Outing to Auschwitz
Inside…
Outing to Auschwitz. It was long overdue.
After Berlin I still had to visit Poland. Finding the solution from start to finish in one trip.
Lots of decisions. Krakow, I take the train. Back in Berlin I was told to heil a cab – though other menschen prefer Uber. Let’s go for a return ticket to stay on the safe side. Sweltering hot and already sweaty. Not showering and/or complaining.
Arrive at the platform. I’ll take a taxi, don't feel like marching to the camp. Decide to arrive in style! This time with a head up high and kipa! The driver is very serious. Was this a bad idea after all?!
Arrival.
Pay. Yes, I must pay for this fun! Consider waving a laundry list of names but give it a miss.
People laughing/queuing up to get in.
All’s so efficient– plus ca change…
Kids using Facebook – gotta stay connected/holidays are for fun!
Shake my head. Look down to the ground.
Get my notebook out. Bit dizzy. Must put this somewhere.
Everyone gets a sticker. Mine is yellow. How appropriate. Would have preferred the VIP tour with Israelis or schoolgirls with long skirts. Don’t want to hear facts and numbers better holding on together. Alas, where did they all go?!
Keeping it inside, but when we get to Birkenau it comes to an end, even my blond compatriot together with his old mother could no longer hold it. They had gone out for dinner in Krakow the night before and then had a good swim in the luxury hotel in the morning. But then came the showers and the details. No toilets and sleeping with 20 other people on triple bunk beds has side effects. Finally, we bow our heads in incomprehension and release those tears - together. The old mother tells me that sometimes she wondered whether Dutch Memorial Day is still needed, but now she knows! When sharing, I get a hug but too late. Too late for me and especially them.
…Out
Back to reality. Standing on a deserted parking lot. Waiting patiently for the bus to come pick me up from hell-on-earth.
Looking up, the blue sky must have been the sign of freedom to the prisoners right above (you up there know I came here for you!).
Will these barrack experiences last for this coterie of Swedish pointy-bearded punks, German Hells Angels and Dutch WASPs? Maybe a quick message of shock to the home front or straight back to a jazz night in Krakow?
The bus glides through the movie landscapes. I stare out of the window: Lovely houses next to Auschwitz – must be a quiet place to live! Streams swirl that once carried ashes.
My thoughts wonder off to Israel. Glad to go back to that crazy place in a few hours. Globally, new extremists are back. From the many stickers, signs, silences and remarks on my recent European trips it is clear: the lessons have been forgotten.
Don’t straight-talk evil. Don’t speak out when you know too little. And don’t give us a hug when it’s too late.
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