Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

And we're back...

I arrived in Lviv at 5:30am after eight hours on the train sitting across from a gorgeous Ukranian woman. She spoke great English and gave me tea and beer. Definitely the most pleasant train ride I've had. After checking into my hostel I decided to head to the town square and watch the town wake up.


Four hours later I realized that this town was on a different schedule than I'm used to. Around 9am People began trickling out of their apartments, opening up their shops and cafes, and piling into the trams (I love trams) to get to work. During those four hours I walked over to a beautiful cemetery I had read about. It was closed, not surprisingly, but I went in anyway cause I'm a tourist and I don't know any better (I did, but I can act clueless). The oldest grave I saw was frm 1779.


After the graveyard I went searching for the local synagogue, as has become customary in every city I visit. The one here was in horrible shape, and a nice old lady I met explained to me that the roof had been torn off a couple of years ago by a strong wind and only recently had they raised enough money to fix it, so the inside was in bad shape. Not to mention it was used as a stable for horses during the war.


Next up was a hike to High Castle, where there is no castle, but a spectacular view over the city. It's a much bigger city than it seems, especially if you keep to the old city.


Later I met a couple of guys, Frederick from France and Robin from Austria, in my hostel who were going out to a bar and I decied to join them. It was a really cool, kitschy old bar where the bouncer says something like "Glory to Ukraine" and you have to respond "Geroyim Slava" or, "Glory to the people." Inside was a lively group of locals, and later, some lively music to which everyone sang along. We met a couple Ukranian girls there. I made it back to the hostel around 4am.


Needless to say, the next day I was pretty exhausted. Good thing I had a cafe day planned. I hopped around from one cafe to another, each having its own theme and unique atmosphere, along with (what I've learned since moving West) cheap coffee. Halfway through the day I met up with Frederick who joined my cafe hopping. We ate dinner at this awesome Ukranian cafeteria. I left for Krakow the next morning at 7:30.


And that was my Lviv experience. For a big city it has a surprisingly small, laid back feel, which was just what I needed after all those trains and all those huge cities. The coffee was good, the beer and vodka were cheap, and the people were lovely. I'm very glad I got a chance to see Ukraine's second city. It is definitely a special place.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Krakow - All it's cracked up to be?

I don't really know if I'm ready to write about this. Maybe because I haven't had enough time to reflect, maybe because I'm having so much fun traveling that the somber feeling doesn't last. Maybe because it will never be written about the way it should be. But I will try.

Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.

2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.

Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.

First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.

The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.

Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.

But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.

On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.

Auschwitz. No longer an image.

If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.

I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.

I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.

Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.

Europe! Oh, sweet Europe. I can't tell you how excited I was to finally be in Kiev. Hostels a-plenty, public trashcans, good beer, plentiful coffee, western toilets, interesting architetcture... Kiev did not disappoint. I booked a hostel online and, after a good 45 minutes of trying to find the place, set my bags down in a lovely, quiet place run by three wonderful Ukranian girls. I arrived at 3pm, utterly exhausted, but I figured I shouldn't waste what was left of the day. I walked around the city a bit, marveling at the colorful buildings, looking for something I hadn't seen in 6 months: a synagogue. I found it easily enough, had a look around, and decided to come back the next morning (saturday) for services.


Back at the hostel I met my new roommates, Colin and Josh from Missouri and Seattle respectively.


Josh let me play his guitar, which I hadn't done since a week before leaving Korea. Later, Colin and I went out to see some live Ukranian rock music at a local bar. The beer and tunes were great, the honey and pepper vodka was cheap and harsh. Still, I managed to get to bed early, and I had a good nights sleep, finally, on a comfortable bed.


The next day I woke up and went to services. Geez, I haven't done that since I was 13 years old. It was pretty amazing. I'm not religious at all, but I have a very strong connection with the Jewish community, culture, and heritage. Nothing in my six months abroad was as comforting as walking into that synagogue on Saturday morning. It was as close to home as I'd been since I left. I knew the people, I knew the songs, I even remembered some of the words. I knew the dovenning and the mumbling and the big, bushy beards (I definitely fit in). I'm not religious at all, but it was comforting to be in the presence of those who were, of those who came before me and those who will come after me, of the traditions that connect us all, no matter where we come from or what we believe.

After the service I took a walk around the city. Through parks, green and gorgeous; cathedrals, clean and colorful; up and over hills with fantastic views of the city.


I stumbled upon this amazing stree lined with paintings by local artists.


I followed it for a long while to a gorgeous church perched high above the city, then down a winding cobblestone road back to town. Then, stopping along the main street to sit on a bench and listen to some street jazz, I ran into Colin again. For a city of 2 million, its pretty small. Not really, its a sprawling metropolis, its just the old city that's small, and that's where I spent my time. Anyway, we had some dinner and headed back to the hostel.

Before coming to Kiev there were three things I knew I wanted to see there. One was Chernobyl. Tours cost in the €120 range, which was way too expensive for me, so I decided to pass on that. Besides, I don't really need the radiation. The second was Babi Yar, site of one of the first and one of the largest mass killings of Jews during the second world war.


Today its a park, with a few monuments remembering those kiilled. Unfortunately there's not much to see, or even to feel. Even that feeling of something terrible happened here never came to me. Whether its denial or acceptance, forgetting or moving on, the people of Kiev have turned this blood-soaked ravine into a tranquil place for a Sunday stroll. Not at all what I was expecting, but really everything I could have hoped for. A real and complete transition from war to peace. Oh, and I had the best pizza I've ever had for dinner.

The third thing I wanted to see was the Lavra Monastery. Built originally underground in the 11th century, over the next few centuries this compound evolved into a sanctuary for gorgeous churches.


The caves dug by the first monks became their tombs, which you can delve into if you please. I did, and it was one of the more thrilling, creepy, and strange experiences I've had. There were two almost pitch black passageways underground, each with small santctuaries, rooms where the monks lived, and narrow halls linking them all together. Lining the walls were the coffins of the clergy (the flash really takes away the creepy atmosphere). Above ground, the churches were beautiful and the scenery fantastic. I spent most of the day there before boarding the train in the evening.


While I was in Kiev I found out that the route to Krakow requires a train change in Lviv, Ukraine's "most beautiful city." So I decided to end my stay in Kiev a little early and spend some time there.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Lviv - Ukraine's most beautiful city?