Day One: On the train

I’m sure you can imagine where my head was post-museum.

As we ride along, I can’t help but think of the cattle cars and box cars that transported Jews along these same tracks away from the Warsaw Ghetto, various towns and Schtetls, to death camps such as Sobibor and Belzec.

The city gives way to forested landscape quickly with little towns interspersed. Birch forests line the railway. The juxtaposition of the past images with such beautiful landscape is heavy on my mind.

Elie Wiesel in his book “Night” wrote, “I’m going to teach you the difference between day and night.  Always look at a window, and failing that look into the eyes of a man.  If you see a face, any face, then you can be sure that night succeeded day.  For believe me, night has a face.”

It is daytime and the sun is bright. I look out the window and see only forest.

Day One: To the train

We left the museum to get water, some food for the 2.5hr train ride to Lublin, check out the hotel and get to the train station.

We stopped in a little market and I got yelled at (in Polish) for taking this photo of the bread display.

I had no idea what he was saying, but I could tell he was pretty upset at me. I just said, “English” and he replied, “NO PICTURES!” I gave a somewhat dismissive wave and apologized. I’m not sure why being yelled at in a language I don’t understand amused me, but it did. Quite a bit.

We ended up buying four rolls for the train ride. He wasn’t so grumpy at us when we checked out.

After gathering our things from the hotel, we made our way to the train station. We had some confusion as to which platform we needed to go to, but eventually figured it out. No thank to two ticketing agents or the random woman I asked.

Mom descends to the platform.

We are at the train station. The noise and smells  are the same as any city station. This one is not as dark as Chicago downtown Metra main station. It is more open and better lit. Chicago’s downtown Metra is one of the Nine Stages of Hell.

I understand nothing of the overhead announcer. However, in Chicago I could rarely understand the loudspeaker either. I can’t help but compare to what I know and draw similarities and differences.

The colors in this station are interesting.

Across the way, there is some mural on the far wall. I wish I knew what it says.

We are on the train. Second class here is finer than any Amtrak general admission ride I’ve taken and darn close to its first class. We have cubby seating, theoretically shared with a potential six other strangers.

We got our own room.

We had a lunch of delicious breads and pears.

Yes, I’ve been taking an inordinate amount of photos of bread. (it’s damn good here!)

A photo I took me myself

and mom reflected in our train-room mirror

. . .

Day One: Warsaw

I am not counting my travel adventure, so it is technically “Day One.”

We planned catch the 12:40 train for Lublin, so had some morning time to explore. We went to The Emanuel Ringelblum Jewish Historical Institute. We walked through a lovely park on the way.

I’m not sure exactly what the property originally was, but now it’s a lovely walk. If I could read that sign, I’d know a lot more about this park.

After a short-ish walk, we arrived at the museum.

I took a lot of photos inside, but quite a few didn’t come out. I should have turned off my flash. The museum was a Holocaust museum (if you didn’t gather that already). According to the pamphlet I picked up, “The building is located in the former seat of the Main Judaic Library and Institute for Judaic Studies, which prior to the Second World War, were located adjoining the Great Synagogue on Tlomackie street. During the Nazi occupation the building was within the walls of the ghetto. It became a vibrant center of clandestine work, of social and cultural activities.”

The building, and the adjoining Synagogue, were burned down. The Synagogue did not survive, but the shell of the Library was intact and was rebuilt after the war to become this Holocaust museum.

To view the artifacts was intense. There are photos of Jews and goyem who participated in hiding and helping Jews escape the Nazis. There are papers and photos about the Warsaw Ghetto, the uprising and the many who were killed. I’m not going to go into the whole history, because that would take way too long and hopefully you already know at least some.

The Nazis forced every Jew  post-age 12 to wear one of these armbands.

Unfortunately, most of my photos of these underground papers didn’t come out. I had no idea these publications existed. It amazes me that despite being hungry, displaced, humiliated, brutalized… people were still able to create, print, and distribute 200 – 500 copies of protest publications. (sorry about the flash glare)

Only one of my photos of a publication came out and I have no idea what it says. But you can easily get a feel for the sentiment from the image.

It is difficult to capture the scale of the artifacts, papers, and collected history that is in this rather small building. It is three stories tall, but narrow. This is a view from the stairs going up to the third floor.

This is a Seder plate that survived. It is from Germany, first half of the 19th century.

During the Seder, one of the fun things for kids is to hide the matzoh. Traditionally, at least for us, the Patriarch of the house  (my grandpa) would bribe us to get the matzoh back. One year, I got $15!

This Matzoh machine was in the hallway close to the front door.

Those of you who know me know that I call myself a “bad Jew.” I semi-celebrate Hanukkah and nod at the other holidays. I was mostly raised Unitarian and lift a skeptical eye at organized religion. That said, I have always felt a connection with my Jewish history and heritage.

When I look at the images of people in the Ghetto, the recovered papers and artifacts, menorahs from the destroyed Poland, I see my history.

Those were my people.