Yesterday I went to Auschwitz. I didn’t sleep too well the night before. I knew I’d be overwhelmed. Sleeping pills helped a little. How do you prepare yourself emotionally to visit a place where over a million people were murdered? I’ve read many books about the Holocaust. I know the story. But that’s not the same as being there.
Our driver was to pick us up at 2:30 p.m., so my wife and I figured we’d divert ourselves in the morning by taking a walking tour of Krakow’s old town, the old town walls, the castles, the churches. It didn’t work. Our tour guide was very personable; a Ukrainian student displaced by the current fighting with Russia. I could only pay vague attention to what he was explaining. Halfway through the tour, we left, returned to the hotel, ate and awaited our ride.
I also wanted to change my clothes before I left. How does one dress when visiting a mass murder site of one’s people? I choose business casual, slacks, no jeans, a button down short, no t-shirt. (I was better dressed than almost everyone there, most of whom were in sandals and t-shirts and shorts).
Our driver arrived a bit early and we set out on the road from Krakow to the Polish town of Oswiecim. It’s mostly a one lane road that winds its way past small towns and farms. We passed plenty of churches and roadside shrines. At some point it became wooded, and I wondered whether Jews could have hid out in this landscape but concluded it wasn’t secluded enough. After about an hour and a quarter, we entered Oswiecim, with its typical commercial fare: McDonald’s, KFC, H & M.
A few minutes later we got to the parking lot. There was still no sign that we’d arrived at a mass murder site. There were lots of buses and cars and people milling around. We could have been at any park anywhere in the world.
We had to wait around till 4:00 for that is when our entry passes were for. There was a sign, groups to the left, individuals to the right (is it people to the left and others to the right. (Apparently they have no sense of the irony of these kinds of signs.)
As we entered, we looked for what was supposed to be a group tour in English. There was none. We were on our own. We began to wander. Finally, I figured out that this was a “museum.” Some of the blocks were prisoners had been “housed” had been turned into galleries. We began to wander. In my next post, some of what I found.