Ostatni dzień w Krakowie! (Last day in Krakow!)

I am currently sitting at this incredible hole-in-the-wall place off Kraków’s Rynek called Gospoda “Koko,” which reminds me of a tiny farmhouse kitchen. Love! I spent about half an hour searching for the perfect place to have pierogi, piwo, and a place comfortable enough for me to blog, since this is my last evening in Poland. (Jestem bardzo smutna.*tear). Today I quickly realized, that although I love exploring on my own (Sidenote: I went to the Wawel Cathedral for the first time—sadly, no pictures were allowed—and it was probably one of the most magnificent churches I have seen. I was also able to visit the crypt and see where Queen Jagiełła, King Jan III Sobieksi, Tadeusz Kosciusko, Józef Piłsudski, Władysław Sikorski, and many other famous Poles are buried), it is difficult when finding places to eat. I quickly realized how awkward it was at the restaurant for lunch waiting for my food with nothing to do, so I have brought my computer to dinner (which I realize makes me look doubly lame—dateless and typing at a restaurant, but I must see it as accomplishing work, eating, and not awkwardly catching the eyes of those I was people-watching, cough cough, which did happen at lunch :/). Returning to the fellowship program, Tuesday (July 10) was our last full day in Kraków and its environs. We began the morning at the Jagiellonian University’s Center for Jewish Studies in Kazimierz. Professor Michał Gałas provided the first lecture entitled, “Jewish Culture and Religion in Poland,” which detailed Jewish history in Poland since the turn of the 13^th century until the Holocaust. Professor Edyta Gawron, who, in addition to being a Professor of Jewish Studies at the Jagiellonian, was also one of the main contributors to the Museum of the Nazi occupation of Krakow on site of the former Schindler Factory, continued the discussion (“Jews in contemporary Poland”) with a fascinating presentation on Jews in Poland after the Holocaust, the pogroms, the waves of emigration, the antisemitic campaign of 1968, Solidarity, the imposition of martial law in 1981 until the fall of Communism, and concluded by describing communities which have begun to be openly Jewish again.

In the afternoon, we were to meet with Uwe and Gabi van Seltmann, authors of the recently published book, My Grandfather was Killed at Auschwitz, Mine was a Nazi. They were late to our meeting because they had to testify at the police station as witnesses to antisemitic remarks that were made at a restaurant Saturday night (the last night of the Jewish Cultural Festival!­­­­) in Kazimierz. Although rare (especially in this ‘Jewish’ district), antisemitic behavior sadly still exists, and we know from news the world over, it is not limited to Poland. Although they had less time to present because of the unfortunate incident, their presentation was profoundly impactful. Uwe's grandfather, Lothar von Seltmann, was an SS-man in Kraków during World War II, while Gabriela's grandfather Michał Pazdanowski was murdered at Auschwitz. Uwe and Gabriela met in Kraków, were married, and the search for information regarding their grandparents (especially in Uwe’s case), have caused familial pain and even isolation. For an outsider, to see two people, whose families two generations prior were mortal enemies, research and write a book on their experiences was beyond compelling.

[Quick pause: I am barhopping with my date, aka my computer]

             Ok, I am back. Location: a small outside courtyard, light music, and, despite the smoking clientele, perfect. Back to Tuesday’s activities: We left the Jewish Community Center after our meeting with the van Seltmanns for a 40 minute van ride to the small community of Dolina Będkowska. What came next was a once in a lifetime experience. We were visiting the family home of Janina Rosciszewska, a non-Jewish Pole who was awarded (along with her parents) as Righteous among the Nations by Yad Vashem. 70 years prior, in the very location our meeting was taking place, Janina’s family hid ten Jews this large house nestled in a beautiful green valley. Interestingly, the Rosciszewski’s were not the only ones hiding Jews in the village; Janina remembered that everyone felt that what they had something in common against the Germans, and that the village actually organized an alert system when the Germans were coming to protect the Jews.  She also recalled that the local priest did not preach antisemitism in church and her father, a social activist and devoted Catholic, was always willing to help those in need.

Janina specifically spoke of the little Jewish boy, Paweł Wagner, whose father was already in Palestine before the war’s outbreak and whose mother was taken by the Germans during one of their many round-ups in the village. For the 6-year duration of the war, Paweł grew up with the Rosciszewski family, knowing Janina’s parents as his parents, and Janina as his sister. After the war, Paweł was taken from the family and smuggled to Palestine where he met a father he never knew, was forced to only speak Hebrew, and had to forget about the family he thought was his. Only when Paweł was an adult after his father died, was he given a box that held the remaining mementos of what once belonged to his Polish roots and Polish home. Only then, was he able to reconnect with the Rosciszewskis and help retrieve for them Yad Vashem’s highest honor.

Janina showing our group hand-drawn puppets that her family played with during the war. They were incredible.

Lastly, Janina vividly recalled a small battle that occurred in January 1945 between the Germans and the Russians on opposite hills, her house in the middle. And here I was looking out at these same hills, where this battle once occurred, the forest where they men and boys would run to when the Germans were coming so they would not be taken away for forced labor, from the window in the same living room that hidden Jews once lived… so surreal…

Looking out from Janina's home.

Szydlów, Działoszyce, and Chmielnik

From Kielce we went to Chmielnik, named after Bogdan Chmielniki (Bohdan Khmelnytsky), leader of the Cossacks against the Polish nobles and the Jews in the Chmielniki Rebellion of 1648, which remained the largest revolt against Jews (thousands upon thousands were murdered) in the east Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth and Ukraine until the Holocaust. In 1945, only 33 Jews returned to Chmielnik after the Holocaust (from a pre-war population of several thousand). We went to the Chmielnik Cultural Center where we met with local Jewish-Christian dialogue leaders, and future director of the Świętokrzyski Sztetl project which plans to restore and reopen the town’s synagogue and turn it into a museum detailing Jewish life in Chmielnik. It is costing 11 million złoty to rebuild the synagogue, and while half is EU subsidized funding, the other half was raised by the town itself—a very generous gesture considering the size and poverty level of the town. In addition, everyone we met was incredibly friendly, from asking us to take a picture with them (usually it is the other way around) to providing us with delicious blueberry sweet breads and coffee.

Chmielnik Synagogue, under construction.

Zach and Shelby in front of the Chmielnik Synagogue.

From Chmielnik we made our way to the beautiful walled town of Szydlów and went in a small museum in the space of the old synagogue. It was a very quiet, picturesque town, with initial perceptions altered only when one learns of the deportations of the Jews and the fact that the town neglects to maintain its Jewish history or even mention it on the town website. The last stop of the day was the town of Działoszyce (pronounced Jaow-o-shits-eh). For years the synagogue site went untouched, overgrown with weeds and filled with trash and bottles from local parties. Today the synagogue has been (recently) preserved in its roofless state, the weeds have been removed, and white gravel now blankets the floor. Yet there is no explanation anywhere of what this site is or the lost community who once worshiped in there. Thus after our visit, Tomek and Maciek wrote to the mayor of Działoszyce mentioning the need to a have a sign in front of the synagogue, and offered (on behalf of the Auschwitz Jewish Center) to provide the wording.

Maciek in front of the walled town of Szydlów. Probably my favorite picture of him ;)

Recently cleaned-up synagogue in Działoszyce.

Looking into the former synagogue at  Działoszyce.

And as I realize how I have babbled (beginning with Kielce, as this was originally one massive entry), I will stop for now. Do jutra! (Until tomorrow!)

Kielce

At last! I am back in Kraków, rapidly writing from a quaint café called Charlotte on the Plac Szczpański, recommend by Maciek. It is a drizzly day in the old town, perfect for contemplation, writing, and a kawa z mlekiem (coffee with milk). Although I am excited to begin the ‘vacation’ saga of my journey (I leave for Berlin tomorrow), currently I find myself feeling very alone, and longing for the camaraderie of the group. Although the program’s final day was yesterday, I have at least two weeks of memories and notes to sift through as I (finally) continue to blog.

On Monday (July 9) our group traveled outside the walled city of Kraków to Kielce, Szydlów, Działoszyce, and Chmielnik, where each of us presented on the history of Jewish life in these towns. One of the highlights of the morning was listening to Bogdan Białek, President of the Jan Karski Association (which was founded in 2005 in Kielce) and Vice President of the Polish Council of Jews and Christians. His discussion revolved around the post-war Kielce pogrom of July 1946 where 42 Jews were murdered from the building on Planty 7and the how the pogrom was (not) talked about and remembered. (More recently in 2006, when Jan Gross’s Fear: Antisemitism in Poland after Auschwitz, the Kielce pogrom was at the center of this debate, hitting Poland especially hard with the Polish edition arriving in 2008.)

One of the biggest lessons reiterated thus far on our trip is the overwhelming impact Communist rule had on how the historical reality of the Holocaust, its aftermath, and in this specific case, the Kielce pogrom was altered. Yet even leading up to (and after) 1989, antisemitism was still part of public discourse and both communist nationalists and anti-communists nationalists were antisemitic—seeing Jews as the greatest threat to Polish national identity. In 1990, when Bogdan began researching and writing about the Kielce pogrom, he faced several threatening letters, hate speech directed at him personally, and even was victim to an assassination attempt as a group of local teenagers attempted to throw a grenade into his office. He openly said that many Poles do not see him in a good light because he is not bringing “happy Jewish music” but instead he is the “carrier of bad news.”

Another fascinating discussion—and not limited to Kielce by any means—that came up during our talk was over monuments and memorialization. One monument to the Kielce pogrom, entitled ‘White/Wash’ designed by New York artist Jack Sal, was quite the controversial project. While a very conceptual and meaningful piece, the monument was purposely coated with lime, so every time it rained the people of Kielce would have to clean up the monument and repaint it, so they could never forget Kielce nor repeat the 50 year silence (that occurred after the pogrom) ever again. Yet in Bogdan’s mind, it is not fair to make the people of Kielce today responsible for crimes they technically did not commit. They are responsible for the memory, but should not be subjected to forced feelings of guilt from the outside. Ruth Gruber, author of Virtually Jewish and other influential and informative works on Jews in contemporary Poland (not to be confused with the prolific Ruth Gruber, whose account of 1,000 Jewish refugees placed in a military camp in Oswego), traveled with our group that day, and vehemently disagreed with Bogdan and an argument ensued. (We later found out that she is a friend of Jack Sal.) While it was interesting to hear both sides of the debate, I disliked the way I felt as Ruth (I feel, undeservedly) attacked Bogdan. The atmosphere was awkward as we left—a disappointing note on which to end the presentation because Bogdan truly did a fantastic job.  

White/Wash by Jack Sal.

Memorial at Planty 7: site of Kielce pogrom in July 1946.

There were a few additional items that I want to briefly mention as crucial for my future field. First, is our study of the Holocaust only going to be relegated to the historical events and facts? “Superficially scratching the service,” as Bogdan said? What about the core of the Holocaust? Theologically? Philosophically? Where is our comprehension instead of our knowledge? I feel like there is so much information about the Holocaust that I “know”; but how much do I really understand”? Can we, non-witnesses to what happened, really understand what happened between “Christians” and Jews? (And I wonder if I just placed Christian in quotations just there, to somehow not group myself and my beliefs with those who called themselves Christians and persecuted and killed their Jewish neighbors. Is that the appropriate thing to do? Probably not…)

Second, as a representative of the Catholic community to the Jewish one, Bogdan said that he “is most worried about his fellow Catholics and reconciling them”—that his challenge is the persisting ignorance and antisemitism that still exists in the Church and in the minds of his contemporaries and not on dialoging with Jewish groups. Before we can reconcile different groups, we first have to reconcile within our own ‘group’. There is so much infighting within the Polish Catholic community and within the Jewish community on what happened, how to remember, how to seek forgiveness, and how to forgive that it is extremely difficult (if not impossible) to speak on behalf of Catholics or on behalf of Jews during dialogue efforts.

After our informative visit with Bogdan, we were able to see the Jan Karksi statue in Kielce which, except for a sculpted document and a few bronze leaves places on the statue base, was an exact replica of the Karski statue at Geogetown Univeristy. I could not help but smile, staring at the stoic, yet kind expression molded on Karski’s face, and think about everything that happened this past year with the Karski U.S. Centennial Campaign and the award of the Presidential Medal of Freedom...

Statue of Jan Karski. Kielce, Poland

Jewish Kraków

I have finally found free time to write. Our group is in our van leaving Kraków heading northeast toward Kielce. For miles and miles all we can see is the yellow wheat countryside with pockets of green trees and scattered red-roofed, yellow and white houses.  It truly is a beautiful country. With this time, I will describe and reflect on the activities of the past few days. On Sunday in Kraków, we met with Minna Zielonka Packer, a filmmaker and screenwriter, who produced “Back to Gombin,” a documentary film which described the Holocaust in Gąbin (Yiddish: Gombin), a town that had 2,500 Jews before the war, yet only 210 survived, one of the survivors being Packer’s father.

After our film-screening with Packer and discussion with JCC director Jonathan Ornstein (see previous blog), we had a tour of Kazimierz led by our very own Maciek Zabierowski. Kazimierz was once a separate town, established in 1335 and named after King Casimir the Great, the Polish king who allowed the first Jews to come to Kraków. During the 15^th century, 25 percent of Kraków was Jewish, yet in 1495, the Jews were kicked out of the city (blamed by the Poles for starting a severely destructive fire) and were forced to move to Kazimierz. Today, the district of Kazimierz boasts seven synagogues, the oldest synagogue (“Stara Synagoga”) from early 15^th century. The synagogues survived the Nazi occupation because they were made into warehouses and used by the Nazis. We then visited the Remuh Synagogue, famous for its rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Isserles, who codified the Ashkenazic law in the ha-Mapah. Rabbi Isserles is buried in the cemetery behind the synagogue which was the next part of our journey. Now in Jewish cemeteries, all the men have to have their heads covered—all the women, their shoulders and knees. Of course this was the day I wore shorts and a tank top, so I had two cloths; a pink one to cover my legs, and a silky red one to cover my shoulders. Needless to say, half way through the cemetery, I lost my “skirt” and as I scrambled to pick it up and cover my knees (and not to be sacrilegious) my shoulder covering fell off, rendering me one big, uncovered mess ;). Ok, back to being serious…

The Remuh Synagogue

Of the 60,000 Jews living in Krakow before the war, only 2,000 survived the war, although only a hundred or so Jews live in Kraków today. Yet in multiple spaces there exists traces of Jewish life, from the restored synagogues and faded painted Jewish store names to the empty places in the doorways where the Mezuza, a small rectangular case which holds a small parchment scroll with Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and 11:13-21, once was placed. Deuteronomy 6 was familiar, especially the second sentence which I remember memorizing as a child.“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

The Jewish cemetery behind the Remuh synagogue.

            Also located in the formerly Jewish Kazimierz is St. Catherine’s Church (Koscióla St. Katarzyny) of the Augustinian order, which is one of the oldest monasteries in Kazimierz, established in the 14^th century by King Casimir the Great. Father Krysztof, who works on Jewish-Christian reconciliation dialogue, was our guide of the monastery and the church. As I walked in, I couldn’t help but wonder what the Jews in our group feel when they see images of Christ and Christ crucified.  How are their thoughts, feelings different than what I feel when I walk into a synagogue? Where I might find myself more in awe of the Hebrew script on the walls, the sculpted Ten Commandments, the alter where the Torah scroll is kept—these are all predecessor elements of my Christian faith. But for Jews, given hundreds of years of antisemitism in the Catholic Church and among individual Christians, Jewish perceptions of Jesus and the symbol of the cross will be a very different one. Although we learned in 1942, 8 of the friars of the monastery were rounded up by the Gestapo and taken to Auschwitz, it was not for rescuing Jews, but for being in possession of a radio, which was illegal for Poles under Nazi law. However, the church also served as a refuge for Jews after the war, especially after the Kielce pogrom in July 1946.

Zach and Shelby in St. Catherine's.

            From St. Catherine’s we proceeded across the Vistula to the Plac Bohaterów Getta (formerly Plac Zgody) which is the location of the Umschlagplatz for the Kraków ghetto. Once the location where thousands of Jews were deported, the empty space now serves as a memorial with empty chairs spaced throughout the square—yet another reminder of the life, creativity, genius, contribution that was lost between March 1941 and March 1943. Our day through Jewish Warsaw ended at Plaszów concentration camp, located a few miles from the site of deportation. It was also the camp ‘made famous’ in Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (although we learned that while the camp commandant, Amon Göth did shoot Jewish laborers, it was not from the balcony of his house, as the vivid scene in the movie shows).

Memorial at Plaszow concentration camp.

On our way back to the old town, Suzanne, Zach, and I each had a Żywiec and split a Zapiekanka—a Polish specialty of a long loaf of bread, cut lengthwise, covered in sauce, cheese, and toppings of your choice. We asked the vendor what one of the Polish words was in English, and her reply of “green peppers” sounded complimentary to the rest of the toppings we wanted. Well, the green peppers were actually pickles but we made do, and it was quite an enjoyable moment watching the activity on the market square, discussing the day, and imbibing Polish beer.

Zywiec break.

A light to the weighty end of the day, was the opportunity to skype with Jason and wish him a happy birthday, despite the waning internet connection and thunder storm outside which made it difficult to hear. I only wish I could have spent the day with him to celebrate.

The last days in Kraków and onward to Warsaw to come….

Sobota w Krakowie (A Saturday in Krakow)...

On our first free day in Poland, Saturday (Shabbat), I ran about 3 miles around the old city wall of Krakow, along the paths of the Planty (today a grassy park, but once the medieval city’s moat). I then walked to Kazimierz (about a 25 minute walk from the hotel) and listened to a Polish Pimsleur lesson along the way. I may or may not have pretended to be on the phone with somebody so when the lesson told me to say, “I have already been in Krakow for 5 days” or “I want to go to Warsaw,” I would loudly repeat, “Jestem już w Krakowie na pięć dni” or “Chciałabym pojechać do Warsawę,” secretly hoping everybody would think I was Polish ;). Thus with random, mispronounced Polish phrases coming out of my mouth, I made my way to the Galicia Jewish Museum to listen to a lecture by Professor Barbara Kirschenblatt-Gimblet, director of the future Muzeum Historii Żydów Polskich (Museum of the History of Polish Jews) which is scheduled to open sometime in 2013. She walked her audience through a 3-D tour of what the interior of the museum will look like as it details the thousand-year rich Jewish heritage in Poland.

  After the lecture, and a restful stop at the BagelMama shop next door, we headed over to the Jewish Community Center (JCC) to listen to a panel comprised of Erika Leher, Sławomir Krapalski, and Jonathan Ornstein, entitled “Remembering the Jews.” I have used Krapalski’s works in several of my own research papers, so it was fascinating to listen to him in person, albeit in a jam-packed room, on the fourth floor of an un-air-conditioned building, with the sun outside heating the building to a sticky 85 degrees. With my left hand rapidly fanning the sweat dripping down my face, my right hand wrote feverishly the following information. Kapralski, a sociologist by training, opened the discussion with a question: “What are the reasons for Poles to be interested in Jews?” He began by describing the two waves of interest in Jewish culture in Poland. First, there was an idealized picture of Polish-Jewish relations when they lived together, yet there was no place for the Holocaust here, and a second wave of interest that includes the Holocaust, acknowledging (and regretting) Jewish death and taking that experience and trying to recreate Jewish life, despite the obvious absence. Kapralski called Poles “to bring back real history, understanding the difficult past, and the increased tourism.” As Poles currently try to regain their identity with the new political (and historical) discourse of the Holocaust in a post-communist setting, they will have to include the different memories of a people lost. After all, multiple sites in their country (such as Bobowa) mean something completely different (and in the case of many towns and former shtetls, often something more) to Jews than to Poles.

I felt like I was only left with questions. Is it even appropriate for Poles to celebrate Jewish life? Because memory is related to identity and defining oneself, and that memory is a social process, what is the meaning of Jewish revival, by Jews in Poland, but especially by non-Jews? Is Jewish revival in Poland a “relic of the past”? An oxymoron? What is the meaning for Jews related to Polish culture? There is this skepticism with ways foreign Jews relate to Poland. What does it mean for Poles to be positively engaged with Jewishness?

Since the fall of Communism, Poland has experienced an upsurge of “Jewish tourism.” Yet to what extent has this tourism caused more harm than good? One cannot glue the experience of the Holocaust in Poland and the Jews together (as so often done in Israeli curriculum, especially with the March of the Living trips, which focus on sites of Jewish death). The March of the Living materials still do not mention modern-day Poland, so the experience of the Israelis visiting Poland is limited to the Holocaust and sites of death; there is no mention of present day Jewish life or Polish improvements. The reduction of Jewish life in Poland is misleading, and in the worst cases can lead to anti-Polonism. Although dialogues are starting to change this landscape from explicit negativity towards Poland to one focused on the persistence (and perseverance) of Jewish life. When groups can still mourn and remember the loss of life, while not having the latter be central to students’, teachers’, an/or visitors’ narrative, then I think real progress, learning, and dialogue can finally take place.

Jonathan Ornstein, the director of the JCC and who used to live in Israel, also feels that the March of the Living message seems to emphasize that “Poland is a place of the past” and “Israel is a place of the future” which reminds us that there is still a long way to go. The way humans remember and understand a space changes if they think a viable community remains or if it doesn’t. Visitors need to know that Jewish presence has not died in Poland. Ornstein continued this discussion in a private meeting with our group the next day (Sunday, July 8). He reported that Krakow has the highest percentage of non-Jews interested in Jewish culture, and one really should not (can’t!) separate Polish and Jewish, since they have been intertwined for 1,000 years. The Jewish Community Center in Kraków, which opened in 2008 after a donation from Prince Charles, celebrates Jewish life and focuses on overcoming the past, which Ornstien declares as a vital message for the whole world. It is interesting because while it is getting more and more difficult to be Jewish in Europe today; in Poland, it is actually getting better and easier—a fascinating deduction given the history. On the other hand, given the divisions within Judaism, many orthodox Jews might not see Jews who do not follow Kosher, understand Hebrew, or rest on the Sabbath as Jewish. Yet in the situation of Poland, when you have people in their 20s and their 30s finding out for the first time in their life that they have Jewish roots (i.e. from a grandparent who his his/her identity under Communist repression), what do you do? They are Jewish yet if all these demands are suddenly imposed on them from an outside, stricter Jewish leadership, these ‘new’ Jews may be discouraged from exploring their heritage.  Thus in Krakow and Warsaw, and other places where small pockets of Jewishness are growing, it is more about (according to Ornstein) breaking down the walls of what was “denied” to them and it is not fair to have all these expectations for what they are to already know, believe, practice, etc. Because Judaism has to be at the most basic level for this new community, “the JCC is Krakow is more essential to Jewish life for the community than any other JCC in the world.”

Ok, back to Saturday, I had to leave the question and answer section with the lecturers early to meet one last time with Jan Gross, but I knew the topics broached during the past 40 minutes were just the beginning of continuing discussion (debate even) over the kitschy revival of things Jewish in Krakow and the appropriateness.  All of the Jewish hotels and restaurants and stores in Kazimierz definitely give off a Disneyland Jewish culture vibe, and one will not find Shomer Shabbat Jews (those who keep all of the Sabbath commandments) present at the festival’s closing ceremonies on Saturday. Then again, the Kraków Jewish Cultural Festival, is a festival put on by non-Jews for non-Jews.

My second ‘meeting’ with Jan was just as eventful, albeit in a different way. What started out as a café conversation about his work, potential thesis ideas of my own, and teaching the Holocaust in Poland, was interrupted by loud cheering from the bar next-door. Jan asked me if I had been following the Wimbledon matches (I haven’t seen a tennis match in probably a decade). He said this one would be a good one to see, and sure enough, we joined the rowdy (and slightly, or not so slightly, drunk) Polish crowd next door and watched Agnieska Radwanska play Serena Williams in the final Wimbledon set. I was probably the only American in the bar, but of course I wanted Agnieska to win. Sadly, Serena (who is twice Agnieska’s size) had the upper hand and won the tournament.

Later that evening, I finally sat down to my first (and much-anticipated) plate of Polish pierogi. I was joined in this momentous occasion by Suzanne, Zach, Chris, and Mike. $4 and 12(!) pierogis later, I ambled over to the final concert of the Jewish Cultural Festival (termed the ‘Jewish Woodstock’) with the group. Swept away by the Klezmer-inspired music and vocals of The Aleav Family from Israel (and Mike’s [in his words, “Bukhari”-inspired] dancing skills:  http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=613581031870). I easily forgot that I had been standing for several hours packed between a crowd of a thousand or so people in Kazimierz’s old square. 

Temple Synagogue (Reform) in Kazimierz.

Far left: Slawomir Kapralski and Erika Lehrer (and Zac, who I pretended to be the subject of the shot).

Small panorama of the old square in Kazimierz and the beginnings of the final concert.

"A Jewish Woodstock" (for better or for worse).

Jestem tutaj w Krakowie! (cont.)

The next morning (Friday) we visited the “Ulica Pomorska: Krakowianie wobec terror 1939-1945-1956,” a museum part of the Kraków History Museum (Muzeum Historyczne Miasta Krakowa), which traces what happened to Polish leaders, political prisoners, and those of the Underground from 1939 through 1945 by the Nazis, and then again from 1945 to 1956 by the Soviets. We walked through the basement cells where Polish prisoners were tortured by the Gestapo, and stared at the stone walls filled with etched names of those who were confined. These cells were yet another physical reminder of past Polish suffering and the complicated narrative of tensions that arose during (and especially after) the Communist regime over who suffered more, Pole or Jew?

We proceeded to a lecture at the Jagiellonian University, the second oldest university in Central Europe (second only to Charles University in Prague) and alma mater of famous graduates such as Nicolas Copernicus and Pope John Paul II. Dr. Barbara Klich-Kluczewska from the Department of History at Kraków University delivered the lecture entitled, “Understanding Poland. A lecture and discussion on modern Polish history.” Sadly, due to the heat of the day, the darkness of the room, and the lull of our teacher’s voice, my eyes drooped and several decades of recent Polish history had passed by the time I jolted out of my slumber. I found out afterwards that I had many nodding-off partners during that lecture.

Carvings on the prison cell walls by Polish political prisoners of the Nazis.

In the evening, we dressed up and returned to Kazimierz to attend Shabbat services at the Isaak Synagogue, an Orthodox synagogue from the 17^th century which was not destroyed in the Holocaust. Thankfully I sat next to Shelby who did her best to explain the slightly chaotic happenings of the service. Because we sat in the women’s section on the balcony of the synagogue I could only hear (although not understand since my Hebrew “skills” are limited to ‘Shabbat Shalom” and “Gut Shabbes”) and not see anything behind the 3 ½ foot mehitzah (or walled gender partition, which exists, as I am told, so the men are not distracted by the beautiful Jewish women as they pray [of course, this is one of many reasons] ;p). I too was distracted and kept myself occupied by staring at the worn inscriptions on the walls, the standing and sitting as the rabbi read different prayers, and people-watching since Jews from all over the world, here in Kraków for the Jewish Festival, were present for the service. And, because women have to have their shoulders covered in the synagogue—my ‘covering’ consisted of a knit sweater—I quickly became a sweaty (and itchy) observer.

            After the services, we proceeded through the Kazimierz street network to the Kupa Synagogue for a Shabbat dinner put on by the Jewish Community Center. There were over 300 guests present for the dinner and the Chief Rabbi of Poland, Michael Schudrich welcomed everyone and led the blessing of the wine, the Kiddush. I ate a copious amount of challah and hummus but did not venture near the gefilte fish or the pickled herring. When bottles of Polish vodka were brought to the tables prior to dessert, I wondered if after-dinner vodka was a typical gesture for a Sabbath meal; I was quickly reassured it was not and it made me smile that this mixture of things Polish with things Jewish, a very small reminder that Polish and Jewish traditions have intermingled in this land for 1,000 years before the Holocaust, and here in this place, filled with laughter, the persistence of Jewish life (and love of life) was exemplified and made all the more significant in a nation that lost 90 percent of its Jewish inhabitants only 70 years ago.

After Shabbat services, filing out of the Isaak Synagogue.

Front of Isaak Synagogue.

Our Shabbat dinner, hosted by the JCC of Krakow, at Kupa Synagogue.

Jestem tutaj w Krakowie! (I am here in Krakow!)

I am currently sitting in Kolory (‘Colors’), an artsy café on Plac Nowy—the ‘New Square’ in the Jewish quarter of Kraków called Kazimierz. I have been sporadically taking notes this past week which has only resulted in a hodgepodge of half-finished paragraphs, random memories and insights. Needless to say, the time for organizing such thoughts should have happened days ago, and I apologize for my tardiness. But alas, I keep you waiting no longer.

            In order to maximize space, I want to devote the majority of this entry to our first few days in the medieval gem of Kraków, but I must mention one story from our orientation in New York City, which crazily, was already an entire week ago. With the anticipation of early mornings and late nights in Kraków, I decided to get a long run in while in New York. It was about 7am when I left, running from our hotel, through Battery Park and up the biking path that borders the Hudson River. I am about 30 minutes into the run, feeling sick, tired, and hungry when I past a focused walker listening to his music. I recognize him immediately as David Marwell, the director of the Museum of Jewish Heritage (where we are having our orientation) and famed former Nazi hunter—employed by the U.S. Government in their Special Operations Department to locate Josef Mengele, the “Angel of Death” Nazi physician at Auschwitz. Now, immediate Holly-reaction upon recognizing Dr. Marwell is to keep running; she is sweaty, gross, and makeup-less (a usual big no-no to talk to important people), but somehow I found myself saying, “David?” and upon seeing him look over and take out his ear buds, but before he could say anything, I rapidly blurted out, “My name is Holly! I am one of the fellows! HI!” (I think I sounded overly excited, but I will attribute it to my previous post-run panting.) If he found my introduction an interruption to his walking routine, he showed no sign of it and kindly talked wih me about the path and how beautiful it was, my upcoming half-marathon, and how I am going to attempt to run in Poland (I have been in Poland for 7 days and have run once, not off to a great start).

Skipping ahead, our group arrived in Dublin at 5:30am on July 5^th (meaning it was only 11:30pm July 4^th in New York) right when I was just getting tired. I told myself I would sleep on the next flight; yet as my seat was next door to the bathrooms and there was 9 crying babies on the flight (who alternated crying, so it was continuous—I am not lying—for three hours), sleep was hard…no, impossible…to come by. We finally made it to Kraków, but since our hotel rooms were not ready, we dropped off our bags, and began a several hour walking tour in 90 degree Kraków, with a break for a kosher lunch, where we were introduced to our three guides. Tomek, the Director of the Auschwitz Jewish Center in Oświęcim; Maciek, who calls himself “Junior” as opposed to Tomek, who is “Senior”; and Dara, a former AJC fellow and currently on a Fulbright scholarship to research in Poland. After lunch the trekking continued, and late in the afternoon, after climbing Kraków’s Wawel Hill, and not having slept for 30 plus hours, we were a motely, mopey crew despite Maciek’s encouragement and good cheer.

            I had to get my tired act together to meet that evening with Jan T. Gross, author of Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne and Fear: Anti-semitism in Poland after Auschwitz and academic celebrity (for better or worse) in Poland after voicing not only Polish collaboration, but instigation, in the Holocaust. I walk into our determined meeting place, and, much to my surprise, half my group is there (of all the cafes in Kraków!) having a much-anticipated Polish beer. Thus when Jan walked in, I was able to introduce him to our group (we all had to read Fear for our group readings). We were able to catch up for a bit before being told that there was a Yiddish “flash mob” happening outside on the Plac in a few minutes. We all herded out of the café, including Jan, to watch a Yiddish band pick up their instruments and play, while 20 or so people balanced half-filled water bottles on their heads, formed a line with one hand on the shoulder of the person in front, and proceeded to follow the band around the square. Here I was walking around with Professor Gross—whose works have led to so much change in how the Holocaust is taught in Poland, enjoying the sights and sounds of Jewish culture in Poland. What an incredible way to end my first evening abroad.

The Rynek, Krakow's main square. St. Mary's Church (left) and the cloth market (right).

Group Lunch at Olive Tree, a kosher restaurant in Kazimierz.

Wawel Hill, once home to Krakow's royalty before the capital was moved to Warsaw in  1596 by King Sigismund III.

To be continued…

New York, New York (or technically outside of Trenton, NJ, in route)

I am currently sitting on the bus to New York, waiting for that moment when the current sadness I feel after saying goodbye leaves and the excitement for the trip enters. I am afraid I still have a long way to go. After a tearful (on my end) goodbye to Jason at Union Station, I began the first leg of my journey solo (and slightly nauseous as I stare at the empty bag of goldfish that I habitually consume when I am nervous).

My aim for this blog is not a history lesson, nor a travel journal that merely lists activity after activity, meal after meal, location after location. Instead, I hope to incorporate history into the daily, snip-bits of reflective dialogue into the activity “listing”, and personal thoughts and analysis of Jewish-Christian dialogue that out-detail my to-be-expected, descriptive praises of meals.

The thinking process at least has already begun. I looked out the bus window and saw a large truck in the fast lane, speeding by with a 2 foot by 4 foot Confederate flag waving from its back. My initial reaction isn’t a racist South or the Civil War. My nostalgic reaction stems from happy trips to visit my family in Mississippi and the plantation-dotted car ride to Natchez, where I bought a small Confederate flag of my own when I was 15. I was very proud of that flag—of my family history and its roots. I thought I was “cool” to display it in my bedroom or bust out my Confederate-flag playing cards (that I purchased on a quick college-search trip in San Antonio) for a high-school game of poker. What I did not (or more probably refused to) understand, was that little red cloth, with its star-studded St. Andrew’s cross, was a blanket symbol for racism.

In a very similar manner, I am about to embark on a journey to a country whose more-recent history speaks volumes to perspectives and paradigms, whose past seems to spit out stereotypes, where the white Polish eagle of freedom is stained red by the anti-semitic pogroms and government-sponsored discrimination that occurred after the war. Seeing the Polish national flag may cause resentment and hurt—almost a symbol of anti-semitism—for Polish-Jewish Holocaust survivors and their families. And yet, seeing Israeli youth come to Poland to see only sites of death and mourning before returning home, and touring Auschwitz with Israeli flags draped around their shoulders, I can only wonder if this national symbolism, and the associations different groups have of the symbols belonging to the respective ‘other,’ does more harm than good. (Needless to say, my confederate flag souvenir has long been retired).

It has been a rough road for Poland to say the least, but one that I argue is experiencing positive change. Although the myth of Polish suffering and victimhood to redeem the ‘sins’ of Europe is dying with the older generation, admitting specific Jewish suffering and Polish collaboration with the Nazis is a relatively new phenomenon, buried deep under 45 years of Communist repression and falsification. Poland was a nation on the mend and now is an incredible example of a post-Communist country coming to terms with the past, seeking forgiveness and moving forward, where cities and towns alike are embracing their communities’ past Jewish heritage and traditions despite the physical absence of Jews.  

Being part of this incredible fellowship opportunity run by a Jewish organization (and where all of our group meals will be kosher), I hope to better understand others’ views of Poland. Do Americans and/or Jews still view Poland as racist? Backward?  As uncompromisingly Catholic? As a Jewish graveyard? And I wonder as an outside observer, what connection will I have? As a non-Jewish, non-Catholic, non-Polish woman, will I be able to grasp the complexity of the situation, comprehend the cultural nuances, or even begin to  understand what Communist politics did to a nation in mourning by telling its 'citizens' that Poles—not Jews—suffered in the war against Fascism? What remedy or knowledge will I be able to offer? And will it be listened to?

So as I approach New York City, where so many Jewish immigrants arrived, lived, and prospered, I will synthesize the myriad of  my mind’s complicated thoughts and aspirations to three simple goals: to have an open mind, to be ready to discuss, and eager to listen. Tomorrow is a day packed with a guided tour of the Museum of Jewish Heritage, discussion of our multiple readings (which I am desperately trying to finish), a lecture by David Marwell—the museum’s director, and Holocaust survivor testimony. Then its off to the Lower East Side on Tuesday, and off to Kraków on Wednesday. But let me not get ahead of myself; one thing at a time.

                                    Oldest Jewish Synagogue in the U.S., New York City

Wrócę wkrótce! (I will return soon!)