I’m a few hours away from setting out on an Air France flight via Paris to Warsaw. I’m an anxious traveller, an even more anxious flier. Yet as I prepare to embark on this journey of discovery, perhaps self-discovery, I am more nervous than usual. In my mind I know I will be seeing things I don’t want to see. I’ve seen pictures and read descriptions on the enormity of Auschwitz and Berkenau, both physically and emotionally, and the thought of actually being there frightens me. I am preparing to visit Zambrow, the town where my ancestors are from, and I know that I will find no trace of their lives. It’s a journey that I feel I must do and yet, at the same time, I feel a sense of repulsion at what I will find and experience.

My goal is to step back and, as much as possible, adopt a stance of observer and historian. I will discover soon enough how successful I can be in maintaing this position.