Dear all,
After a year discerning, J and I decided M and
S were ready to spend some time contemplating
life's darker side. We have witnessed so much beauty
and privilege in the past two years. We wanted to
balance things out, taking advantage of the historical
treasures nearby. It was with heavy hearts that
M, S and I headed for Krakow, Poland to
tour the Nazi death camps, Auschwitz and Birkenau.
The weekend wasn't totally depressing. First of all,
it was a good laugh traveling with just the three of
us. J is a nervous traveler, so there is always a
level of underlying strain. I operate on the notion
that as long as you have plenty of time and your
passports, you may as well relax because soon you'll
board the plane and A will dump a full yogurt into
your lap. Save your stress. Not J. J spends so
much time dicking around asking questions regarding
the plane's whereabouts, what city the plane was
flying in from so he can stare intensely at the
arrival/departure board like he's watching the Cubs
play in the World Series or something, rushing us all
into the bathroom, flushing the kids out of the duty
free shops and getting in line to board WAY too early-
in defense, he admitted that he isn't always first
onto the plane. Once he was third. All while I
contently flip through my Hello! magazine. It was
with pride and more than a bit of a thrill, then, that
we were nearly last to board the plane to Poland.
We arrived in Krakow in the morning, but missed the
one scheduled city bus tour. No other option
but to take the GOLF CART tour of Krakow. So, we add
that to the list of insanely dangerous things we've
done in the name of tourism. Krakow was dirty.
Really dirty. Years and years of grime, graffiti and
communism. It looks exactly like every WW2 movie
you've ever seen. It is a young town, with a few
universities, but still it seemed a bit cheerless. I
understand that the arts are alive and well in Krakow.
Actually, my new friend, Penny told me that. I met
Penny in the Krakow airport on the way home. She
lives a block away from us. She and her husband
went to Krakow to see an opera. My new friend,
Penny, said the opera house was more beautiful than
most, including London 's (which is, apparently,
dreadful). My new friend, Penny, said that the
theaters were well taken care of under communist rule.
My new friend, Penny was rather bossy and opinionated
and I bet all of her "regular" friends say things
like, "My friend Penny says...", all the time driving
their loved ones crazy. Her husband was the silent
suffering type. Funny. J describes himself in the
same words...
The site of the old Jewish ghetto is still surrounded
by a brick wall, barbed wire and some sort of rubble,
from what I do not know. Krakow was never bombed
during the war. The old ghetto was nearly deserted
and eerie on a Saturday and, I suspect most days. We
rode by Schindler's factory, on which the movie,
Schindler's List was based. Nearby was a memorial to
all the Jews who crowded together in what was really
just a vacant lot for up to two weeks waiting for
transport to Auschwitz. On the other side of the
city, the large square, one of the largest in Europe,
in the town's center was lovely, however, we were
feeling a bit unnerved. We walked slowly back through
the city, past its massive castle and back to the
hotel, a Sheraton, where we listened to piped in
American music we don't get to hear in England and ate
American food while people watching in the lobby.
This we liked very much.
The next morning we drove through the beautiful but
depressed Polish countryside to Auschwitz and
Birkenau, the place where 1.1 million men, women and
children were put to death. Heavy, dark, emotional. A
17-18 year old boy collapsed and was taken off by
ambulance while we were there. We walked through the
first gas chamber. Saw torture chambers, mounds of
hair, shoes, brushes and kitchen wares that were
collected from the suitcases the Jews brought with
them. In Birkenau, we walked down the unloading ramp,
where the selections took place and down to the gas
chamber where nearly all of the arrivals were sent.
The remains of the gas chambers are still there. The
Germans bombed them before the camp was liberated. It
is no less haunting. We walked through a womens'
barracks. They smelled.
In spite of all the deep emotion and the unnerving hush, there was not an
oppressive energy. There are amazing stories of hope
and survival in all the death camps. One of my
favorite songs plays like background music when I
think about the determination of the survivors. Nina
Simone's old song, I Got No-I Got Life is the kind of
song you'd order up if you knew you were going to be
deserted on an island and were only allowed five items
to bring along. (If you're curious, I'd grab that
life size poster of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack
Sparrow that I keep meaning to buy and maybe a few
REALLY large gin and tonics). I love the way Nina
belts out that song, finding reasons to carry on when
there are none. It now reminds me, in a good way, of
the survivors. And, while I have had nightmares every
night since I've been to Auschwitz, (M and
S have not) I am convinced that nightmares of
this sort are good. I have walked through the remains
of evil. It should be disturbing. I also do like to
think about those who, for what ever reason, made it
out of there alive. Each of their stories are
horrific and glorious at the same time.
I never intend to go back. J will take R when
R is ready to make the trip, although, J, seeing
how affected we were isn't in a hurry. We'll be
safely tucked back into the USA before A reaches
an age to go. Nonetheless, it is our great fortune to
have that sort of history just a short plane ride
away.
With love from England,
T-Ann