Krakow is one of the few Polish cities not demolished by Germany in WWII. Its saving grace at the time was that, the Germans loved the city, and thus said it was Germanic in history and proceeded to rename all the streets and squares to German names while taking it over. While most names have been reverted back to their Polish origins, you can still feel the embers of German and Russian occupancy as you pad down the cobblestones.
Krakow’s Old Town is always bustling - it’s a site to take in over food and wine. In most cities, the restaurants lining the town squares are all tourist traps with workers peddling bad-quality, high-priced food to passersby on the street using the Vanna White technique. However, Krakow’s Old Town has a couple exceptions. At Wesele, nobody was chasing me to come eat there - instead, I had found the restaurant myself due to its high recommendations and reviews online. Snagging one of their few patio tables, I was able to spend the evening drinking wine with my beef goulash and potato pancakes while simultaneously listening to an instrumental jazz band playing “Careless Whisper” in the square. The band members didn't look much older than 21, but they were rocking out to some George Michael. Yes, they definitely deserved some kudos, so I threw some złoty into the guitar case to support the '80s music cause!
Outside of the Old Town, at ul. Lipowa 4, you come upon Schindler’s factory. Most Americans are familiar with Oscar Schindler through Spielberg's “Schindler’s List.” Although the movie wasn’t exactly 100 percent accurate, this factory indeed reflects hundreds of lives saved. In front of the factory gates, lining the wall are photos of people who survived the atrocities of WWII because this factory existed. Inside I walked through the museum, and there is a portion where giant Nazi flags hang from the ceiling down to your waist - you have to swerve in and out to maneuver around them. Simultaneously in the background, you hear Nazi propaganda reels broadcast during that time. It gave my arms goosebumps - it’s an utterly creepy feeling, and I think that’s completely the point, to invoke that feeling, the fear of that time.
While in Krakow, it was also important for me to make the trek to Auschwitz. I found attempting to get there at the last minute was not as easy as I had anticipated. Visiting is free but you must have a ticket. Unless you arrive before 10 a.m. or after 3 p.m., you must tour the grounds with a guide, but if you wait until the last minute, most tickets with guides are sold out. You can also book tours with different companies that have their own guides. I went to the pseudo tourist information desk in Krakow only to be told that she had one ticket left for an Italian tour. I said, "Unfortunately, I don’t speak Italian," and her response was, “Well, take it or leave it.” I told her, “Leave it.” Undeterred, I opened up my Rick Steves book and started reaching out to private guides to see what they could do, and voila, I got the hookup from Andrew Durman, including a solo tour ticket! The next morning, I was picked up at 7 a.m. from Andrew’s driver, Bartek, to headed to Oświęcim (also known as the German name, Auschwitz).
Auschwitz is actually two separate sites, Auschwitz I and II (Birkenau). At Auschwitz I, the sun was glimmering down as I walked under the gate laden with the phrase “Arbeit Macht Frei,” meaning “work sets you free.” The years of quiet after the horrors that took place there has allowed nature to grow, and the trees with such pretty green leaves around the barracks remind me of grass and flowers that curl around a tombstone in a cemetery - covering the tears of loss.
Walking in one of the barracks, you go upstairs and turn the corner in a dark room to find yourself surrounded by cases of hair - human hair. A room filled with the hair of those lost and the products the Nazis were making from the hair, like blankets and mats. Everything you see at Auschwitz is horrific, but this was a different type of horrific. To see a part of somebody - not an object, but something carrying their DNA. Looking at the strands of brown and gray hairs in the glass, I was holding my breath, choked up on sadness.
Three miles away from Auschwitz I is Auschwitz II (Birkenau). Coming up to the front of Birkenau, you see the train tracks leading up to the gate where there was an unloading platform. Then the tracks crawl under the gate like a toxic liquid seeping through, plank by plank - disappearing into the far depths of Birkenau, taking innocent souls directly to the crematoriums. There was no facade of “work sets you free” at Birkenau - the Nazi goal couldn’t be clearer.
My thoughts were similar to the ones I had in Cambodia at the killing fields. I had to come to these places. I had to pay respect. For me, travelling isn’t always about doing “smiley - fun” things. It’s about learning the history, feeling the history.
After such intense outings, getting back to Krakow and just walking through the city felt good, and a little vodka tasting didn’t hurt either. I popped into Staropolskie Trunki, and the wall was just lined with different flavors of vodka at different strengths. The bartender told me people tend to do a flight for testing, but I would have been stumbling back through Old Town had I done that because a flight was four shots, and I had an empty stomach. So I did one Earl Gray Tea vodka tasting and was pleasantly surprised at how smooth it was. It would be the perfect nightcap drink to sip on … after dinner of course. I’m not exactly a lightweight, but after one, I certainly had an extra bounce to my step.
