Arriving in Kraków, the friendly girl at the hostel let me sleep in an empty bed after I told her I was on the overnight bus.  I had noticed that Kraków was already beautiful even though I hadn’t entered the old city yet. The fortifications were surrounded by a beautiful green ribbon of parkland with small ponds and fountains and mounds with plenty of benches for contemplation.  I had also noticed a giant sign advertising Auschwitz tours at the checkin desk. I had previously wondered if the hostel workers would try to see tours to Auschwitz in the same way they sell tours to mountains and lakes in other hostels. I knew that if they tried that on me, I would be terribly offended and be unsure of how I would react.  Luckily, sleeping was more important for me and I was not offered a tour. Unfortunately, my room was right behind the checkin desk and I witnessed many other guests being sold early morning tours of Auschwitz, without any sense of sadness or solemnity or referencing ways to pay respects to the dead. I did not understand how people did not see the tastelessness of this.

I awoke to a somewhat handsome and somewhat creepy Dracula looking Turkmenistan dude staring at me.  He had been there for a day or two already. He wanted to chit chat. Judaism came up almost immediately.  I had just told him I was doing genealogy research. He awkwardly felt the need to tell me that he “used to hate Jews but now I think they are the best people because when I was in need they were the first ones to give me a helping hand.”  I still don’t know what he was referencing and the whole conversation made me feel terribly uncomfortable but I was also intrigued by this character.

Over the next few days, we would spend a lot of time together drinking and eating and getting to know each other.  He had a very unnatural oratory style where he would make grandiose proclamations mid conversation “one day… I will complete my studies here in Kraków and I will be so well educated on Polish history and I will meet my beautiful wife and we will have a large family with many children…” he said as I sipped my coffee at 8:30am at the bakery next to the hostel. “Yes, that sounds great”, I responded.  He was really excited to have the opportunity to study in Poland. He reiterated this many times. He made it clear that there is no freedom in his homeland and studying in Poland will absolutely change his life.

I found the old city of Kraków to be beautiful except for the old Jewish Market Square.  This was the part of town that so many have spoken and written about. There were fake Jewish themed shops and restaurants meant to evoke a former era.  There was the synagogue with a local worker wearing a kippah standing outside. The actual square was just a parking lot though. There were golf carts also taking tourists around or just parked, taking up space where the actual square should be.  Pedestrians have to walk between the parked cars and maneuver around moving gold carts in the famed Jewish Market Square, the same place that many say is the best representation of prewar Jewish life in a major Polish city. I felt it was complete garbage.  It did not help that throughout the old town there are posters advertising tours of various activities around Kraków: Zakopane mountain, the salt mines, Auschwitz-Birkenau. All of that on the same sign, as if they represent the same things. Going to Auschwitz is just another thing to see on the list of things to do while on holiday.  These signs were everywhere and consistent in their low quality disrespectful advertising of a site where almost a million innocent people were murdered. Some signs even advertised sales. I began to feel that maybe Kraków was not such a great place.

I walked around the rest of the old town and made my way to the edge of Kazimierz across the river to the Oscar Schindler factory where I saw the line for entry extend down the block to the corner.  I returned to the hostel and figured I had seen everything and wasn’t sure what to do the next day.

I ended up repeating the same steps the next day but with the help of a guided tour.  I figured a little more context of what I was seeing would help me break this down. I took the walking tour of The Jewish Quarter.  Our guide was a very well educated local. He went to high school a few blocks away from the market square I hated so much. He explained to us how great the square is and how much better it looks now than in the 90s.  I asked him privately what the deal was with the parking lot and the golf carts everywhere. He acknowledged that it was not the best look. I pointed out the inconsistency to him: how could you proclaim the greatness of this spade when it is just a parking lot?  It is called a square but you cannot walk though it. There is no fountain or seating area. The main square of Kraków has fountains and artwork and zero cars parked in it. That’s a true grand square that people have pride in. This is just a square that you say you have pride in, but you do not. The words are unfortunately meaningless.

We walked through Kazimierz and the old Jewish ghetto.  The stories were awful. Judenrat buildings were pointed out.  Great (sarcasm). We walked to the Schindler factory yet again and that’s where the tour ended.  Really bad execution there as the factory is nowhere near any transportation to take you back to the city. The guide did a great job but reinforced my awkward feelings about the city: there are a few good people who actually care and everything else is just tourism and talk. 

The next day it was raining and I wasn’t sure what to do.  Something was telling me that I needed to see Auschwitz on my own. No tour, no hostel friends.  I literally ran to the train station to catch the train to Auschwitz. I never thought I’d say that.  I caught it at the last minute. When we arrived at Oswiecm, I walked the 1.5km to Birkenau in the rain. Two dudes who got off the train with me were in front of me. I introduced myself to them and discovered they were two Polish locals from Kraków living in London.  I wasn’t sure why they chose to go to Birkenau in the rain, maybe they were having an educational moment too? I thought it would be good to tell them the short version of Pawel’s family hiding my grandpa and his family and how I met Pawel a few days before. I told them that we should walk around Birkenau remembering the good Polish people and celebrate life while we respect the dead.  They did not seem too moved by my story or my inspiration. I do not really know what they were thinking. I started to wonder why these guys were going there.

Birkenau was the filthiest, muddiest, ugliest place I have ever been.  It’s so large. The barracks never end. My plan was to go to the crematoria to say Kaddish and then go to the official memorial and then leave as soon as possible.  Unfortunately as I approached the memorial, I saw a fat Polish grandpa chatting about on his cell phone laughing and having a good time. The level of disrespect was astounding.  There were signs describing proper conduct for the site: no talking on phones. He was violating this on the memorial plaza. Disgusting. I motioned to him to get off the phone.  He acknowledged me but kept talking. I didn’t bother turning around to see if he ever got off. I just wanted to say my prayers and get out as soon as possible.

There were dudes who crawled under the barbed wire and were walking around the restricted areas as if the site were a playground.  There were the people posing for photos next to the holocaust train, the train tracks and the main building. Posing, smiling, trying to get the right light.  Weeks later, I would see an Instagram post from a remote year schmuck with photos from Auschwitz remarking on the beauty of the site and the artistic nature of the boxcar juxtapositioned amongst the green fields blah blah fake social media inspirational moment.  I wrote a comment that Auschwitz is not an art piece and that this isn’t the opportunity for an inspirational moment based on beauty. A million people died here. The site is a graveyard of torture and suffering. Respect the dead and don’t make this about you and your social media or how prolific you think you are.  No one cares.

At this point, I was just disgusted with everything Kraków stood for. Any sort of respect I thought that Kraków had for the lost Jewish community was totally out the door.  Kraków is a tourist city with a list of things to see and do. Auschwitz is just one of those things and it doesn’t get any deeper than that. It’s not for me. It’s not for Jews. Jewish people will not get any sense of solace or healing from this site as they watch large groups of tourists chatting away at high volume and catching up socially as they walk through the mud between the barracks. There is very little respect for the dead among the tourist groups.

One of my hostel roommates was a 19 year old from Genoa.  He was traveling for week and told us how worried his mother is. He made sure to tell us about his workout routine, his hair, his skin.  He made sure to change in and out of shirts and shorts three times after his shower, unsure of what to wear and thirsty to show off his almost nude beautiful body.  He mentioned that he was planning on going to Auschwitz the next day on an early morning tour but he wasn’t sure if he “was going to be impressed”. I told him I thought he was using the wrong word in English because Auschwitz isn’t there to “impress” anyone.  He either did not understand or did not agree and he repeated himself! I cut myself off from talking more and chuckled it off. I said, “this is personal for many people, you have to be careful how you talk about it because it’s a sad topic.”  He said be believed because this happened in the past there is no reason to be sad about it now. That was his philosophy.

I envy his simplicity.  I wish I could look at a concentration camp or death camp and wonder if I will be entertained by it or if it will be a waste of my time.  I had not planned on visiting any concentration camps in Poland. I agreed with myself earlier that I was already an amateur Holocaust historian and I did not need to torture myself by viewing the atrocities of the Nazi Germans in real life.  Whatever the nightmares might be, I just do not need the visualization. I don’t need the proof. When I was at Pawel’s house the first time, Aunt Jacqui and I had a phone call. We talked about how loving the whole Pawel experience was and she asked me if I was going to visit Auschwitz.  She told the story of visiting Auschwitz with Grandpa in 1999 and how the first thing you see in the museum is the collection of luggage and Grandpa saw luggage with his hometown on it and he made some sort of awful gasp noise that she will never forget. She told me I really should go. It’s important to see.  So, I decided that maybe it is something I should consider when I go to Krakow. Maybe I could also see Majdanek in Lublin because it is known to be the best preserved. I would end up seeing both.

The final night in Krakow, it was raining.  The Turkmenistan roommate and I wanted to get drinks at our favorite little bar.  We invited the rest of the guys in our shared hostel room to join us. The Italian kept saying he had to wake up early for Auschwitz.  The Singapore guy was excited a New Yorker (me) would be joining. The Danish guy did not really speak English. At the bar we were shooting the shit and somehow the conversation became about usage of the “n” word.  I think the Italian guy said it and I told him he really should not say it. He gave the standard response, “but they say it all the time in the music.” Europeans just do not understand the nuance of American racism and sensitivity towards race, regardless of if race is real or a social construct.  I guess this is the same guy who does not care about history. So now we are all talking about the “n”-word. Next thing you know, “n”-word jokes are being told and laughed at. I started become very uncomfortable and stressed. We were having such a good time before this “n”-word thing, I had even bought a round of shots for the table.  The Danish guy told me that “n”-word jokes are huge in Denmark and pulled out his phone and looked up the word “neekerati” or something and showed me pages upon pages of Danish anti-black cartoons. They were really bad. One of them was a child eating a bar of chocolate and it just said, in Danish, “n*gger kiss”. I started thinking about my black friends at home and how they would react if they knew this was happening.  I thought about how there was an Asian guy at the table and how I’m a Jewish guy and we are in Poland doing something incredibly racist. I don’t know how the conversation changed from Blacks to Jews but I should have known it was coming. Maybe I did. The Turkmenistan guy says something totally out of context about how 90% of the US Congress is Jewish and then looks at me suddenly as if I am at fault for something. I said, “what!? What percent?!” He repeats himself.  And I responded, “less than 1% of the US population is Jewish, what are you talking about?” and he says, “yes that’s what I’m talking about, maybe 90% in congress have Jewish background...” And I said, “Dude that is incredibly fucked up. Don’t ever say that again. It’s just not true and I don’t even know what point you are trying to make.” The Singapore guy sees I’m getting really upset and he interjects, “I think what he’s trying to say is that the Jews have overwhelming power over the US political system.”  Then the rest of the guys at the table all look at me, waiting for me to respond as if I owe them an explanation on behalf of world Jewry. Turkmenistan guy is smirking and almost pleased that he baited the Jew and put him in a position that he has to respond and explain why Jews have so much control over everything. I slammed my hand on the table and pointed my finger in his face and said, “Fuck you. To say something like that, especially in Poland, just disgusting.” I thought quickly to myself that this is not a teaching moment. This is a moment where you remove yourself.  I don’t owe it to this table of adults in Poland to explain that Jews do not control the US economy or whatever. I expected more out of this guy but he’s also shown in the past that he’s a bit unstable. My therapist in New York used to say that I have a special skill that I can educate people about these things and I can see moments like these as opportunities. Maybe so. Not this time. Not in Poland. Not after I was in in Auschwitz. I walked out of the bar. I went back to the hostel and checked out immediately. I told the hostel worker that I was leaving immediately because my roommate said something antisemitic at the bar and I do not want to sleep in the same room with him or the other people who are sleeping in there.  They will never see me again. No worries.

I looked up a cheap hotel on the Hotels.com app and used my loyalty points I accumulated in Indonesia to get a deep discount.  I walked a few blocks to the hotel and checked in. I slept well and left the next morning for Warsaw.

At this point, I had to head to Warsaw to get anywhere else around Poland.  Connections to Lublin, the base for my next part of my experience, are best from Warsaw.  However, at this point, I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to be in Poland any longer. With the antisemitic restaurant in Sopot and now this experience in Krakow, I was certain that Poland was not a welcoming place for Jews, where Jews can guaranteed feel safe.  This was an illusion based on a reality that Pawel and others created for me, but rest of my reality was with people who really did not understand what went down in Poland before the war and during the war. They also did not care to know. Good individuals would make Poland welcoming for me and bad individuals in an insensitive environment would make me think otherwise.

I texted Hadar, in Israel, furiously.  She had just been in Poland for the Beyonce and Jay-Z concert.   I gave her the details. I told her I wanted to leave and never come back. She asked me realistically when the next time I’d be in Poland would be and how I should complete my journey now and go to my ancestral town for the Graf side.  Don’t give up. I was ready to skip it. She recommended to spend the weekend in Warsaw to reset and then head to Jozefow after I’ve chilled out. This was really excellent advice. I’m quite glad I followed it.  I’ll be forever grateful to Hadar for being there during a very needy and serious moment for me. I decided to book a very quick trip to the Lublin region but immediately book five days in Berlin after that.  This would guaranteed that I have to leave Poland and I will give myself a break from all of this Poland stuff that’s happening.