Krakow

I spent all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Krakow, Poland. Getting there and going back were stories in themselves. What a fantastic weekend. The best way I can handle describing it is just by jumping into Part I.

Part I: A brief summary of convincing reasons to reside permanently in Krakow

1. This is the square where my hotel was located. This picture sums up my Polish experience for me: visually rich, hearty (notice the depiction of plump soldiers who clearly must have been as full of Polish dumplings, or pierogi, as I was one night when I foolishly asked a Polish waitress what would be the most food), and full of pride over a history of names that I will never remember let alone be able to pronounce.

2. Honestly, this really might be the most compelling reason. The above cake is a cherry / chocolate layer cake with full (possibly black) cherries in it. It ranks among the best chocolate treats I've ever had. The combination of that cake with espresso cost me the equivalent of 2.40 U.S. dollars.

3. Krakow is small, and it is really a home. This market is just down the street from the square pictured above, which itself is only a 5-10 minute walk from the heart of the city. Hundreds of people were buying fresh fruits, vegetables, and all types of meat from (I assume) local farmers / vendors. It really felt neat to be among them.

Part II: The main reason I went to Krakow

It was a very pretty day on Friday when I went to see Auschwitz-Birkenau, the well-known combination of concentration camp and death camp to which nazi prisoners were sent in World War II. I didn't know what to expect. Perhaps some people go because they want the reminder of what happened. Perhaps some people want to feel something specific. I think I went because I wanted to say I'd been there--not just from a touristy perspective, but I guess maybe in some way to be able to lay a legitimate claim to my own personal connection to the place. I've studied the Holocaust, I've been to the museum in D.C. several times, and I've run through most of the emotions I'm capable of having about the idea of what happened. In light of my background with the subject, my visit became more about what it means to visit than a reconnection with the story itself.

Don't get me wrong--it's not easy to visit the place. But my thoughts were with the contrast between the horror of what happened and the visual of present-day visitors. The above picture is not an upscale townhome complex--it's Auschwitz I, the converted Polish military barracks that originally housed nazi prisoners until many were moved to Birkenau (Auschwitz II) later in WWII. It is noteworthy that these prisoners were largely Polish political prisoners at first and that Jews started to comprise the majority of the population there later.

This man was our guide--a man who had obviously done this many, many times. Not only was he knowledgeable, but it seemed as though he'd found an impossible emotional balance between delivering the same depressing information over and over yet not disconnecting himself from it--and instead delivering it with just enough personal sadness to invite the group to participate in it with him. The diagram he is presenting belongs to Block 11, the infamous prison block in Auschwitz I. In addition to a starvation chamber and a standing-chamber (where prisoners were forced to stand the entire night in cramped quarters before working all the next day, for days on end), the basement housed the first trials of execution by gas at Auschwitz.

It was odd to move freely and without mention through a hole in these fences as our tour moved from one location to another.

This is the main gate to Birkenau, the massive expansion of the Auschwitz camp (located some 3 km away) that provides the normal picture of "Auschwitz" that people think of.

These train tracks were designed to maximize efficiency in transporting prisoners--they run straight to the middle of the camp. In the foreground is a makeshift memorial.

Traveling with a group was interesting. I found myself getting annoyed at inopportune laughter, inopportune conversation in general, and even emotion when it seemed like people were trying to squeeze sadness out of their visit in order to make it what they wanted it to be. But, if I can't control that kind of impulse on a trip whose primary message is "we are all people who must live together," then I'm in real trouble. All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit there. I think it accomplished the vague goal that I had in mind.

Part III: Quirks of the city that don't necessarily qualify as primary reasons to establish permanent residence

I visited the castle on Saturday morning--Krakow is the historic capital of Poland, where all the old kings lived. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the castle, so I mainly just have some nice shots of the courtyard. There were lots of fancy tapestries, medieval weapons, and tombs of important Polish kings. I think the one bit of history that stuck with me after 3 hours of saturation was that Polish kings have a knack for stopping Turkish invasion at a point when it really matters. It sounded like something to be proud about.

Later that day, I went to one of the coolest places I've ever been--the salt mine at Wieliczka, a nearby town. Formed by the evaporation of water from trapped underground saltwater lakes over millions of years, this pure rock-salt formation is one of only a handful of such mines in the world. 140 meters under the ground at some points, I was able to verify for myself that the walls were indeed made of salt. I just made sure to sample the parts that shorter people couldn't reach, just in case the salt didn't kill all the bacteria. The above picture is a set of mannequins that is supposed to depict the first public visitors to the mine--the guide joked that they actually were visitors who got lost in the mine but that the salt preserved them for a hundred years. He wasn't completely joking about the preservation effect--there were original wooden carvings from the 1600's in the mine that haven't lost their paint.

The "miners" in the mine don't extract salt anymore--the mine stopped actively producing a few years ago. Now, they mostly carve artwork within the mine for the public to enjoy. This is a really fantastic copy of The Last Supper--it's only a few inches deep.

The main "market square." I find this square much more appealing than the main square in Prague, even though there were probably twice or three times as many tourists here during peak hours.

Some entertainment in the market square--this is the grand finale of the performance. He had been going for quite a few seconds before I started the film.

For all you public affairs fans out there: I was so impressed by this display sponsored by the local government--it had descriptions of revenues and outlays over time and in different sectors. Each panel after the first few summary panels had more descriptive information about each sector of spending. People really did stop to read them--it was in a pretty central location in the city park, and even I, a non-resident, felt engaged.

This is a synagogue from the 1600's, located in the historic Jewish district of Kazimierz. The nazis burned the synagogue's Torah and painted over these frescoes when they took control of the territory. Historians had to wait until the end of communist rule to begin the process of recovering whatever they could.

Part IV: The part that makes me want to title this entire post: "Two train trips with a city in between"

On the way to Krakow, there was a big mix-up with the trains going to Poland. It seemed like all of Eastern Europe was flooded that Thursday, and many trains were having a hard time going their normal routes. I heard English voices confused, like I was, about where to find a specific car on a new train that pulled up. I joined them in their quest to find it, and ultimately we sat together and bonded a bit. I found out that they were from Texas, on a family vacation to Eastern Europe. We made plans to get dinner before we all left on Sunday night, and wouldn't you know it, we had the exact same train car on the way out of Krakow, too. They were great folks to spend time with, and they made the 6-hour-turned-12-hour trip to Krakow far more than tolerable. There's a sneak peak at some Russian pierogi in the bottom left corner.

Speaking of Russians, I shared the sleeper cabin with a really nice one on the way back to Bratislava. He is from Kamchatka, a territory I know only from playing the board game Risk. He invited me to come stay at his place sometime, and I felt honored--until he told me that he invites everyone he meets on his travels with the safe assumption that no one will ever go that far into northeast Russia. I have half a mind to surprise him one day and just go there.

This past weekend was super tiring. Waking up on a train is a lot of fun, especially when the sun has just risen and the wind is blowing through the window. Staying awake the whole day after that moment is not quite as fun. I'm looking forward to Budapest this upcoming weekend--I will be traveling with Monika, my colleague from UGA who arrived at the office a week ago.

Always a reason to celebrate

Party in the streets

When you walk the streets of Bratislava enough in your spare time, you start to realize: people here like music, a lot. It seems like there is always a music festival going on. Usually, the festival consists of a seemingly impromptu crowd gathering around a random corner of the city center.

Here is a slightly more organized concert, with string instruments and even chairs! The big music festivals are the ones that they really do right--like "Pohoda," the one that my organization is attending the last weekend I am in town. It's an intense 3 or 4-day festival with nearly non-stop music. We will be advertising the League's activities there...buying publicity with a little lost sleep.

Party on the beach

I didn't know Bratislava had a beach! Apparently it does, during the summer. This is "T-Com Fiesta Beach," a corporate-sponsored family fun zone with playgrounds, beach volleyball courts, and a really swell view of the Danube. I went with Katka F. and Zuzka S. to see the beach before the Austrian night of fun described below.

If you just don't look at the concrete footpaths surrounding the beach area, then it's better than Cancun.

Ever signed a yearbook? If so, then this is for you. I found this at the beach--I did a google search, and HAGS is a playground equipment company. Imagine that.

Party with the Austrians

A bunch of us from the League met up Friday night with Hans, Benjamin, and Christian--three Austrian guys who formerly worked with issues surrounding refugee law and who bonded with each other in the process. They were fun guys, and I almost regret leaving the group early at around 3 am.

Before everyone went out, we had dinner. I should note that I really dislike flash photography--I'd rather eat something really gross than ever take a picture with flash. Unfortunately, the opposite happened here. Since I was so hungry, I figured I'd order the one available soup, which happened to have pieces of pig stomach in it. I was doing fine with it until everyone started talking about how gross it was. At that point, I figured I would have plenty to eat if I just focused on the massive pig's knee that a bunch of us shared.

A quieter celebration

Katka and Zuzka told me that this is their favorite street in all Bratislava. With the limited traveling I have done in the city, I can safely agree. We all like it for the same reason--it is almost dead quiet, and there are rarely other people on it. These buildings are mostly either abandoned or property of the church. Some nearby buildings are in a lot worse condition, as they were centrally-owned buildings during communist rule that never returned to their owners (for whatever reason) after 1989. It's quite nice just to be there.

One of Zuzka's clients was very recently granted asylum--the fullest protection that Slovakia can initially offer to a foreign national seeking refuge. Within as few as five years, he could become a Slovak national. Already, though, he has the right to travel throughout the EU as a permanent resident of Slovakia. Apparently, he is a lucky guy--he didn't suffer from much harm while he was in his home country, but he had good reasons why he couldn't go back. Zuzka and a UNHCR representative told me that his case is the picture-perfect example of how the asylum process should work.

His good friend, to whom I have talked several times because I helped do research for his case, only received subsidiary protection (the lower, temporary form of protection that could be revoked after a year). He actually did undergo abusive interrogation in his home country, and he also had a consistent, compelling story as to why he could not return. The lawyers told me that this decision, handed down within a week or so of his friend's, represented the opposite of how the asylum process should work. It's still technically a victory, but it's less than he deserved.

I haven't gotten bored at all with this city. It's nice to walk down quiet streets as well as to see concerts springing up everywhere out of the cobblestone, but what really makes my stay worthwhile is the group of fantastic people who care about each other and their work. I've been told I should stay longer than 2 months, and if it weren't for, I dunno, life back home, I'd be tempted.

A relic of communist rule

I'm getting tired of putting asterisks by names of my posts.  This post would have had one, but I've lost the taste for segregating my posts into two categories.

Today, Katka (a friend from the office) took me to see the Slavin memorial, a cemetery and memorial for Soviet soldiers from World War II.  

She told me that the capital city of every country in the former Eastern Bloc had a statute such as this one, though I don't know the details on all the similarities.  On the walls of the monument behind those columns are the names of each Slovak city taken by the Soviets in World War II along with the date that each was taken.

Bratislava: captured on April 4th, 1945 (only a month or so before the end of the war, the date of which I had to google).  Of course, it then became a stone's throw from the Iron Curtain.

Apparently there are 6850 soldiers buried in what appeared to be a fairly small complex atop the hill.  As Katka pointed out, it was unusual to see the same date on every grave in a cemetery.

The Eastern Orthodox cross--also the national symbol of Slovakia, which is depicted on its flag.  This cross first graced the complex only after communist rule ended.  The northern part of the city is pictured in the background, with the inverse-pyramid-shaped radio building and the tall national bank building pictured on the right.

From the top of the hill, the Slavin looks out over another building, too: the White House!  This building is a mysterious auxiliary "residence" belonging to the U.S. Embassy, located just a few hundred feet down the hill from the monument.  I wanted to go inside for a tour but I couldn't find a doorbell.  I really, really hope that the embassy's Fourth of July party will be here (and open to American citizens), but I don't want to get my hopes up.

I will be in Trnava again this weekend hanging out with the folks from France as well as Peter, Sylvia, and probably some new Slovak ladies and gents.  There is a sort of weekend festival going on, and in order to survive I'm going to pack light (stuff my pockets) and hope to make it back to Bratislava on Sunday afternoon.  With that, I will leave my sunset calling card, this time taken on the way down the hill from the Slavin:

From Rohovce to Prague in 7 hours flat

Rohovce

I don't think the two places that I visited this weekend could have been much more different. My first stop was Rohovce, a quiet village in Slovakia that lies not far southeast of Bratislava. It is the site of one of the local refugee camps, where many of the Human Rights League's clients stay.

In Rohovce, the Human Rights League organized a Day of Slovak Culture for refugees and unaccompanied minors in the nearby camps. Several traditional Slovak craftsmen and craftswomen came to show them (as well as staff from the League and the camps) how to weave baskets, carve wood, paint glass, and make wire sculptures. Later (after I left), there was apparently some pretty awesome traditional Slovak dancing.

There were probably over 40 refugees or unaccompanied minors in attendance, and I hung out with some of them for a little bit. Some of their countries of origin included Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Algeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. It was an opportunity to hear more stories and to see camaraderie between people connected by a similar need.

Going into the event, I didn't think that "arts and crafts" in a remote location would interest the youths very much. I later recalled that the director of the home for unaccompanied minors only let the guys leave the premises to go into the city once a week--and even then only if their social worker was available to accompany them. All in all, an activity-filled day in a new place is not so bad.

The day was also a good opportunity for the League's staff to do something other than legal work. Next to me in the above picture are four of the women who work at the office, and they were just as glad as I was to have rotisserie chicken and bread for lunch. We didn't know what we were going to find to eat in Rohovce. With or without food, though, it was a lot of fun to be there.

Aside from the drama at the beginning of my trip (a Turkish woman asked very urgently if she could sit with me because she was scared of the dangerous man who was following her and subsequently visited her in what looked like a drunken stupor while she was sitting with me), I loved my train rides to and from Prague. I picked another picture with an "arbitrary sunset" to represent how relaxing it is to watch the countryside go by.

The Prague Photojournal

I'd like to share some of the highlight pictures from my weekend in Prague much like I did for my trip to Vienna. As I expected, I was a little less frantic of a tourist this weekend because I met up with Maggie (whom I know from school) and her friend Kristine.

A lot of people right by a cathedral in a big square with historic buildings--a familiar sight. Prague struck me as not too different from Vienna in its feel for that reason, although Prague is smaller and it seemed like the proportion of tourists was higher.

This is the philharmonica where I saw a chamber orchestra concert with Maggie and Kristine. I again heard one of the songs that the quartet played in Vienna (and the concert had a number of recognizable classics such as Canon in D), but some things are worth repeating. What made it unique was the mix of Hungarian and Slavic dance compositions that they played along with the well-known stuff.

I went to Prague Castle and shot a crossbow. I felt like a medieval James Bond.

Inside the castle grounds. On the left is St. Vitus's cathedral--the largest in Prague, with an usually large amount of gold plating. On the right is what you might call the executive office building of the government. The President actually lives within the castle grounds. All told, I guess that means that the little bridge in the middle of the picture is the extent of separation between church and state. I crack myself up.

This is the Lenin wall, where restless Czechs wrote pro-democratic slogans and lyrics during communist rule. Featured predominantly on the wall are lyrics and images related to the Beatles, whose music was banned at the time.

If you're in love, you and your co-conspirator can come to this bridge, put a lock on it, and throw the key away. Depending on your style, you can attach one of a variety of locks. Hope it works out for you.

Quite a statement.

This is part of the cemetery in the Jewish district in Prague. nazis left most of the district completely undisturbed because they intended it to become a relic of an "extinct race." This cemetery has about 20,000 individuals buried in it. Due to space constraints, they are stacked on top of each other, sometimes as many as 11 times.

Me with Maggie and Kristine! It was nice to travel with friendly people who could balance taking in all the sights with taking a break just to chill and talk. They are off to Berlin now, and I am back in Bratislava (a phrase that is hard for me to comprehend--even after coming back from Vienna, I can't yet fathom returning to a home base that was itself an exotic destination 3 weeks ago).

I don't think I can do 3 big city trips 3 weekends in a row. I think I'm going to stay in Bratislava this upcoming weekend, which means I'll see my new friends from France and hopefully get a breather before I start to prepare my trip to Krakow and Auschwitz in a couple weeks.

Learning how to read*

Pictured above is one of my favorite venues for my tentative new hobby: reading.  The people who work at those cafes have been very accommodating of it.  It's almost as though they dislike giving you the check before 30 minutes after you've ordered your coffee.

I just finished 1984 by George Orwell, and it was the first time in a long time that I didn't get caught up in counting page numbers or checking the clock while reading.  But I don't want to get too excited about that.  In the film Gladiator's foundational historical portrayal of Ancient Rome, Marcus Aurelius says something very profound to Maximus that I think applies to any idea worth working toward: "There was a dream that was Rome.  You could only whisper it.  Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish, it was so fragile."  We shall see how things go, but so far, it's been nice to lose myself a little in something worth my time.

Both of these pictures were taken in the historic city center, where all the tourists hang out.  You can see that for the English-speaking weekend traveler, the city is pretty friendly.  It's when you stay here for longer than a few days that it behooves you to begin to try harder.

Today I went to court at the city's Justice Palace with two people from my office in order to hear the asylum judge's decision on the case of the Afghan man whose interview I heard (but didn't understand) a few days ago.  Again, even though I didn't understand the words themselves, it was clear that he brought conviction to the presentation of his evidence, among which I saw horrific pictures and written threats.

His appeal even for subsidiary protection (a status lower than asylum) was denied.  Although there is still recourse with the Supreme Court, his sister was really torn up about the decision and was crying and yelling even before she had left the courtroom.  Word on the street was that the judge was generally pretty incompetent but that there was very little that anyone could do--Slovakia is a relatively new country with fledgling government institutions, and if you're friends with the people who matter then it's hard for anyone to point fingers at you.

Afterwards, it was hard to know what facial expression to wear when I shook the Afghan man's hand and gave him the standard coming-or-going salutation that literally translates to "good day."  Surrounded by a language I can't speak, I find myself obligated to "read" the people around me and to understand my social responsibilities anyway.