I didn't take
notes on my trip, other than with the camera. I came to Poland on an invitation,
and as the date drew near I started coming up with all the other reasons
why I should be going to Poland. My grandparents were born in Poland, and
my name is my father's americanized version of Olszewski. My father has
never been to Poland, nor has anyone I know, so it's easy for me to make
the decision to go somewhere no one has gone before, aside from having
an invitation to visit Poland.
The first night
was spent walking endlessly across Warsaw, this was to be the shape of
my trip, endlessly walking all over the city. I saw the architecture, enjoyed
the cold and dismal weather, strolled through the lovely city parks, and
learned so much from my host about life, people and the mechanics of the
city. I made a visit to the outskirts of Warsaw, where Soviet minimalist
functionality is brutally evident in all of the architecture. I got a short
tour of a walkway, a water reservoir, and the walking paths surrounding
the development, as well as some pierogies and pancakes served by a grandmother
that reminded me so much of my own grandmother's kitchen from so many years
ago. I learned about a youth that was not that different from my own, only
a million miles away from anywhere I've ever been. After a few more days
in Warsaw, the trip headed south to Krakow, the first capitol of Poland.
The first night
in Krakow was spent exploring the old city square, including the spectacular
central market and surrounding cathedrals and city walls. I drank Polish
beer, and I'm still not sure how I liked it. The next day I visited the
Auschwitz Museum. Nothing prepares you for the enormity of it all. The
rows and rows of barracks have been transformed into museum showrooms,
each one chronicling a different aspect of the creation of the camp, the
transformation of the camp, as well as the arrival and processing of prisoners,
the living conditions and daily life, and lastly the death and disposal
of the prisoners. Throngs of people silently filed through the exhibits,
you could lag behind one tour guide and another would be bringing up a
crowd behind you, so you were endlessly informed about more and more details
of the camp. At one point I wasn't sure if I could continue, I felt sick
with understanding the reality of it all. By the end of the tour, I had
stopped feeling, everything just weighed down in my head, in my heart.
On the bus ride back to Krakow I realized the sun is shining again, life
is going on everywhere, that people recover, that people get back up again.
Another evening in Krakow was spent walking through the old city, and I
drank more Polish beer, and I'm still not sure how I liked it.
The next day
was spent getting back to Warsaw, and then kicking around in the city for
another night. I lined up a guided tour and learned even more about some
of the places I had already been, and started figuring out how to find
more places, started understanding the city maps, started figuring out
the bus routes. The next day I decided to tour the Warsaw Uprising Museum,
just to learn about one of the biggest and most defining events in Polish
history, the Nazi occupation and the subsequent destruction of the city.
Upon entry into the museum, I was met by an endless thumping subsonic bass
beat. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I started reading the timeline
of events, beginning with Germany's invasion, followed by Russia's invasion,
right up to the end of W.W.II. A recording of the deafening roar of bombs
and gunfire made everyone jump, and immediately the stress level went up
a few notches. The next few hours were spent taking in a story of profound
dedication and bravery against insurmountable odds. It was hard to read
about each small victory, knowing the entire campaign would end in defeat.
I managed to go so far in my life without understand many of the details
of what happened in W.W.II, and I was ignorant of what happened in Poland
during this time. My grandparents left Poland years before this happened,
and I wonder how they reacted when Poland ceased to exist during the occupation.
The reality of these people, suddenly understanding so much of a very real
history of the modern world, it all quickly fell into place at the end
of my trip. Suddenly I understood my Polish heritage, suddenly I understand
the enormity of these events that shaped the world. I walked through the
courtyard surrounding the museum in the grey rain, and realized that the
names of the resistance fighters that perished were carved into the granite
walls. I found a loose-leaf binder on a pedestal, and looked up the original
spelling of my last name. There were almost two dozen entries of people
with my last name that died in the fighting, and two of them actually had
my grandfather's name, Eugenius. When the rain grew heavier, I ducked into
the gift shop for shelter, and in the hushed silence I suddenly heard an
old Polish anthem playing on a tiny wooden music box. I felt an ocean of
tears welling up inside me when I decided I should have this, to listen
to this melody whenever I need to remember where I was, and who I am.
On the last
day of my trip, a friend arrived by bus from Stuttgart, Germany, and I
was able to play tour guide for a few hours. After hours and hours of walking,
I slept well, and jumped up to finish my final morning. I briefly met with
my host for a short goodbye, and sat in the airport all day waiting for
a delayed flight. So much to think about, in some ways I don't feel so
alone any more, in another very big way, I really am all alone here.
Special thanks
to Anna, and to all the people of Poland.