years, might visit Paris or Rome. The grand architecture, the museums, the various restaurants and the charmingly eccentric maze of side-streets have dispelled the bleak reputation of the country for millions.

But Poland is so much more than that. I don’t feel at all oikophobic in suggesting that more of its larger cities are worth visiting than England’s. Could I, in good conscience, recommend a long weekend in Birmingham? In Bristol? No offence to Brummies and Bristolians but God might strike me down. Yet I could recommend Warsaw, with its history and entrepreneurialism, or Gdańsk, with its unique architecture and its access to the sea. I could recommend Wrocław (even if English speakers would find its name exceptionally unpronounceable) and I could recommend Toruń. If residents of Poznan or Lublin are offended not to be mentioned then it’s just because I haven’t had the pleasure of visiting yet. But I’m sure I will.

Still, Poland is so much more even than that. The range of its natural treasures is extraordinary. There are the mountains of the Tatras, and the Beskids, and Bieszczady — good for skiers in search of a cheaper holiday than might be offered by the Swiss but also for hiking. Adventurous souls will enjoy the snow, the winding paths and the elusive presence of wolves, bears and lynx, but the convenience could be unexpected. When a friend said we would sleep in a “shelter” in the mountains, on a walking weekend, I imagined sleeping on bare wooden planks and pissing by a tree. I was amazed to find a warm hostel with comfortable beds, cold beer and breakfasts.

Then there are the lakes of Masuria (a whopping 2000 of them) and the dense forests of Białowieza and Puszcza Bukowa. Sea lovers might visit Sopot or Hel — though, for all the appeal of their long white beaches, there’s no point pretending that leaping into the Baltic Sea has quite the same effect as leaping into the Mediterranean (still, I hear that cold plunges have a lot of health benefits).

Poland is rich in memories, of course, and some of them nightmarish. Visitors humble themselves at Auschwitz, Treblinka and other concentration and extermination camps, where the Germans scarred the Polish landscape with suffering and death. But Polish history is more than that. There are the mighty castles of the Middle Ages, and the Baroque churches and palaces of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth — at one point among the most powerful, prosperous and modern states in Europe. There is the Wieliczka Salt Mine, and the Guido coal mine, and even the silver mine of my beloved hometown Tarnowskie Góry, where the non-claustrophobic visitor can marvel at human courage and ingenuity.

Getting around is a lot easier than it used to be. Roads have sprouted across Poland. Airports are bustling. It would be dishonest to pretend that one can book a ticket on a train without the slight risk of lateness. Yet they are a lot cheaper than trains in England — which, granted, is like saying that Sicily is colder than Kenya — and they have delightful buffet cars in which you can buy not just crisps and chocolate but a full-blown meal.

I’ve known people who have been concerned that Poles might be insular and hostile to outsiders. This is arrant nonsense. Granted, they aren’t bending over backwards to appeal to visitors — as indeed they shouldn’t. Nations are not open-air museums and tourists are not children. But beneath their outward guardedness — that Polish countenance of vague suspicion — I’ve found Poles to be extremely friendly, funny and inquisitive — though if you’re rejecting the offer of a drink you had better have an iron will or a damn good reason (being on a course of antibiotics, perhaps).

Finally, a note on the weather. When I came here I was labouring under the perhaps unusually ignorant assumption that I was destined to freeze my nose off throughout the year. Sure, Poland can be very cold in the winter — where streets are beautiful in the snow and rather less beautiful when the snow is melting. But the spring tends to be warm and the summer is downright hot. Poland in July and August feels continental. And of course sometimes it is grey. It’s grey today in fact. But how could I complain? I’m from England after all.

You should visit Poland. I doubt you will regret it.