Pierogies and Piwo in Poland (Part I)

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Last Friday was the beginning of the second of the big trips my school here organizes--to Krakow, Poland! I'll be honest, when I first came to Central Europe, Poland was not on my list of places to visit. I thought of it as left over from the Soviet era, gray, cloudy, and filled with yet another language I don't understand. But then the Polish exchange students gave a presentation about their country, and as with every other country I've seen presented so far, I became much more interested in it. The only thing that was holding me back was that this trip would go to Auschwitz and Birkenau, places I wasn't sure if I could take. In the end, though, I decided to go. Many Czechs were saying what a nice city Krakow is, and of course, I could have some authentic pierogies!

Warning: if you're not feeling like getting into a depressed mood right now, skip to Part II (which may or may not be existent right now). Growing up, I read many books about the Holocaust, watched movies about Anne Frank, and even heard two survivors speak. And yet, I didn't know how I would feel going to a concentration camp, especially one where one million people died, where their bodies were burned ,and their ashes used as fertilizer. Would I be overcome with grief and launch into uncontrollable sobbing? Would it not be so shocking, as I felt well-informed already? Or would I feel really awful because I would not be able to imagine so much suffering in a place that is now filled with green grass and loud high-school students? None of those options appealed to me, but I thought it would be important to go there when I have the opportunity to.

I took no pictures at Auschwitz or at Birkenau. I felt like it would be one of the most inappropriate things to do. Pictures are for tourism, and a place of death for 1 million people does not seem like a place one should be a tourist in. Unfortunately other people had different opinions, some even posing for pictures there. If you want to see pictures, they are readily available online, and make sure to look at both past and present views. I'm kind of bs-ing this for a while until I figure out exactly what I want to write. It was a difficult place, and I think that's a great understatement, but I don't know how else to phrase it.

We went there before Krakow. Our bus went through the town of Oświęcim (which is called Auschwitz in German), past some houses, and the bus turned down a street. I thought, there's no way we could be there already. But we were. It's considered to be 3 km outside of town, but it was certainly closer than that. I could not believe their audacity to place something like that so close to a place where the common population lives. It was a beautiful day with blue skies, and our first in a while when it was pleasant to be in the sun. Our tour guide was a woman in her fifties who had a very frank way of speaking, almost, though, with drama for shock-value, which got on my nerves a little. But on the other hand, how should one behave when giving a tour there? I cannot imagine having that job. Being confronted every day with how bad people can be would not be possible for me.

Our tour began in Auschwitz I, the first and main camp, which is right outside the town. This is the camp that has the gate that says, "Work sets you free" in German. Almost all of the buildings still exist, and the insides have been turned into museum-like exhibitions. I was really okay for the first part of the tour. I did have trouble imagining this as the place I had read so much about--things didn't seem so huge or spread out, and there were trees and grass growing. The road where daily roll-call took place was narrow; I had imagined it as an open dirt lot. After a while, my head started to get numb. I could only look at things. I didn't really hear very much of what she was saying and there is no way I could have had a conversation with anyone. And then we went in buildings titled something like "Evidence of Looting" or something like that. And that was the beginning of my downfall. There were rooms with walls running all along them, with windows. And these cases were filled up with people's former possessions: glasses, brushes, combs, luggage. One was full of hair. And no, this isn't like just a typical 3 x 5 x 2 case. This is equivalent to the size of my living room, and piled as high as my father is tall. The guide said it was 2 tons of hair, human hair. Prisoners were forced to shave other prisoners' heads when they entered and when they were killed (if, in the 25% (for Jews at least) chance those weren't at the same time), and this hair was shipped for German industries to use. So the hair that I saw was the tip of the iceberg. That was pretty bad, and I'm not trying to make this funny or sarcastic. We left that building and as we went the guide told a story about a couple who fell in love in camp, escaped and lived for 3 weeks in hiding, but then were found and executed in (different parts of) camp at the same time. But she was saying it was a happy story, as they had 3 weeks together away from the camp, and that's when I started to have feeling. The guide led us to another building. This was similar to the last, but with shoes. And it was a case on both sides. All kinds of shoes, big and small, you can tell that they were well-worn. And again, these have to be just a small percentage because most everything was stolen from prisoners and given to people aligned with Nazis, and these must just be what they had at the end. I was getting choked up, and I was in the beginning of the line, so once I got outside I had to compose myself. I was really surprised at how few other people were visibly upset, though.

Then we walked to the gas chamber/incinerator. I was pretty numb at this point and not really paying attention, so I don't really have much to say about that. That was the end of the first part, of Auschwitz I. I walked to the bus by myself. I had a splitting headache and I just had a blank mind from emotional stress overload. We were going to Birkenau, which is considered more of an extermination camp, and it was built later than the main camp and only a few miles away. I wasn't even sure if I could take any more, but that part of the tour was supposed to be only a half-hour. Birkenau is the camp where, in Schindler's List, the train of Schindler's female and children 'workers' arrives. Most of it is destroyed, though. And again, unfortunately, I could not really pay attention to what she was saying. The tour finished, and then we left, in our double-decker bus, on our way to Krakow. The bus pulled away, with students suddenly feeling very hungry, and starting to lunch. I couldn't eat anything.

The sickly ironic thing of it all is that many people say these places are preserved so that future generations will learn and so history won't repeat itself. Unfortunately, though, it does. Let's not pretend the Holocaust was the last tragedy of the world. Although so much effort has been put into remembering it (justifiably), all that time, people were being tortured and killed all over the world. Perhaps in not such a systematic way, but it endures. And usually the world hums to itself and hopes problems will end before they get so bad that people can't stay complacent any longer. Please, open your eyes, ears, and then your mouths.

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Comments

[Lori]

No photos at camps
I agree with you very much about not taking photos. I've visited these camps twice. Both time they felt to me like one of the holiest places on earth, and a place that must be respected and not defiled in some manner such as trashy photos.