(I wrote this a week ago, but didn't get it posted because of internet problems. Some photos from Krakow and stories from the last week will come soon).
I have been in Krakow for a week now and had only two rain-free days. It's much harder to explore the city because of the rain and cold, but also feels very appropriate for the location--somehow bright and sunny don't immediately make me think about Poland. Luckily, Polish food is perfect for these rainy days and 50 degree weather and I have been enjoying peirogis and borscht. There are these great places in the city called Milk Bars (or bar mleczny), which are really inexpensive restaurants left over from communism. Speaking of communism, the 20th anniversary of the founding of Solidarity, the Polish trade union that brought freedom from communism to Poland in 1989, is going on now and there have been lots of big bands playing in the square wearing goofy outfits and hats with big, red feathers.
I have been in Krakow for a week now and had only two rain-free days. It's much harder to explore the city because of the rain and cold, but also feels very appropriate for the location--somehow bright and sunny don't immediately make me think about Poland. Luckily, Polish food is perfect for these rainy days and 50 degree weather and I have been enjoying peirogis and borscht. There are these great places in the city called Milk Bars (or bar mleczny), which are really inexpensive restaurants left over from communism. Speaking of communism, the 20th anniversary of the founding of Solidarity, the Polish trade union that brought freedom from communism to Poland in 1989, is going on now and there have been lots of big bands playing in the square wearing goofy outfits and hats with big, red feathers.
Despite the rain, I have been enjoying the city a lot. It is easy to navigate and small enough to walk most places. We are located right outside the city center, which makes it very is to run into town for meals. The dorm in Granada didn't have a kitchen so living in apartments was highly anticipated, but everything is so inexpensive here and Poland isn't on the Euro so the exchange rate is fantastic, so it's much more reasonable to eat out. Not only is the food less expensive, but even the non-Polish food is delicious. There are a lot of vegetarian restaurants as well (again, it has to do with meat rationing during communism), which was surprising but very welcome since the food is extremely well prepared and seasoned and served very hot and fresh (reason #43 why Krakow is the perfect European vacation destination for the extended Barcus family, the Jewish district being #42). Even though this post would suggest otherwise, I have also done things besides eat in Krakow. We have had some really interesting lectures from locals, including one about gender in art before and after communism, one on domestic violence, and another on Jewish life in Poland. Tomorrow we are hearing about LGBT issues, which should be really interesting because Poland tends to be pretty homophobic in general (the 95% of the population identifying as Catholic doesn't do big things for gay rights movements).
Last Friday was a really long day. My group took a trip to Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II-Birkenau. The whole time it all felt very surreal and all too real at the same time. No matter how much we learn about the Holocaust in middle school, there is just no way to be sufficiently prepared for the experience of standing in the middle of a gas chamber. The sadness that fills the room was overwhelmingly present and is so far removed from the staggering statistical accounts; the heavy weight of grief and mourning just sits in the walls and in the air. A lot of the group very much felt like it was too much, some were very surprised by the intensity of the feelings they experienced, and a large number were also very ready to leave for good by the end of the day. As hard and tiring as the day was, I can't say that I had the same experience. I would want to go back tomorrow or even within the next few years, but I can imagine going again. It seems like such an important way to recognize the horrific past and join in the grieving.
Hands down the most important part of the day for me came at the end. After our tour guide left us to have some time at Birkenau, I sat by the memorial that was built in the 1960s that is situated at the back end of the camp. There was a group of a Israeli women standing in a circle in front of the memorial. Simply sitting by the circle was a moment of solace. The women were being lead by three male cantors. I do not have a strong sense of my own place within the Jewish religion, instead I find my Jewish identity much more within the cultural and in relation to others. Because of this, much of the day for me was spent thinking about my position in the camps. The sight of the cantor's yarmulkes, brown beards, and rounded bellies grounded and comforted me and I felt very present and positioned. I sat watching this group for about five minutes the cantor with a guitar began leading the women in song. I sat on the stoop of the memorial, in between two gas chambers that were destroyed by the Nazi's four days before the liberation of camp, facing the barracks, some still in tact and some with only the brick chimneys left. After a few minutes, the lead cantor lead the group out of the circle formation and they walked in a line down the train tracks that divide the women and men's side and were the tracks that shepherded in the train cars full of people. As they walked down the tracks, the melody of their song and poetry of the Hebrew words grew more and more distant until all that was left was the sight of this line of people.
Hands down the most important part of the day for me came at the end. After our tour guide left us to have some time at Birkenau, I sat by the memorial that was built in the 1960s that is situated at the back end of the camp. There was a group of a Israeli women standing in a circle in front of the memorial. Simply sitting by the circle was a moment of solace. The women were being lead by three male cantors. I do not have a strong sense of my own place within the Jewish religion, instead I find my Jewish identity much more within the cultural and in relation to others. Because of this, much of the day for me was spent thinking about my position in the camps. The sight of the cantor's yarmulkes, brown beards, and rounded bellies grounded and comforted me and I felt very present and positioned. I sat watching this group for about five minutes the cantor with a guitar began leading the women in song. I sat on the stoop of the memorial, in between two gas chambers that were destroyed by the Nazi's four days before the liberation of camp, facing the barracks, some still in tact and some with only the brick chimneys left. After a few minutes, the lead cantor lead the group out of the circle formation and they walked in a line down the train tracks that divide the women and men's side and were the tracks that shepherded in the train cars full of people. As they walked down the tracks, the melody of their song and poetry of the Hebrew words grew more and more distant until all that was left was the sight of this line of people.
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