Częstochowa and Auschwitz

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architecure, archives, Auscwitz, barracks, beetroot barzszc, Black Madonna, Catholic, church, coffee, coins, cold, concentratin camp, crutches, currency, Czech Republic, Czestochowa, diocese, eerie, Europe, euros, exchange, extermination, family, French, gas chambers, genealogy, healing, history, Jasna Gora, Jasna Gora Monastery, Jesus, Jewish, Jews, Joseph, Jozef, Katowice, Machosky, mail, misty, monastery, monument, muddy, museum, painting, pierogi, pierogi ruskie, Poland, Polish, post office, postcards, rail car, railway, rain, research, rosaries, Russian, Slovak, Slovakia, souvenirs, stones, sunset, surname, tour, tourism, weather, Wyzsze, Wyzsze Seminarium Duchowne, Zilina, zloty

Today started with a quick stop at the post office, then we headed northwest towards the Czech Republic.  The mantra soon became “Avoid the Czech Republic at all costs!” when we were stuck in long, senseless traffic due to construction and realized taking a shortcut through the country should be avoided on the way home.  It should have only taken three hours to get to Częstochowa, but it was not so easy.  We ended up stopping for lunch at a dinky little place on the way to Katowice that we thought was closed.  Nope, we were the only customers.  Regardless, I got some delicious espresso coffee, a beetroot barzszc, and more pierogi ruskie.  We got back in the car and listened to some American music until we finally arrived in the heart of Częstochowa.

It was raining.  It was raining when we left Slovakia, raining while we sat in the Czech Republic, and raining here in Poland, too.  Yards were flooded and creeks were scraping the decks of small overpasses.  I only had two one-złoty coins and Juraj had no Polish currency, so we found a small parking lot to leave the car in that had neither a meter nor a sign that said parking was not allowed.  Juraj asked me where we should go, but I said I had no real idea.  I was on a mission to learn more about my great-grandfather and to see his city, but I knew he was from a farm on the outskirts and that I had very limited information.  I decided to start with the church with the Black Madonna because, if nothing else, it should have some information to help us.

This endeavour lead us to the Jasna Góra Monastery, an enormous church up on a hill.  We walked inside and asked for help on the genealogy aspect of the voyage and were given some places to try.

Then Juraj and I wandered inside the many halls of the church, passing paintings, sculptures, even a room with rosaries and crutches hanging from the walls,…

I stopped only when I reached the far room containing the Black Madonna painting.

I decided that was more than enough for me, so we headed towards the Wyższe Seminarium Duchowne where a lot of archives are held.  Alas, my great-great-great uncle, who was a Catholic priest in the town, was from a mystery diocese, so every search I made was blind trying to get more information.  Because I did not know his diocese, I also did not know for sure where my great-grandfather would have been baptized.  More shots in the dark.  On top of everything else, like the birthyear being somewhat ambiguous given the era and the importance of accuracy…well, the records of those years were also in Russian and the surname Machosky as we spell it today could have been any million of strange symbols in that book.  We went off of Jozef/Joseph most of the time instead because it was easier to read.

Finally I gave up, deciding I would need a lot more time to get anywhere and that I should save it for another trip.  Next, we walked around the town a little, got some coffee and souvenirs, mourned at there being only one public restroom with a charge, then we finally got in the car and headed the hour and a half towards Auschwitz.

The camp was eerie in the fog and misting rain, but we walked through the mud on our own anyway.

It was less elaborate and museum-like than we were expected, but we walked into several sleeping quarters and peered into various extermination windows.  A lot was under renovation.

There was even a train car with rocks staked up on pieces of it, some with Hebrew messages painted on them.

We headed out as the sun set and the museum started to close.  Finally, we had a dark couple of hours to drive home, exhausted.

I plan to head to Austria in the morning and spend the night in Vienna.  I will likely see Bratislava next on the way back to Juraj´s.

Oravský Hrad and Orava Village Museum

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abroad, beer, bryndza, Case Western Reserve University, castle, centuries, cheese, clothing, country, Czech, Czech Republic, Czestochowa, damage, ethnic, Europe, fairytale, family, filming, fire, floods, fortification, gardens, garlic soup, Gorals, great-grandfather, herbs, history, indigenous people, livestock, local, local cheese, lunch, medieval, Mongol Invasion, Mongol Invasion of Hungary of 1241, Mongols, mountains, movie, museum, Orava, Orava region, Orava Village, Orava Village Museum, Oravsky, Oravsky Hrad, Poland, Polish, Prague, rain, region, restaurant, restoratin, rural, salad, sheep, sheep cheese, Skalica, Slovak, Slovakia, Slovenska bryndza, solo, storm, student, study abroad, summer, Tatra National Park, thunder, tools, travel, Turks, village, visit, voyage, Yilina, Zuberec

This morning I got up to fill out the postcards I got from Skalica which I will mail later.  Then Juraj and I jumped in the car and headed east from Žilina to nearly the southern border of Poland.  We made a quick stop to view the Praying Monk and Camel rocks near where we hiked yesterday, then continued our journey.  We were in the Orava region, home to the indigenous group of people called the Gorals.  The region was very mountainous and rural.

We pulled off first to tour the great castle called Oravský Hrad.  The castle was built before 1267, placed over the site of an old wooden fortification from the Mongol Invasion of Hungary of 1241.  The castle eventually grew in size over the years and as it changed hands in ownership.  Unlike most castles in the region, it was never destroyed by Turks or others with the single exception of a fire over 200 years ago which damaged much of one section.  That section has since been repaired and, in the last century, a lot of restoration efforts have been made to bring it back.  Even the chapel and included tomb is now open for visiting.  Unfortunately, the castle may be closed some of the next year due to another fairytale filming.  But it was by far the nicest castle I have visited or seen from afar in this country thusfar!

We left the castle and headed even closer to the Polish border.  Just after entering the Tatra National Park, we stopped for lunch.  I had beer, of course, with garlic soup and a salad with some more of the region´s notorious Slovenská bryndza.  Right next door was our next stop, the Orava Village Museum in Zuberec.  The village is a series of moved buildings such as houses, barns, churches, etc.  Many are open so you can walk inside, some just have windows to peer through.  We walked around the village to get a feel for what life was like here over the last several centuries.  The rooms were decorated heavily with ethnic clothing, handmade tools, and drying herbs.  There were even real livestock and crops growing in well-kept gardens.  On the way out, I found a cat to pet and Juraj and I threw pebbles in the bell tower until we got the bell to ring.

 

A storm was brewing, so we hurried in and left just before the museum closed.  The drive home faced intermittent rain.  By the time we were home for soup and tea, the thunder was roaring and the rain was coming down heavily.  I just keep thinking towards my plans for Prague and other regions and the realization that recent floods might be altering my route a bit.  Nonetheless, we will head back to Poland tomorrow to view the town where my great-grandfather grew up, Częstochowa.

Moscow to Warsaw

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American, Battlecreek, Bierhalle, Case Western Reserve University, English, Europe, flight, France, King's College, layover, London, Michigan, Moscow, Novy Swiat, pierogis, planes, Poland, Polish, Restauracja Corleone, Russia, Russian dumplings, solo, station, student, Tamka Hostel, tickets, tour, tourism, train, travel, USA, Warsaw, Zurek soup

I got off the plane in Moscow, turned the corner with thirty minutes until my next flight boarded, and was suddenly confronted by a wall of people waiting for International Transfers.  My stomach dropped.  I thought of all the bad things that would happen if I missed my flight: my hostel reservation, my train reservations, my schedule,…I don’t have a Russian visa!  I can’t stay here longer than 24 hours and the next plane won’t leave until past that!!  Can they arrest me?  If it’s their fault?  Is it their fault??  I started to play the Indian game where I’d press my body against the person in front of me and push.  Oh, hi, you’re from Copenhagen.  Yes, I’m so close to you that your address on your book bag tag is in my face.  You look like you’re in a rush too and you don’t like these Indians pushing you either.  Then I watched a line of Indians with planes leaving several hours later (I could see their boarding passes) shove in front of us and cut off dozens of people.  Unbelievable.

Finally, Peter from Copenhagen shows his ticket to a lady who scribbles down the terminal number on it and pulls him through the crowd.  I do the same.  “Warszawa!  Warszawa!”  I was shoved through security and my tickets were all stamped within three minutes.  Naturally, Terminal D Gate 31 was on the other side of the world, so I took off running.  I couldn’t understand or read anything.  I passed windows of Russian dolls and jewelry and cigarettes until I reached a long line at my gate.  I shrugged, checked my watch again, and ran into the bathroom then to a café for a drink and a pack of gum.  Then I boarded the plane without a problem.  I was expecting to see a lot of Polish people, but my flight was actually predominantly Russians.

The flight was only two hours long and not much happened besides our meal.  Finally, I was touching down in Warsaw.  I could hardly believe I was finally making it to Poland after all of these years.  It was kind of like my first time landing in France.  I rushed off the plane, rushed through Passport checks, was surprised by how much Polish I could read/remember, and finally made it down to grab my bag.  I exchanged $20 for just over 50 zlotys and went out front to find bus information and maps.  I got a ticket for 4,40, grabbed the 175, actually didn’t validate the ticket because it was so crowded, and rode the bus until Ordynacka.

I was wearing a book bag and dragging two suitcases when I misinterpreted the construction and my direction and proceeded down Nowy Świat instead of turning.  I ended up making a large loop before I found the Tamka Hostel.  I tried to open the door, but to no avail.  I decided it was too early to check in and that maybe they have a lunch break between check out and check in at 2PM.

I decided to drag my stuff back to Nowy Swiat where I found a place called Restauracja Corleone which allowed me to bring my bags inside.  I chose an outside-facing seat and people-watched while I drank some local beer, ate some gnocchi, and called my grandma.  When it was after 2PM, I wandered back towards the hostel.  I stopped at the iSpace store because I thought I’d fried my charger in India but I was wrong and it’s now working.  Then I got to Tamka and found that the door was yet again locked.  Oops, you just had to push the buzzer.  They’re there 24/7.  I went in, checked in, and was relieved by how nice the place is.

I showered quickly and grabbed my things to go buy tomorrow’s train ticket just in time for it to break out in a huge storm.  I was cold in my sundress under a plastic poncho.  I wandered and had to ask someone where to buy the ticket.  The station I went to didn’t sell the right kind; she said I had to go to the main station and recommended taking the      train to it.  I chose instead to walk and see more of the city.  I wandered clear to the Śródmieście Południowe area, grabbing some bubble tea and dodging trolleys before heading back up towards the Centralna station.  I bought my ticket, wandered the shops to buy things I needed, then crisscrossed streets on the way back to photograph even more things and buildings and statues.  I stopped back only long enough to charge my phone and surf the internet before I went back out yet again for dinner.

I looked up a place with good beer and tried out Bierhalle on Nowy Swiat, very near to my hostel.  I had one glass, some Żurek soup, bread, and a plate of Russian dumplings (pierogis with cottage cheese and sauerkraut, topped with bacon).  I don’t eat meat, but I wanted to try the authentic dishes anyway.  It was very good but I was too tired and filled up too easily.  I took the pierogis back to the hostel for tomorrow.  Back in my room, a quietly grabbed my computer and things to come downstairs because one of the guests had been sleeping all night.  Suddenly, a voice called out: “Just turn on the light; I need to get up anyway.”  I was surprised; the voice was in American English.  I flipped on the lights to find a kid sitting up in bed.  He introduced himself as Ty of Battlecreek, Michigan who is studying genetics at King’s College in London.  He had a very slight accent; I couldn’t tell if it was from studying abroad or if he was perhaps born in an Asian country.  We chatted for some time upstairs and in the common room.  Then I was falling asleep despite my tea and decided it was time for bed.  I want to see the old section of town in the morning.