Prague: Full of Tourists, For Good Reason

My apologies for the lack of images- WordPress seems to be glitching on me, so I’m searching for a fix and will have the article updated as soon as I solve the problem!

Prague is the one city on this European tour that I had a pretty good picture of before we arrived. I knew from friends who have been that Prague was gorgeous. I had been told it was cheap- very cheap. I knew from the amount of travel shows that have covered it that it would have tourists on par with the levels of Rome or Paris. What friends and travel show hosts don’t tell you is that the city is much more than an Eastern European version of the City of Love. Prague has a vibrant, colorful, young feel to it that I hadn’t felt in any other place on this journey. Nestled in the mountains and straddling the Vltava River, this city is not just the capital of the Czech Republic, it is the home of nearly every major political development in Czech history. 

The earliest settlement in the area is a small Paleolithic village documented on the hill that would later become the site of Prague Castle. Rabbi David Solomon Ganz, a 16th century Jewish historian from the area, claimed the settlement was founded in 1306 BC by a man by the name of King Boyya, and named as Boihaem. This name later lent itself to the region and one of the empires Prague would become the capital of: Bohemia. At the latest, Prague Castle itself dates from 885 AD, making it nearly 1,200 years old on its own! This castle would become the seat of the Empire of Bohemia, as well as the seat for many Holy Roman Emperors. As the joke goes, they actually ruled an area that wasn’t truly Holy, Roman, or an Empire!

Before Adi and I even made it to the Old Town on our first day, we ran into a market of sorts selling traditional wooden toys, clothing, and food. One artist was even smelting metal on the spot! We continued onward to the Old Town, walking under the Powder Tower, a 15th-century city gate that has been restored since it was damaged in the 1648 Battle of Prague which ended the Thirty Years’ War. We visited the Old Town Square and enjoyed what appeared to be a festival of traditional Czech music as we continued on towards the river. We crossed the river via the pedestrian-only Karluv Most (Charles Bridge), a cobblestone crossing filled with street musicians, artists, and vendors.

 

We continued on to the famous Lennon Wall, which has been spray painted with graffiti- often politically charged- referencing many of The Beatles’ most famous songs, quotes, and beliefs. Originally simply a normal wall, the graffiti has been a feature since 1980 and was of particular frustration in 1988 to the Husák Communist regime because people- mainly students- would spray paint their grievances against the government onto the wall. The graffiti was (and is) allowed to continue due to the fact that it is the Sovereign Military Order of Malta which owns the wall. Adi and I took our photos, and after spending a short time there, we walked past the Strakova Akademie, the 1896-opened Seat of Government of the Czech Republic.

Adi and I trudged up what felt like one of the longest hills I’ve ever climbed to visit the grounds of Prague Castle. After some language barrier issues, we managed to get our tickets scanned and explore its history through an exhibition at the site, which allowed us to look beneath our feet at multiple-thousand-year-old streets, as well as immerse ourself in many other historical royal and ordinary artifacts. Due to the extreme old age of both the complex and the artifacts inside, no photos were allowed.

We crossed one of the city’s many bridges back into Old Town, and I had to see two synagogues that Prague is famous for. The first is the Staranová Synagoga, a small, still functioning building designed in the Gothic style.  It is also known as the Altneushul in Yiddish, or the Old-New Synagogue in English. The building is small, sparsely decorated with the exception of the Ark, and very traditionally laid out- even dimly lit in some spaces. Completed in 1270, the synagogue is the home of the famous legend of the Golem of Prague. 

Legend of the Golem of Prague: Short Version

In the 16th century, during the reign of Rudolf II, an old Jewish man named Rabbi Judah Loew lived in Prague. During that time, the Jewish people of Prague were being attacked and lived their lives in fear. Rabbi Loew decided to protect the Jews against pogroms by creating the Golem, a giant who according to the Cabala could be made of clay from the banks of the Vltava. Following the prescribed rituals, the Rabbi built the Golem and made him come to life by reciting a special incantation in Hebrew. The word “emet”, meaning “truth”, was placed on the Golem’s forehead.

The Golem would obey the Rabbi’s every order and would help and protect the people of the Jewish Ghetto. However, as he grew bigger, he also became more violent and started killing people and spreading fear. Rabbi Loew was promised that the violence against the Jews would stop if the Golem was destroyed. The Rabbi agreed. By removing the first letter from the word “emet”, thus changing it to “met” (meaning “death”), life was taken out of the Golem. According to legend, the Golem was brought back to life by Rabbi Loew’s son, and may still be protecting Prague today.

The second synagogue I had to see was the Jeruzalémská Synagoga, originally known as the Jubilee Synagogue. It became known as the Jerusalem Synagogue due to the name of the street on which it sits. This too, is still in use- and those who get to use it are beyond lucky. Compared to most sites in Europe (Jewish and non-Jewish), the building is fairly recent- having been completed in 1906 and dedicated on Simchat Torah that same year. Due to its Moorish Revival design, many architectural features feel Southern Spanish or North African, a striking departure from the more traditionally Eastern European architecture surrounding it. And the Art Nouveau-style detailing lends the building a bright, colorful, almost playful façade. The continuation of the color scheme inside with the inclusion of gold additions made the interior feel similar to a Catholic cathedral, which I never expected to see in a synagogue. My favorite detail lies inside, as well. Along the walls, there is gold leaf (unclear if it’s real or fake) lettering spelling out various phrases or psalms from Jewish tradition. Flanking the bimah and the Ark is a phrase from Psalm 121:

אשה עינית אל ההרים / מאין יבא עזרי

For those who cannot read Hebrew, it transliterates to “Esa Enai El HeHarim / M’ayin Yavo Ezri. Roughly translated to English, it means “I will lift up my eyes to the mountains / From where will my help come?” This psalm holds special meaning to me, because although I never learned it at my home synagogue, it was a constant feature during NFTY Northeast Shabbat. It quickly became one of my favorites, and to see it immortalized in such a beautiful space made me very excited. I know what you’re thinking: “Only Jackson could get excited about a PRAYER,” and while you may be right, I’ll argue that anyone would feel similar being in a space like that

               To the end of our visit, Adi and I took the elevator to the top of the Žižkov Television Tower to check out the views of the city. Controversial when it was first built, the tower was necessary for broadcasting a signal to the whole of Prague. It is also now the highest viewing platform anywhere in the Czech Republic. Adi and I also climbed what felt like forever to reach the top of a hilly park on the northern bank of the Vltava River, where a massive, mechanical metronome keeps the whole city of Prague marching to the same beat. This gave us a beautiful view of the city from an opposite perspective to that of the Zizkov Tower. Our last stop was the Prague Zoo, which we chose to do to bring out the inner child in both of us, and just for fun. We got there and spent about 45 minutes walking before being caught in a massive downpour, which after about half an hour subsided to a drivel and allowed us to go back outside. We ended our visit by hearing a jazz group made up of members of the Prague Police Department playing live at the zoo! Now THAT is something you don’t see every day

We then took an overnight bus from Prague to Munich, where I finish this post up. In the next few days I’ll be exploring Munich with and without Adi (while he is in class), and then enjoying a short stopover in Amsterdam on my way to Israel

Prague never lets you go…this dear little mother has sharp claws.” – Franz Kafka”   

Today, I Wore a Kippah.

I woke up, around 9:30 maybe. Checked my phone, as I always do in the morning. Slowly, groggily, got myself out of bed, and got ready for the day. “I’m not nearly as apprehensive as I figured I would be,” I thought. “This doesn’t seem right.” Adi looked over at me. 

“You ready?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I responded.

And with that, we grabbed backpacks and walked to the train station.

An hour and a half on the train. Not too bad. A slow ride, but beautiful scenery. I gazed out the window, lost in- well, nothing, really. I watched small towns and the Polish countryside roll past. Listened to music. Occasionally, Adi and I glanced at each other, lost in our own worlds. An hour and a half later, we arrived in the town of Oświęcim, Poland. We got off the train. Looked at each other. “Deep breaths,” I told myself. In the end, I would speak very few words until we arrived back in Krakow at nearly 7:30 PM. I checked the map. “That way,” I said, pointing down an unassuming road. We walked. Passed under a bridge. I checked the map again. Climbed up a hill to reach the bridge we’d just walked under. “This is it. Just at the end of this road. But wait one second.” I stopped, unzipped my backpack, and fished for the small gray, leather kippah I had been given by a friend. In preparation for what I was about to do, I clipped it into my hair. “All set,” I said. We walked further. Nearly at the end of the road now. Then I saw it, through a small grove of trees glistening green in the Polish sun. We arrived. I stood on the railroad tracks. Looked up, unable to move. I glanced at Adi. Looked back at what I’d come here to see. Took a deep breath. And walked through the main gate to the Birkenau Death Camp.

“Do something for me?” I asked Adi. “I need you to take this photo for me.” And like thousands of other young Jews for years before me, I unfolded the flag of the State of Israel, and draped it over my shoulders. Wrapped it around me like a blanket, as if to protect myself from the place in which I stood. On the railroad tracks, unable to move, I took another deep breath. “Okay,” I whispered to Adi, my voice somehow lost. “Let’s walk.” And so we walked. Down the row of still-standing prisoner barracks where thousands of Jews were forced like animals to slaughter. Peering in to the few that had signs explaining the conditions inside, dodging tour groups with guides in all different languages. We traced the perimeter with our feet. What felt like hours dragged by as I trudged each and every step of the perimeter road, barely taking my feet off the ground. I looked up, at the uncountable rows of brick chimneys- all that is left of most wooden barracks. Destroyed. Just ruins. “How DARE you?” I thought to myself, angrily. “How DARE you do this to us, and try to hide it? Take responsibility for your crimes.”

We kept walking. Picked a row, and walked down what turned out to have been a major crossroad at the camp. Kept walking, across the railroad tracks, following signs to the edges. Into the woods, briefly. Back out, in front of us the showers. Where my people were humiliated, stripped of everything of value they owned, heads shaved, clothing replaced with striped prisoner uniforms and tattooed numbers on their forearms. We kept walking, back into the woods. Made it to the back of Birkenau. Saw the ruins of gas chambers and crematoria, more reminders that this crime was not meant to ever be found out. Destroyed via dynamite by retreating Nazi forces who thought they could get away with the murder of 6,000,000 Jews. I climbed the stone steps to the International Memorial for the Victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau. Walked along its obsidian-black form, scanning the dozens of remembrance plaques in all different languages- a symbol for ALL, a reminder of what happened here. I looked back at Adi. “Let’s go,” I said, “There’s one more place we have to make it to before our train.”

We walked the same path as before, cutting through the middle of the camp. Made it to the dirt road into which the railroad tracks are still buried. Walked down the middle, stepping on each and every wooden railroad tie. Made it back to the gate. I looked up, once more. Lowered my gaze to the entry and exit space in the gate, and walked through. I did not look back.

We sprinted most of the mile distance. Got our tickets for 4:00 PM. Over lunch while waiting the 45 minutes to enter was the most I’d spoken all day. “Just so you know- again- I’m not going to make it through this without falling apart at least once.” Adi nodded, knowingly. 

4:00 came. We got in line. More deep breaths. Go through security. Exit security. I looked up, seeing the sign pointing us where to go. Walked down a short gravel path, and stopped. Looked up. “Arbeit Macht Frei.” “Work Makes You Free.” I didn’t say them out loud, but the words stuck in my throat as I tried to swallow. Another deep breath. Looked straight ahead. Walked through the gate, and into Auschwitz I. The original of the three. The place everyone’s mind goes to when you say “concentration camp.” I took a deep breath, and did a 360 degree turn to get my bearings. I set off not following the signs. I had only 45 minutes, and there were two things I came here to see. I walked aimlessly, not knowing where to look. I turned a corner. A mound of earth with a brick chimney and short concrete foundation came into view. I knew it was one of the places I had been searching for in this Hell on Earth. I walked towards the entrance. Took another deep breath. Looked behind me- no Adi. So I walked back around the corner, to find him reading the informational sign. I waited, patiently. He looked up, I nodded my head towards the door, softly. He understood. We walked back up to the entrance. I took another deep breath. And I entered the gas chamber.

“You are entering a place where the Nazis murdered thousands of people. Please stay silent,” the sign said. I looked around the dimly lit concrete entry. Looked through the door to my right. Moved into the next room. Into the chamber itself. I stared, motionless. My eyes went in and out of focus. I forced myself to move to the next room. It took a few seconds to register: two ovens, with equipment. Ready to burn the bodies of those murdered by gas in the room I’d just walked through. I stared. Leaned against the doorframe for support. Lost focus. Blinked. Regained focus. Walked back into the gas chamber. Heard, clear as day, the sounds of hundreds of people not knowing why their friends and family were suddenly dropping dead around them. Not knowing, because they had been promised it was just a cleansing shower to avoid infections in the camp. Not knowing, until they too couldn’t breathe. Not knowing, until they too fell to the floor, and never stood up again. I went back to the crematorium. I felt people shuffle past me. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adi’s white t-shirt move towards the exit. I shuffled past him, head down, back out into the Polish sun. I kept my head down. Felt for the concrete foundation of the building. Hoisted myself up to where I could sit, with my feet dangling a few inches above the ground. I sat for less than 30 seconds. Pulled my legs up onto the foundation. Put my head on my knees, arms over my head. And I cried. For 1,100,000 Jews murdered at Auschwitz-Birkenau alone. For 500,000 others murdered there. For 6,000,000 people who would never seen children, adulthood, or grandchildren. For entire families wiped out in less than a minute by gas, gunfire, and other inhuman acts. For what seemed like hours, I sat there. Felt Adi’s hand on my shoulder. Stayed motionless, save for the tears. “Doing okay?” he asked. I could muster nothing but the slightest shake of my head to indicate “No.” More time went by. Adi’s hand again. “Should we move on?” “Probably,” I responded, my voice muffled through my arm, my knee, and my still-occasional sobs. I put my knees down, keeping my head aimed towards the ground. Pulled down my sleeves, and tried to dry my tear-stained face. I put my sunglasses back on, pulled myself off the ledge, and kept walking. I did not look back. 

I searched in vain for something I knew to exist. 

“What are you looking for?” Adi asked, as I walked purposefully between buildings, checking the exhibition name on every building with an open door. 

“Shoes,” I mumbled back. 

“Shoes? What do you mean?” 

“You’ll see,” I said. “They’re here somewhere.” 

Frustrated, I stopped a security guard to ask. “This row, Block 4. Uhm, top level.” I walked to the spot the guard had pointed me to. Block 4, top level. No shoes. Instead, hair. Uncountable pounds of hair from women- mostly Jewish- who had it taken from them without a choice. Who lost part of their individuality by force. Because Jews did not count as human. I searched building after building, increasingly frustrated. Kicking myself for not simply asking before we’d walked in. 4:45 came. Time to walk to the train station. I never found my shoes. And Adi never got his answer.

We left Auschwitz I. Retraced our steps all the way to the train station, mostly in silence. Got on our train, one so old it looked like the Soviets had built it just a few years after the war. Sat on the hot, leather benches. Glanced at each other. I laid my head against the window as the train rumbled to life and left the station. Slept for an hour. Gazed, still lost in my thoughts, at the passing countryside until we arrived back in Krakow. I breathed the air of freedom.

This post is dedicated to the memory of the 6,000,000 Jews and 6,000,000 other marginalized people whose lives were ended, destroyed, or turned upside down by six years of Nazi rule. For those who did not get the chance to live a life of freedom, to breathe the fresh, clear air of a warm sunny day. Z”l, may their memories be a blessing.

“First They Came” – Pastor Martin Niemöller

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Krakow, Day Two: Jewish Heritage Kept Alive

Adi and I may have had a bit too much fun last night. After our packed day exploring the Old Town, we dropped our things in the hostel, I wrote yesterday’s blog post, and we headed straight back to the Main Square to find a bar where we could watch the Champions League Final. We enjoyed the game and the bar with some others there- including a few other Americans- and let time fly by. Before we knew it, it was 1:30 AM and we knew we had to make the walk back to the hostel for some well-deserved rest. We had a late start today- almost 2 PM- and spent what was left of the day exploring Kazimierz, Krakow’s Jewish Quarter.

Kazimierz was founded as an independent town in 1355. As early as 1264, the whole Krakow region had a thriving- and officially accepted- Jewish community, though it was not until Jews were expelled from Krakow proper in 1495 that the community moved to Kazimierz. King Casimir III The Great, for whom Kazimierz is named due to his being its founder, was protective of the Jewish community and ensured that his ethnic Poles had good relations with their Jewish neighbors, whom he also counted among his subjects.

Kazimierz was incorporated into the City of Krakow in 1801, four years after it came under the control of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Soon after this point, the Austrian authorities ordered all of Krakow’s Jews to settle in the district. By 1910 Krakow hosted a Jewish population of 32,000- a number that would double during the years between the First and Second World Wars.

Adi and I arrived to find a bustling, tree-filled, and beautiful area. We walked down the cobblestoned streets and were immediately presented with the Old Synagogue (Polish: Stara Synagoga, Yiddish: Alta Shul). The oldest synagogue in Poland and one of the oldest in Europe, it was built in either 1407 or 1492, depending on the source one uses. It was, until the Second World War, the center of Jewish life in Krakow. During the war, Nazi forces used the building as an ammunition magazine, but since 1958 has been a museum under the auspices of the Historical Museum of Krakow. Its rooms house exhibitions detailing Jewish customs on birth, prayer, food, divorce, and death. The building itself is fairly simple inside, save for the beautifully designed Ark which would have held the community’s Torah scrolls during its time as an active synagogue.

After leaving the museum, we headed across the small market square, walking to the sound of Klezmer music from a nearby restaurant in the square as we headed to the Remah Synagogue, a small, Orthodox-affiliated place of worship that is one of only two active synagogues in Kazimierz. Built in 1553 according to an inscription on the foundation block, royal permission from King Sigismund II Augustus was not obtained until 1556. Most believe the 1553 date is the year the decision to build the synagogue was made, and due to the first building (a wooden one) being destroyed by fire in April 1557, that year seems more plausible as the start of construction. It is a very small space, but the walls and the interior of the building are much more detailed than the plain white ones found in the Old Synagogue.

Lastly, we decided to see the Galicia Jewish Museum. Galicia is a region of Eastern Europe (not to be confused with the region of northwest Spain) that was once a Crown Land of the Austrian Empire. It covers an area that is today part of Poland and Ukraine, and has a rich Jewish history. The museum covers Jewish life in the region through the use of artifacts, descriptions, and photos. Personally, the most moving part to me was a photographic exhibition created by the museum’s founder in the early 2000s, which aimed to show the ruins of Jewish life both in terms of synagogues and communal life, and the Holocaust. The photos are incredibly moving, and a must-see for visitors. 

Finally, we returned to our hostel where I sit writing this after yet another amazing day in Krakow. Tomorrow will be a rough day: Adi and I are making the trip to Auschwitz, which is why I felt the need to write the first two days as separate posts. Tomorrow will be deeply moving and incredibly difficult, and the post will reflect that.

“We, Polish Jews” – Julian Tuwim, London 1944 (excerpts)

I am a Pole because it was in Poland that I was born and bred,

that I grew up and learned; because it was in Poland that

I was happy and unhappy; because from exile it is to Poland

that I want to return, even though I were promised the joys

of paradise elsewhere.

 

A Pole – because, due to some tender prejudice which I am

unable to justify by any logic or reason, I desire after death

to be absorbed and dissolved into Polish soil and none other.

 

A Pole – because I have been told so in Polish in my own

paternal home, because since infancy I have been nurtured in

the Polish tongue, because my mother taught me Polish songs

and Polish rhymes […]

 

A Pole – also because the birch and willow are closer

to my heart than palm and citrus trees, and Mickiewicz and

Chopin dearer than Shakespeare and Beethoven […]

…

There are two kinds of blood: that inside of veins, and that which spurts from them. The first is the sap of the body and as such comes under the realm of physiologists. Whoever attributes to this blood any other than biological characteristics and powers will in consequence, as we have seen, turn towns into smoking ruins, will slaughter millions of people, and at last, as we shall yet see, bring carnage upon his own kin.

The other kind of blood is the same blood but spilled by this gang-leader of international Fascism to testify to the triumph of his gore over mine, the blood of millions of murdered innocents, a blood not hidden in arteries but revealed to the world. Never since the dawn of mankind has there been such a flood of martyr blood, and the blood of Jews (not Jewish blood, mind you) flows in widest and deepest streams. Already its blackening rivulets are flowing together into a tempestuous river. AND IT IS IN THIS NEW JORDAN THAT I BEG TO RECEIVE THE BAPTISM OF BAPTISMS: THE BLOODY, BURNING, MARTYRED BROTHERHOOD OF JEWS.

Krakow, Day One: An Old, Royal City

I’m going to say one thing first and foremost: Krakow is absolutely incredible. This city- or what I’ve seen of it so far, is exactly what I hoped I would find in Europe. We spent our first day exploring the streets and Main Square of Old Town Krakow, and it’s like stepping into another world. The first place we stopped in the Main Square was the Cloth Hall. It’s impossible to miss- as you enter the square, it looms like a castle in the middle of a vast sea of cobblestones. There is a passage in the middle that allows you to access the other side of the square, but we chose to walk its length to check out the vendors and atmosphere. In the 1500s, this hall was the main meeting place for traders from West and East meeting to make exchanges and barter for goods. Spices and teas from the east were traded for grains and Krakow’s textiles (giving the hall its name) from the West, making Krakow a major center of trade at the time. Today, the Cloth Hall holds stalls selling the usual tourist trappings, along with fur hats and slippers, Krakow’s amber jewelry, and Catholic religious items- many of which honor a native son: Pope John Paul III. 

Beneath the Cloth Hall, we visited the Podziemia Rynku. Muzeum Historyczne Miasta Krakowa, an underground museum detailing the long history of the city of Krakow. It is set underground due to five years of excavations on the site of the Main Square, during which archeologists found layers and layers of civilization buried underneath the present day square. The excavations were completed in 2005, and the earliest traces of roads and buildings they found were from the 1200s. These buildings and roads were built of wood, and still had traces of charring- leading researchers to believe that the pre-Kingdom of Poland city was sacked in the First Mongol Invasion of Poland. The city was then rebuilt with a charter from the Polish Crown.

Adi and I moved from underground to soaring above Krakow’s center by climbing the north tower of St. Mary’s Basilica, the massive church just meters from the Cloth Hall on the edge of the Main Square. The north tower, slightly taller than its southern brother, hosts the hourly bugle call played in place of bells. From the basilica’s website: 

“In the mid­dle ages, the bugle call was play­ed from the tal­ler tower, which served as the city’s watch­to­wer. It anno­un­ced the ope­ning or clo­sing of the gates of Kra­ków and, more impor­tan­tly, out­bre­aks of fires or ene­my attacks.

The call abrup­tly cuts off. As the legend goes, when Poland was being attac­ked by the Tatars in the 12th cen­tu­ry, the­re was a guard up in St. Mary’s Tower day and night to watch over the safe­ty of the locals. When he noti­ced the inco­ming Tatars, he star­ted to play the call to warn the unsu­spec­ting town­spe­ople of the appro­aching dan­ger. As he was play­ing, he was shot thro­ugh the thro­at by a Tatar arrow.

To this day, the bugle call cuts off at the same moment in memo­ry of the hero­ic bugler, thanks to whom Kra­ków was able to rise to bat­tle with the inva­ders.”

After taking in the views of Krakow’s Old Town and the surrounding area, we headed to our last stop on day one: Waweł Castle on the Wisła (Vistula) River, built for King Casimir III the Great. The hill it sits on was also the place where the settlement that would become Krakow was founded. We chose to visit the Royal State Rooms and the underground cave known as the Dragon’s Den. The State Rooms hold paintings, furniture, and tapestries from all over Europe dating from between the 1200s to 1900s. We were not allowed to take photos, so unfortunately all I have to share are outdoor pictures of the walls and castle grounds.

The Dragon’s Den is a limestone cave located directly underneath the castle, known in Polish folklore as the legendary home of the Waweł Dragon. The legend comes from the 13th century Bishop of Krakow, Wincenty Kadłubek. According to folklore, the dragon was defeated by the Polish King Krakus with the help of his two sons. In another version, he is defeated by a cobbler named Skuba. The inspiration for this version likely comes from a church of St. Jacob (Polish: Kuba), as one of the stories of his life holds that he defeated a fire-breathing dragon. Regardless of its origins, the cave itself is quite a short walk- though this in no way diminishes the fun Adi and I had walking through it.

Day one in Krakow was a great success, and I can only say I look forward to day two just as much! Tomorrow we’ll be visiting Kazimierz, the Jewish Quarter of Krakow. Stay tuned for that post!

“Krakow is one of my favorite places on earth. It is a medieval city full of young people. A wonderful, striking combination.” – Jonathan Carroll

Berlin: A Modern City With a Reconstructed Past

Day One: My introduction to Berlin began with a landing at Schönefeld Airport, located on the southern edge of the city. As a budget airport, Schönefeld is bare-bones, and a place I would not want to have a layover. I caught an S-Bahn train (what we in the United States would consider a commuter rail) to Berlin Hauptbahnhof (the Central Train Station) where I met Adi to begin our adventures. The first day was only a half-day due to our traveling, but we started things with a bang. Walking around the center of the city, we passed by the Reichstag (the seat of the German Parliament), and the Brandenburg Gate, where Former US President Ronald Reagan famously asked then-President of the Soviet Union Mikhail Gorbachev to “tear down this wall!” 

After passing through the Gate, we continued on to one of Berlin’s most interesting and thought-provoking places: the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. This is Berlin’s Holocaust memorial, though it is designed in a very different manner than any others I have visited. The memorial is a field of concrete blocks, which rise taller and taller as one walks deeper into the memorial and the ground slopes downwards into the center. As the blocks are roughly the dimensions of a coffin, many visitors interpret the array as a cemetery, with the lack of names used to show the vastness of the numbers of those murdered by Nazi Germany. For me, I saw it similarly to how some have used the space: as a place of remembrance, but also one that melts into the surroundings in such a way that you almost don’t realize where you are. Walking deeper into the memorial, I felt myself becoming more and more lost both physically and mentally. I felt the sights and sounds of Berlin around me slip away until all I could here were voices of other visitors.

After our time at the Memorial, we continued on to another historic spot: Checkpoint Charlie. This spot, as many know, was one of the major crossing points between East and West Berlin during the time of the Berlin Wall, and has become the best known to today’s generation. Today the checkpoint is not so impressive, at least to me. A replica of the guardhouse still stands similar to what the original looked like not so long ago- exceptnow, it is on an island in the middle of a busy street. There are still sandbags surrounding the checkpoint, though they serve no purpose anymore. There is a museum in a nearby building, though Adi and I felt we had other things we wanted to do. Disappointingly, the Allied Army personnel at the site are not real US Army- merely actors dressed to replicate the time period.

Adi and I continued on to the Jewish Museum of Berlin, which was designed to show Holocaust artifacts and memories as well as more modern Jewish life such as art and sculpture. It also hosts an exhibit showing the importance of Jerusalem to all three major religions. While the museum was certainly interesting, I did not feel as touched as I thought I would. Most other Jewish museums I have visited seem to evoke something deeply emotional, and there was only one place here that truly did that. That place is known as the “Voided Void” or Holocaust Tower. With no heat or air conditioning, no light besides a small slit in the roof, and only an underground connection to the rest of the building, the Void is meant to evoke a trapped or stuck feeling. And this onlycompleted our first half-day in Berlin.

Day Two: We began our second day with a visit to the “Topographie Des Terrors” (Topography of Terror) Museum. Unlike many other museums discussing the Nazi era, this one is designed to emphasize and teach how the Nazis were able to commit their crimes, and how they kept public support for their actions. For added symbolism, the museum is built on the site of the former Gestapo headquarters. This was a difficult place for me to be, but the museum serves a very important purpose and it was heartening to see how crowded it was- both with individual visitors as well as school and tour groups. It was clear to me that there is a deeply-held belief that people should know how the Holocaust came to happen, so that it may never happen again.

We then moved on to the East Side Gallery, a section of the Berlin Wall filled with graffiti that lines the Spree River cutting through Berlin as a public art exhibition. This too was filled with people enjoying a beautiful Berlin day out, and the graffiti made for a stunning contrast to the modernity of the buildings surrounding the site.

We spent some time at another museum near Alexanderplatz, called the Ephraim Palais. This three-story museum tells the story of Berlin through different paintings ranging from royal times to the present-day. It is organized by different themes, with each room in the building hosting a small collection of paintings that show Berlin in a different light. Afterwards, we walked westward hoping to get into the Berlin Cathedral and Berliner Schloss (Berlin Palace), though the Palace was closed for renovations and the Cathedral had closed for the day. Instead, we simply walked past them and around the area. Day two was long and filled with lots of walking, but well worth each place we visited- even if they weren’t all open.

Day Three: Day three was a much shorter day, as we had ended the previous night as one usually does in Berlin- hitting the bars and enjoying the night out. It was also our last day in Berlin, and we had managed to see most everything we wanted. The one thing leftto do was to head westward towards the far edge of the city. Out in these residential reaches is Schloss Charlottenburg, the former royal residence of Prussian King Frederick William III. We spent a few hours touring the grounds, which is home to a few different buildings and notable places.

Our first stop was the palace itself, which is unfortunately mostly non-original. It sustained large amounts of damage during the Second World War, so many pieces of fabric, and sometimes entire rooms, are reconstructed based on samples discovered in various places. Nevertheless, the palace houses multiple paintings from various royal residences, as well as some of the jewels and riches of Frederick WIlliam III’s family. It also houses the family’s porcelain collection as well as some silver kitchen pieces.

After the palace, we walked a few meters to the New Pavilion, designed as a more private retreat for the king. This houses yet more paintings and is mostly a reconstruction as well. The setting cannot be recreated as it was, because the Spree River has been redirected away from its original path past the pavilion.

We spent some time in the gardens taking photos and people-watching, before heading deeper into the woods for the other two buildings of the complex. The first is the royal family’s mausoleum, housing the bodies of King Frederick William III, his wife Queen Luise, Emperor William I and his wife Augusta, and other members of the Prussian royal family. The sculptures on the main level (all that are visible to visitors- the burial places themselves are located in the crypt below) are considered masterworks of German sculpture. From our visit, it was easy to see why.

Lastly, we ventured deep into the gardens to visit Belvedere, which we knew nothing about other than that it was part of the palace complex. When we arrived, we discovered that the three-story building houses the Federal State of Berlin’s porcelain collection. I could not believe that a state government would have a porcelain collection at all, but learning that it once belonged to the Prussian royal family, it made much more sense. The detail and design of the pieces was incredible. I know next to nothing about art, but even I could see the historical importance of these pieces.

On a whim, we ended our final day in Berlin with a visit to the outer Berlin city of Spandau. There, we briefly took in the Citadel and some of its exhibits, before the site closed for the day half an hour later. We decided to wander the streets of Spandau for a little while, taking in a more classically German town than much of Berlin. After that, it was out to one more outdoor bar, and then to bed to catch an early bus to Krakow, where I write this post. I’ll sign off for now, but stay tuned for posts from Krakow in the coming days! Danke, Berlin!

“Ich bin ein Berliner!” – President John F. Kennedy