Catching Up

I’ve been off the writing game for a few days.  I think that Auschwitz Birkenau made me think of too many words, none of which I want to share yet.  Then I emotionally yoyo-ed to the archaeology museum under Krakow’s Cloth Market.  Other than a few technological issues, it’s a great place.  Krakow has done a wonderful job of preserving and interpreting their historic center.

Following Krakow I traveled north to Warsaw to stay with Steve A.  His parents are friends of the family, and they pimped him (well, his guest room and washer/dryer) out to me.  Since the train connections in the south of Poland suck, it made some sense to head north before moving west.  Plus, you know, laundry!

Warsaw had 83% of its buildings destroyed during WWII, and the Soviet influence thereafter makes the city an architectural nightmare.  If someone would like to explain the differences in Brutalism, neo-Brutalism, and Soviet architecture: I’m all ears (hint, hint, Michelle S.).  

I mean really, what is this?

So I toured the rebuilt prettier parts in Old Town and New Town, ate sushi for the first time in months, and went to the Warsaw Rising Museum (http://www.1944.pl/en/).  I expected the treatment of the Nazis in the exhibits (who do you think destroyed that 83%?) but I was deeply surprised by the absolute fury expressed at the Soviets.  Despite my healthy knowledge of history, I really knew much more about the Ghetto uprising than the general uprising in August 1944. 

The uprising was prompted by the Soviet Army entering from eastern Poland, and indeed was encouraged by Stalin.  But the Varsovians were left without support, even hindered by the Soviets, and left fighting the Nazis alone for over two months.  The Russians held back, planning to take the weakened Polish nation for themselves, and even refused Allied planes access to their airstrips for airdrops of food and weapons.  The cynical cruelty of it all is breathtaking. 

Another element that struck me was this: when I was at Auschwitz someone who had been a young teen during the war (non-Jewish, local resident) said, “there was nothing we could do”.  In Warsaw women and children were active participants in the uprising.  Acting as medicals, as guides through sewer tunnels, operating radios and telephones, and delivering mail and newspapers to ensure communication throughout the recaptured areas.  Yes, many of them died, but the *shrug*, “what could I have done” is paid out for the lie that it is. 

The Soviets are given an additional drubbing because after the war they rounded up the remaining members of the Army and executed them because they didn’t want Polish Nationalists running around.  Pretty bitter history all around.  It does do more to explain the love the Poles feel for John Paul II.  He isn’t just local boy made good, he also had some harsh words for the Soviets at a time when most people weren’t criticizing them.

Not that Warsaw was all bad!  Don’t think that.  Steve and I had some great Greek food.  But this history of this area is all so grim.  So of course my next stop was Berlin.  I’m an idiot.  Though levity-wise the train trip was great.  My train compartment companions didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Polish, but we nevertheless counted all of the deer we saw along the way.

My first impression of Berlin is that the whole place is under construction.  And I do like that a university building is named for Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm.  I’m only spending one day here so I jaunted over to the Berlin Wall Memorial.  It’s just heartbreaking.  More negative feelings about the Soviets.  Then I checked out the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag.  Now I have cookies, because they may make me feel better.  Either way, I’m off the Utrecht tomorrow to stay with Kate.  I expect that time to be much, much cheerier.  

Remnant of the wall.

Brandenburg Tor.  On the subway, they do not pronounce that like you'd expect.  Is there a German version of a Brooklyn accent?