Too comfortable

I didn't know what visiting the actual museum part of Yad Vashem would be like after my trip. I knew that specific places and pictures would be much more real to me, and I knew that going into the museum, I would feel more confident about the general history and also about how my grandparents' histories fit into the larger picture of the war. But what I came away realizing was instead something so simple, so disheartening, but something I've probably been ignoring for the past 6 weeks: not everyone cares as much as I do.

Yad Vashem's main museum is set up along a long, wide glass and cement hallway, but to get to the end of the hallway, you must follow the exhibits as they wind left and right and cross through the central hallway where you can look both back and forward in "time." At one point while walking through the exhibit, I looked ahead to see a big group of people (who looked about my age) standing around talking, laughing--one guy was even dancing. To say the least, I was disgusted, but I said to myself that I would try to avoid that group.

Then, in another section of the museum, I encountered two members of that group sitting on chairs (meant for those who want to listen to recorded testimony) with their feet up, talking like they were in any coffee-shop down the street. They didn't bother to whisper, instead, were loud and disrespectful. I decided to say something to them because I was becoming extremely distracted, so I told them that if they wanted to talk, that there's a place for that--outside the museum. The two apologized and got up, but that wasn't the end of it.

In the next room, the room that began to describe the transports from the ghettos and the first death camps, I encountered two guys sitting right at the entrance, sharing headphones and bobbing their heads along to music on an iPod. Then, after turning the corner, I saw two circles of people from the same group, talking and laughing and using their cell phones--right in the middle of the exhibit! I looked for a security guard before talking to them myself, since I felt that it wasn't my responsibility to keep chasing after this group--that's not why I went to visit the museum. After seeing that the three security guards of the museum were at the other end of the building also standing in a circle and talking, I decided to say something. I stood behind one of the circles, and the people didn't even notice I was there until I spoke. They were totally in their own world. I told them that if they weren't interested, that they could leave the museum. There was no point in being disrespectful and disturbing other people who came to the museum to learn. One guy asked if I worked there, and I said no, that I came because my grandparents were all survivors and it's something that I care about. They called me disrespectful for interrupting their conversation. Only after most of them walked away did one girl come up to me and apologize, saying that the group was tired and "needed a break." Later, one of the guys also apologized, saying that he understood where I was coming from, but "the girls talk too much."

I honestly don't know if they understood what I was trying to tell them, and that's a little scary. If I was in their position, I would never make up bad excuses, and no matter how embarrassing, I think the least I would do was admit I was wrong. It's frustrating that I had to tell people my age how to act in a Holocaust museum--like it's not totally obvious. I just find it so hard to believe that not one member of their group had the sense to tell the rest what I was trying to tell them. I don't know if this group was an exception, but I know it's not the first time I've had to deal with disrespectful visitors to a Holocaust museum--I just hope it's the last.

Moving on

Today was my last Shabbat of the trip--I can't believe it! I also can't believe that I'll be home this time next week.

Anyway, a quick note about something I noticed today. Throughout the trip in Eastern Europe, we would encounter places where the pre-war Jewish community was an extremely high percentage of the total population, but it was always hard to imagine what it would be like to live in such a place before the war. We would visit areas of town that were almost completely inhabited by Jewish people, and it would be hard to imagine how house after house was a Jewish home. With that in mind, being in Jerusalem, I think I can get a taste of what that life must have been like--especially on Shabbat. With few cars driving, it's quiet, and walking outside, one mostly sees groups of people walking to and from synagogue, walking to others' houses, or just enjoying the day off. I think this must be what Shabbat in the Jewish areas of towns had been like. Definitely a (comfortable) change from old men reading newspapers and high security to get into synagogue!

Tomorrow will be my last day at Yad Vashem--I'll look if they have any information about the Partisans that would have been around where Grandma Esther was from, and I'll also fill out pages of testimony (with names of people who were killed, and the way I found Sima)--something that I should have done a while ago. I'm also going to go through the museum, which should be an interesting experience, especially at the end of this trip. Then it's time for kippah (yarmulke) shopping for my brothers. More later!

!שבת שלום

I always forget how early Shabbat starts in Jerusalem, so I only have time for a really quick post!

This morning I went to our family friends' house for brunch--the Bergsons if any of you know of them. Their oldest son was home from the army so I got to see the whole family, and after we ate we went to the weekly Jerusalem street party. This week it was just outside the big mall and was beach themed, which meant sand, water from the air, and beach balls. There was music, but for two specified hours, you were only able to hear it if you wore noise-canceling headphones that they were giving out. Meaning...if you didn't have the headphones, it just looked like a lot of people were dancing to nothing! It was strange and funny to watch. The party was a lot of fun, but now it's time for Shabbat. Dinner's at one of Renee's friends, and I think I'll (finally) get a chance to sleep late tomorrow.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem!

We are family

When I woke up this morning, it was hard for me to remember if what happened yesterday was real or just a dream. I think I'll have the exact same feeling tomorrow morning.

Sima and Leah (Zayde's first cousins) live in a nursing home in Rishon L'Tzion, just outside of Tel Aviv. Renee (my mom's friend) happened to be going to Tel Aviv today, so it worked out that she could drive me there, and then Dov (Leah's son) would meet me and take me to meet his mom and aunt. On the way to Tel Aviv, I tried to think of all the questions I wanted to ask Sima and Leah, but I didn't know what to expect--if they would remember things about him and his family, if they knew what happened to him during the war--and besides that, I kept thinking about how crazy it was that one day I call someone and say we're probably related, and the very next day I'm going to meet him! When we arrived at our meeting spot in Tel Aviv, Dov was waiting outside his car to meet me, and the instant we met and began talking, it was like I was talking to someone I had known for years. On the way to the nursing home, he told me that his wife, Rachel, and older sister, Miriam, would be joining us there with Sima and Leah.

Shortly after Dov and I arrived at the nursing home and sat down at a table outside, Sima walked outside to join us--we hugged and she kissed me and we starting talking. Right away, she started saying how Zayde and her were like brother and sister, that before the war, she used to stay at his house in Szczebrzeszyn every summer, and after the war, they always kept in touch. She described Zayde's parents as very nice people, owners of a clothing store, who lived in a large house in Szczebrzeszyn. She said that the family used to make clothes for all the important people in the town. She remembered Zayde's 3 brothers by name (Rachmiel, Hirsch, and Yitzchak), and remembered that one of them was married with young children. After Zayde married Milka, he moved to Zamosc since her family lived there, and he had his own tailor shop. Sima said that by the time the war started, Zayde and Milka's son, Chaim, was already grown. She even remembered how Chaim was named: the same night that Zayde's maternal grandfather, Chaim, died, Zayde's son was born, so he was named Chaim after his great-grandfather.

At some point, Sima's sister, Leah, Leah's daughter, Miriam, and Dov's wife, Rachel, joined us, and they were all excited to meet me and hear what we were talking about. Leah, right when she saw me, commented on how I looked just liked Zayde (By the way, they all knew Zayde as Tewel). I told them that my dad and I had been to Zamosc and Szczebrzeszyn, and I showed Sima and Leah pictures from the center of the city. None of them had been back after the war, so they were very excited to see pictures of how the city looks today.

I asked Sima if she knew what happened to Zayde during the war. She said that when the war started, everyone knew that they had to run away somewhere, and most people went to Russia. Zayde's mother came to Sima's house and told her that the family was leaving and that she had to come with them. Sima's parents weren't home, and Sima didn't want to leave without them, so Zayde's mother went back home, her family never managed to escape, and they were all killed. Sima's family escaped to Russia, and that's how she was able to survive with her whole family. After the war, Sima's family was in Germany and heard that Zayde was still alive, so got in touch with him and then lived near each other in Germany--that's when Sima heard from Zayde what happened to everyone. Zayde stayed in Zamosc with his wife and Chaim, and at some point, Chaim was killed. Zayde's wife found out first, and she had to be the one to tell Zayde. Later, she was also killed. Then, everyone was sent to various camps, and since Zayde was a skilled worker, he worked in the camps, but only up until a certain point, when everyone was put on a train to what they understood was their deaths. Zayde jumped off the train, injured both of his legs, but managed to escape. At some point, he was caught and sent to Terezin, but he was liberated shortly thereafter.

When Sima's family and Zayde met again in post-war Germany, Sima said that Zayde had already been married to Grandma Esther and that they already had a son (Henry), and that the other was born later (Mickey). I asked Sima if she knew what happened to Grandma Esther during the war, and she said that the only thing that she knew was that she had been a Partisan (!), and that the war was an extremely difficult time for her. That's why, when she and Zayde met after the war, and they were each alone, they decided to marry and start new lives together. Sima's family moved to Israel in 1947 or 1948, and when it came time for Zayde and Grandma Esther to leave Germany, Zayde wrote to Sima asking if he should move to Israel. Sima wrote to him that she should go to America, because he would find more opportunities for work there. Ever since then, Sima and Zayde kept in touch, and when things were hard in Israel, Zayde would send a package--Miriam and Dov always remember that as children, a package from Tewel in America meant something special, and Miriam told me that she has framed pictures of herself wearing dresses that Zayde made and sent to her. When Zayde and Grandma Esther visited Israel, they spent their time with Sima's family, and when it came time for them to go back to New Jersey, Zayde would be so upset to be leaving Sima. She described him as smart, but also humble--he wouldn't try to tell you something or teach you something just to show you that he was smart.

I don't know how long we talked for, but it seemed like time just stopped and we were in a dream. I really can't describe it any other way. I brought pictures of Zayde and Grandma Esther with the American branches of the family, and they were all so interested in learning about everyone and hearing where everyone is. Dov and his wife will be in New York in September and they want to meet everyone! On one hand, it's crazy to think that from yesterday to today, it's like our family had doubled in size--but on the other hand, this whole branch of the family was always there, but somehow, our connection was broken. We all agreed that this time, the connection wouldn't be broken.

After I said goodbye (actually l'hitraot, Hebrew for "see you later") to Sima, Leah, Rachel, and Miriam, Dov and I met Dov's youngest son, Roy, for dinner. He's 23, so he's the closest in age to my brothers and me. Again, it was like talking to someone I've known for years. It's made me realize that even after years of a lost connection, years after not even knowing relatives existed, years of telling people I didn't have relatives in Israel--even after all of that, family is family.

Laughing with Sima

Leah's daughter, Miriam, and son, Dov

L-R: Miriam, Rachel, Leah, Dov, Sima

L-R: Miriam, Rachel, Leah, Me, Sima

Remember the day the sun came out in Szczebrzeszyn?

Let me quickly tell you what I did this morning since I'll want to go into detail about my extremely exciting afternoon. I went back to Yad Vashem to do some more research, and while I was largely unsuccessful in finding out more information about Grandma Esther (I only found one document related to her and it requires further analysis), I was able to visit the office of the Righteous Among the Nations. There I saw the original testimony and documentation related to Marisia's being honored at Yad Vashem, and I made some copies of letters I hadn't seen before.

Anyway, this afternoon my search for Zayde's cousin continued. The back-story: A woman named Sima Keniger (nee Roitman) had posted about the deaths of Zayde's brothers and mother on the Yad Vashem website in 1999, and listed herself as a niece of Zayde's mother (making her Zayde's first cousin). While there was a contact number on the posting, the same number today is that of a kitchen supply store. Yesterday, I tried searching on the Israeli white pages for the last name Keniger, but no Sima showed up. Today, I decided that I couldn't give up until I called each Keniger on the list and asked if they were related to Sima. I started going down the list, and after 3 unanswered calls and 1 woman who only spoke Yiddish, I decided to call a man named Joseph Keniger, since it would be more likely that a male Keniger would be related to Sima rather than a female. I asked Joseph Keniger if he was related to Sima, and he said that he was. I asked if she was his mother, and he said that she was something like a great aunt. He asked me my name, and I told him why I was calling, and then asked if Sima had children. He told me that she never had kids, but that her sister, Leah had two children. Then I asked him the question that I was dreading to hear the answer to: if Sima (or now also her sister) was still alive. He replied that he didn't know, since he stopped talking to that side of the family many years ago. But he did happen to have Leah's son's phone number, so he was next on the list to call.

When I called the number that Joseph gave me, Dov Shefer, Leah's son, picked up. I asked him if he was related to Sima Keniger, and he told me that she's his aunt--Leah's sister. He asked why I wanted to know, and I told him that I believed my grandpa and his mother and aunt were first cousins. He asked me what my grandpa's name was, and I told him Tobias Zylberman. "Tobias Zylberman...I've heard that name before," was his response. You can imagine how many emotions I was feeling just then! And then, the question I dreaded to ask Joseph Keniger, I could barely ask Dov--I was too nervous to hear the answer. He heard how I hesitated, and he understood what I wanted to ask. "They're still alive, in their 90's, and they live in a nursing home now. But they're sharp and clear." Well, it felt like my heart was about to pound right out of my chest. What a feeling it is to know that you've just made contact with family, and to know that a grandparent's family member is still alive! But then came the most surprising, most exciting, and the most mind-blowing. Dov said that a month ago, Sima was talking about her life and mentioned a Tewel (anther name for Tobias) Zylberman who used to send things when there were hard times in Israel and visited her when he came to Israel. Dov told me that Sima mentioned where he was from--"Sheshin maybe?" Szczebrzeszyn! Dov and his wife talked about trying to reconnect with Tewel's family, but they had no idea how to start looking for him in America.

When I told my dad that Dov said that all this happened a month ago, he realized...weren't we in Zamosc a month ago? I checked to see where we went exactly a month ago, and what do you know--that was the day we found Zayde's birth record and visited the synagogue and cemetery in Szczebrzeszyn. What are the chances of that!

Anyway, if that all isn't enough, I'm so excited to go visit Dov and his sister Miriam (my dad's and uncle's second cousins), Sima and Leah (Zayde's first cousins) and Dov's and Miriam's families (my third cousins) tomorrow! Yes, I'll be meeting everyone tomorrow afternoon. It's really unbelievable that I managed to find these cousins, and that Sima and Leah are still here. My family has never been this big--I can't wait to meet everyone tomorrow!

Act IV begins

It's been a crazy 24 hours! I won't bore you with the details of my trip from Prague to Israel, but basically, the flight left at 11:15pm and arrived in Israel at around 4 am with an hour ahead time different. You can guess how tired I was after little sleep on the plane! One quick note about the ride: when I sat down in my seat, I noticed a red Star of David on one of the overhead compartments--probably where a first-aid kit is kept. But my first reaction was, "Why is there a star there? Either it's vandalism or there's some Jewish significance." I guess that's what a long trip in Eastern Europe can do to you! Anyway, after a long wait in passport control, I finally was able to pick up my bag and leave the airport for Jerusalem, where I'm staying for the next week. I'm staying with my mom's friend--also named Renee--and I arrived here at about 6:30am. I decided it would be best for me to take a nap, so after a quick breakfast and shower, I ended up sleeping until 10:30.

As I mentioned in earlier posts, my time here in Israel is for further research but also relaxation, and so my first stop after lunch (and an unsuccessful attempt to contact Zayde's cousin here) was my friend Abby's apartment! That's when it hit me that it was only the second time in five and a half weeks that I talked to someone my age. I went back tonight--it was so nice to finally have some time to catch up with friends.

After Abby's I made my way over to Yad Vashem. I decided that I should make use of a couple free hours today to visit the library at Yad Vashem to assess what's there and how much time I'll need to spend there in the coming days. I think I mentioned at some point that at Yad Vashem, anyone can use the library facilities, including the International Tracing Service (ITS) database, and that's the main reason why I'm doing work there. The International Tracing Service is a database that contains wartime and post-war documents that were, for many years, held in Germany, but were recently released to Yad Vashem and the US Holocaust Museum in Washington. The museum in Washington accepts online requests to have the database searched for submitted names, last names, etc., but the results of these searches often take up to a year to be returned. At Yad Vashem though, I'm able to search the database myself...and I now know why these requests take so long to be returned. There's so much to look through! The database contains documents related to all kinds of different places, time periods, groups of people, and more, and I think if I didn't know what I wanted to find, it would be overwhelming to search. I think, though, that I'm only going to search for a limited set of things (mainly information about Grandma Esther and Zayde's first family), because otherwise, I could spend ages looking through all the documents.

Tomorrow is back to Yad Vashem to see what I can find, and more attempts to get in contact with Zayde's cousin. Wish me luck!

Act III close

I'm blogging a little earlier than usual today since I have a late flight to Israel (!) and I'm not sure what the airport internet situation will be.

This morning, I said goodbye to my mom, and then spent most of my last day in Europe visiting the former ghetto and concentration camp in Terezin. As I learned, Terezin was first built as a military fortress and garrison town in the 18th century by Maria Theresa's son, hence the name, Terezin. The town was built in two parts: a smaller fortress, which served as a prison of enemies of the Hapsburg empire, and a larger fortress, which was a town with barracks for soldiers. When the Nazis overtook the fortresses during the Second World War, they were completely intact, and they realized that they didn't have to move a brick in order to turn the smaller and larger fortresses into a concentration camp and a ghetto. So, in 1940, the Nazis began to use the smaller fortress as a prison for political prisoners, and the larger fortress starting in 1941 as a Jewish ghetto. Besides the historical value of visiting the site, one main reason why I visited Terezin is that Zayde was an inmate at the Terezin ghetto at the end of 1945, and he was liberated from there as well--but more on that soon.

For those of you who have visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, you might remember that the place is often crowded with huge tourist groups talking and taking pictures, and also that many buildings at the former camp were reconstructed after the war. For those reasons, it was hard for me to imagine during my visit how the camp would have been like when it was operating during the war. Terezin, however, has remained completely intact since the war, and from what I saw today, is less frequently visited, so all the barracks and prison cells at the smaller fortress were open for viewing. This made the site very real, and on one hand, it was not hard to picture the events that took place in such a dark, fortified prison. On the other hand, the town of Terezin is situated in what's the otherwise picturesque Czech Republic, and today being a beautiful sunny day, it was hard to block out the beauty of the surroundings when looking at things like barracks, tiny prison cells, and false washrooms that the Nazis built to show to visiting officials.

The larger fortress, which is the former ghetto, though now a regular town, still contains all the buildings of the ghetto. I visited the archives at the Ghetto Museum to see if they could help me find anything about Zayde's time in Terezin. The man at the archives looked up Zayde's name and quickly found that Zayde arrived in Terezin on April 19th, 1945, just a little under a month from when he would be liberated. Still, even though he was only in Terezin for a few weeks, as I learned, the time that he was there was a very difficult one. Beginning on April 20th, 1945, transports arrived from concentration camps all over in what were called "Evacuation Transports"--the Nazis attempt to move their prisoners further from the lines of the approaching Allies. In these few weeks, the Nazis scrambled to murder however many people they could, and these transports to Terezin were such an attempt. Zayde may have been in one of these such transports, although it's a mystery to me why he arrived a day before these transports officially began.

In the former ghetto, I was able to walk the streets and see the buildings that Zayde very likely saw when he was in Terezin. For example, the site of the end of the rail lines into Terezin--this was where he would have gotten off the train and arrived in Terezin, and the surrounding buildings are exactly as they were in 1945. I was also able to see a recently discovered "secret synagogue," a small prayer room in the back of a building that was used covertly during the war. The walls of the room are painted with quotes from the Torah and the prayer services, and it was amazing to think of the people that stood in the same room, just a few decades earlier. As many of you probably know, Terezin was the ghetto that was used as the "show" ghetto for the Nazis--the same ghetto that was beautified and displayed to Red Cross officials in person and in the propaganda film, "A Gift of a Town." If only these officials had opened their eyes a little wider, perhaps Terezin would not have gone down in history as a place with two faces: a beautified exterior and a dark, cold, destructive interior. One last note--as I mentioned before, Terezin is a walled town, and you might remember that Zamosc, Zayde's place of living before the war, was a fortified town as well. The fortifications and layouts of the towns are hauntingly similar, and I wonder if Zayde had thought of this at all when he was imprisoned at Terezin.

Anyway, this will be my final post from Europe and my final post about this leg of the trip. The next and final leg will be a week in Israel, where I'm not only going to relax and see friends, but I also plan on visiting the Yad Vashem museum and archives to take in everything I've experienced as well as explore paths to more discovery. I'm sad to be leaving Europe, but I know that I'll have such a warm feeling of relief the moment I touch down in Israel. I can't wait!

Synagogues and more synagogues (and a castle)

A famous Jewish joke goes something like this (Uncle N., correct me if I'm wrong): A Jewish man was shipwrecked alone on an island. Years later, when a rescue crew finally found him, the man gave them a tour of the island, making sure to point out the two synagogues he had built. They asked why there were two synagogues for one man, and, pointing to one of them, the man responded, "Oh, that's the one I don't go to." Visiting the former Jewish quarter of Prague reminded me of the punchline of this joke. There are seven surviving synagogues in Prague, six of which are basically right next to each other--the furthest ones apart are maybe only a block apart. We toured four of the six, and each has a distinct character and unique contemporary use. We started with the Spanish Synagogue, named for its Spanish-Moorish architecture, which features a sparkling gold interior and a Jewish historical museum. Next was the Pinkas Synagogue, whose walls are covered with painted names of Czech Jewish Holocaust victims. We saw the Old Jewish Cemetery, home to thousands of gravestones dating back to the 15th-18th centuries, the continued to the Klausen Synagogue, with a beautiful baroque interior that's now home to a museum of Jewish ritual, culture, and celebration. Last was the Maisel Synagogue, a neo-gothic building that houses a museum of Jewish life specifically in Prague. They were all beautifully restored, and it was nice to see that just like in Krakow, there were so many different kinds of people touring these places and interested in the history. Still, it was a little eerie. On one hand, it was hard for me to picture someone taking all the seats out of my own synagogue at home, replacing them with glass cases filled with old pictures and ritual objects, and charging tourists money to enter the building. I can only imagine what the community members of these synagogues would think if they knew what had become of their synagogues. On the other hand, with such a small Jewish community in the Czech Republic, this is probably the best way that these synagogues can be preserved--if not as prayer houses, than as museums.

We spent the second half of the day seeing some more of the city by car and then visiting Prague Castle and the Lobkowicz Palace. The castle is like a city unto itself, and the Lobkowicz Palace is part of that city. It's a building that now houses a collection of art that was regained by the Lobkowicz family in restitution--first from the Nazis after the second World War and then from the Communists after the fall of the Soviet Union. It was an impressive collection, and the audio guide was narrated by Mr. William Lobkowicz himself, so we got to hear from him how wealthy his family really was (and now again is).

Later, we returned to the Spanish Synagogue for a concert of all types of music, including the song that helped inspire the tune of Hatikvah, Israel's national anthem, "My Country--Vlatava" by Bedrich Smetana. Tomorrow, my mom departs Prague to return to Chicago, but I'll visit Theresienstadt, the camp from where Zayde was liberated in 1945, and then fly to Israel at night. I can't believe that tomorrow is my last day in Europe, but hopefully it will be an educational and meaningful one. More later!

Exterior of the Spanish Synagogue

Outside the Pinkas Synagogue

The Maisel Synagogue

The Altneuschul--the Synagogue we attended on Shabbat

Not a synagogue, but the cathedral of the Prague Castle

Back at the Spanish Synagogue for an evening concert

Old places, new faces

Even though we weren't planning on going to the Altneuschul (Old-New Synagogue) for services last night, we ended up going anyway. It was packed there! I'm sure I'll learn more tomorrow, as we're going on a tour of Jewish Prague in the morning, but from what I understand, the Altneuschul was built around 1270 and is the oldest active synagogue in Europe. Inside, there's a vaulted ceiling and two stone pillars supporting a central Bimah (Torah reading stand). The men sit around all the walls of the main room and around the Bimah, and the women sit in a separate room with windows facing into the main hall--in medieval times, when the synagogue was built, it was customary for women to sit in a separate room, as opposed to on a separate side or on a balcony, as is now customary in Orthodox synagogues. Anyway, the synagogue was filled with people visiting from all around the world, as well as people who live in the community. After synagogue we went to the Dinitz restaurant for dinner, and were joined by many others who also attended services...including a husband and wife whose last name was also Silberman! We compared notes about family origins and it turns out that we're not closely related (or related at all), but it was funny to meet another family with the same last name.

This morning we went back to the same synagogue for morning services, and between there and lunch at the same restaurant, met some more people who were visiting and who live in the community, including a professor from Georgetown and his wife, and the U.S. ambassador to the Czech Republic. The ambassador is Jewish and religious, and it turns out that his parents were both Holocaust survivors from Prague! The ambassador's residence, where he lives, was originally built by a wealthy Jewish family, and then was used as the Nazi headquarters in Prague during the war, and then converted into the ambassador's residence, which now houses a Kosher kitchen for the ambassador and his family. It's amazing how his family story and the house's story have both come full-circle.

Later we had a walking tour of the Old Town district of Prague, and we were able to get an idea of where we're staying in relation to everything else. We walked along the river, the Charles Bridge, and through the main square and Old Town streets. The architecture here is of the most impressive I've seen on this trip, and it's amazing how so many buildings here date back to the middle ages! The guide that led us around today will be our guide for the next two days when we tour Jewish Prague and the castle and then when I tour Terezin on Monday. I'm excited--she's very funny! She gave us a good way to remember some of the characteristics of certain architectural styles: she described me as Gothic (tall and narrow) and herself as Baroque (more..."well-fed" I'll say) or nearing on late-Baroque or Rococo. Now that's one to remember!

So long (farewell) Salzburg!

Preface: For the first time on this trip, we're at a hotel that does not offer Wifi in the rooms! We'll only have internet for an hour at a time in certain parts of the hotel, so I can't promise a lot of blogging.

Anyway, this morning we said goodbye to Salzburg and hello to the Czech Republic. Our first stop was in Cesky Krumlov, a small historic town near the border with Austria. The town is situated on both sides of a river that loops in a half-circle through the town. The weather was beautiful, so we were able to walk around the town's narrow streets and climb the castle hill to see the view from the top. Up there is also the castle's Baroque Theater, one of only two such preserved theaters in the world! We were able to see the inside, and it's amazing how detailed the sets and scenery were, and how everything is rigged to come together during a performance through 18th-century sound effect machines, set engineering, and lighting.

We continued the drive to Prague, and arrived here about an hour ago! We're here until Monday. Tonight we have dinner at a Kosher restaurant around the corner from our hotel, tomorrow we'll go to services at the Altneuschul ("Old-New Synagogue," a 13th century synagogue and home of the Golem!) and then have lunch back at the restaurant, before a walking tour of the Jewish quarter. I'll try to update tomorrow night, but for now, some pictures, and Shabbat Shalom from Prague!

The castle in Cesky Krumlov

View of the town from the castle

Yes, we took this ourselves

Mama Manya and Mozart, Papa Joe and Parsch

I'll start with the weather. The forecast for today was rain all day, so when we left our room in the morning, we bundled up in our raincoats and brought umbrellas. There's a saying about the weather in Salzburg (or so our guidebook claims): "If you can see the castle, it's about to rain. If you can't see it, it's already raining." The good news is...it never rained today! The bad news is...we had to carry around raincoats and umbrellas all day. But that's definitely better than walking in the rain.

Today was the "following in their footsteps" day in Salzburg, so our first goal was to see the areas of the 4 DP camps where Papa Joe and Mama Manya lived: Riedenburg, Hallein, Beth-Bialik, and New Palestine. We're pretty sure that Papa Joe started off in Riedenburg and Mama Manya in Hallein, and after they were married, moved to New Palestine. At some point, they were in Beth-Bialik, but that may have just been from where they left to America in 1950. Today, Riedenburg is a neighborhood with a military base in its center, Beth-Bialik is a brewery, Hallein is a small industrial town, and New Palestine is a residential neighborhood called Parsch. We had an address for Mama Manya and Papa Joe's home in Parsch/New Palestine, but unfortunately the building where they lived no longer exists. We did, however, find a small park right around the corner from where their home used to be...which brings me to what was our next goal! That was reenacting all of the pictures we have of Mama Manya and Papa Joe from Salzburg. Many of these pictures were of Mama Manya and Papa Joe in front of recognizable landscapes and famous buildings, and it was easy to find the approximate locations to reenact those. Other (many) pictures were of both of them on park benches, so when we saw the park right around the corner from their address in Parsch, we knew that this was a likely location of all those bench pictures! Our results are below--we think we did a pretty good job!

We next walked around the old town of Salzburg and got to see some of the famous Mozart-related sites--because even though Vienna also claims Mozart as their own, he was born and grew up in Salzburg. We then continued walking in the footsteps of Mama Manya and Papa Joe by sitting in a cafe near Mozart square, looking up towards the Salzburg fortress--something that our good family friend, born in Salzburg after the war, told us that Mama Manya, Papa Joe, and friends used to enjoy doing. We then did probably the most important thing to follow in Mama Manya's footsteps, at least, and that was shop! Mama Manya bought a lot of nice things in Salzburg, and we thought we would do the same. We ended the day with a horse-drawn carriage ride through the town and a walk through the Mirabell gardens, the filming site for the "Do-Re-Mi" scene in The Sound of Music. Overall, though our visit to Salzburg was short, it made us realize why Mama Manya and Papa Joe had such happy memories from here. It's not only a beautiful place, it's also small and quiet, and also with art and culture (Uncle N.--you can be proud to be a Salzburger!). We decided that Salzburg is definitely a "come-back" place, a place we'd enjoy visiting again and again. Who wants to plan our next trip?

Papa Joe in front of the Salzach River

Me in front of the Salzach River

Mama Manya on Monchsberg Mountain

Us on Monchsberg Mountain

One of the typical park bench pictures

How did we do?

Sounds of Music

This morning we left Vienna and drove to Salzburg, known to many as the setting for The Sound of Music (more on that later) and to us as the place where Mama Manya and Papa Joe met, married, and had their first child, my uncle, Norman. We arrived at our hotel at noon, and although it didn't (and hasn't) stopped raining since then, it's clear that Salzburg is a beautiful city! It's situated right at the foot of the Alps, and unlike other cities, where imposing beauty comes from man-made structures, Salzburg's beauty is natural--parks, gardens, mountains, lakes, rivers, Salzburg has it all.

But no tour of Salzburg could be complete without seeing a few of Salzburg's...favorite things. The great American classic that it is, The Sound of Music alone draws so many tourists to Salzburg that there's an official Sound of Music tour! This was our first stop in Salzburg. We climbed on the Sound of Music-painted bus and rode all over Salzburg and its surrounding areas, seeing many of the filming locations for the movie. I hadn't seen the movie in a long time, but of course, there was a video and soundtrack refresher on our tour bus. The whole thing was pretty cheesy (a joke the tour guide told: the Hill family was stranded one night, and a vampire invited them into his house. While they were sleeping, he bit their necks and sucked their blood, and then went to play piano. When the family appeared alive behind him, he said, "How is that possible? I thought I killed you!" Mr. Hill replied, "The Hills are alive with the sound of music.") but it made for a good time. It was amazing, though, how much of a tourist infrastructure is set up just around this movie. We stopped in one small town at the base of a mountain, called Mondsee, that happened to house the church where the wedding scene was filmed. Just because so many tourists come to see the church, the town is well kept, has a tourist center, and many shops with Sound of Music souvenirs. Anyway, at the end of the tour, we all received free brochures with maps and pictures of more filming locations, so we may have to check those out tomorrow!

Later, we went to Don Giovanni, a famous opera written by Mozart...performed by marionettes! Salzburg's Marionette Theater is famous for its work, and again, going back to The Sound of Music, it was the inspiration for the Lonely Goadheard scene of the movie. It was amazing how detailed the puppets were, and how much they could move around! By the end of the show, it felt like we were watching real people instead of puppets.

Going back to tomorrow: we'll be seeing more of the historic areas of Salzburg, but tomorrow is also when we'll see where all the different Displaced Persons camps were. Between the two of them, Mama Manya and Papa Joe were in 4 different locations in Salzburg: Riedenburg, Hallein, Beth-Bialik, and New Palestine, so hopefully we'll be able to see all of those. We also have an address for their apartment in New Palestine, so we're going to check that out as well! More later...

Our tour guide pointed out that Maria looks like she's about to sneeze!

The house and lake used for the back of the Von Trapp villa

In front of the infamous gazebo

The wedding church in Mondsee

Marionettes on display at the theater

Facades

Today we spent half of the day driving and walking around Vienna seeing the architectural highlights of the city, and half of the day walking around the areas with Jewish significance. Seeing the architectural highlights was nice--we not only got to see all the famous old city buildings (and those that were built to look old), but also newer ones, like those designed by Hundertwasser, a 20th-century Jewish-Austrian painter-turned-architect. Much of Hundertwasser's architectural philosophy stemmed from his thoughts about the environment and protection of the environment, so his buildings are made out of natural materials and are meant to integrate well with their natural surroundings.

The Jewish tour definitely shed a different light on the "perfect," proper character of Vienna. It was focused on the two eras of Jewish life in Vienna: that of the Middle Ages, and that of 19th-early 20th-centuries. In the Middle Ages category, we saw the former Jewish area in the middle of the city, as well as ruins from the synagogue that used to stand in the center of what's now called the Judenplatz. Today, the site of the Middle Ages synagogue is home to a Holocaust memorial: a cube of outward-facing books made of cement standing on a base listing the names of the camps where Vienna Jews were murdered. This memorial, although it's the most public memorial to Holocaust victims in Vienna (besides the more general Monument Against War and Facism), it's really not so public at all, and there were people sitting on its base, eating lunch, like it was another park bench. Similarly, it seemed that all over the city, the memorials to the former Viennese Jewish society and the current centers of Jewish life were kept hidden away. Unlike in cities in Poland, where it seemed that everyone knew what each monument was and the sites were well respected, it didn't seem that people here were as interested. But maybe that's because the sites of pre-war Jewish life that are still used by the Jewish community today are so closed off from the rest of society. The former huge Moorish Temple site on Tempelgasse now is home to a (police-guarded) Jewish school, a senior center, and a center to help poor people, as well as a synagogue--but the synagogue, as well as (from what we saw) the other synagogues in Vienna, are not visible from the street. Instead, they're prayer rooms inside other, larger buildings. We tried to enter the only existing pre-war synagogue, the Stadttempel, but it was closed except for two specific tours a day, and in order to even enter the synagogue complex (again, with a facade that looks like any other residential building), we had to go through a metal detector. Our tour guide kept mentioning that the police and security were only there basically "for show," that there was really no threat. I wasn't so sure that there would be an elaborate system of metal detectors and automatic doors without an existing threat.

Vienna also has no Holocaust museum, apparently because the Viennese government thinks that the topic of the Holocaust comprises so many different subjects and aspects, that there's no way to put it all together into one museum. Again, I wasn't so sure. When they did put together a small exhibit in the archives and documentation center, the exhibit focused heavily--not on pre-war Jewish life, or what happened to the Jews--but on the few Austrian people who went against the Nazis--the ones who didn't "just follow orders." It's amazing that this typical excuse was quickly handed over to the rest of the people--"that's how the Austrians are," we heard, "they will follow what the leader tells them." That just didn't cut it for me. Yes, it's true that in Poland there was also a focus on those who helped Jews, but in Poland the documented number of those who helped was much higher than in Austria (6,266 Polish vs. 88 Austrians), and there was always mention of and blame for those who didn't help--never excuses. Learning the Viennese (and perhaps greater Austrian) attitude towards all of this made me frustrated and uncomfortable. It didn't help that even from the Jewish community side of it, we weren't allowed to enter the Stadttempel, and that both the security and community members were unfriendly. It's hard to believe that in a place like Ukraine, it was easier to visit a synagogue than in a civilized, modern, "proper" place like Vienna--I guess it's too proper here.

Anyway, tomorrow our travels continue in the path of my grandparents as we head towards Salzburg! Mama Manya and Papa Joe met there, and were married there as well. I hear the hills are alive...

Am I on vacation or something?

Today was all sightseeing, so I won't go into too much detail about all the rooms of palaces I walked through or the paintings on the ceiling of the opera house. But a few quick notes (and pictures!):

My mom (re)arrived today! She'll be with me throughout our travels in Vienna, Salzburg, and Prague.

On the way back from the Mozart concert we saw tonight, we passed a film screening in a park near our hotel. They were showing "Atlantic Drift," a documentary about World War II-era Jews who fled from Vienna and Bratislava to board ships headed for Palestine. We didn't stay for the whole thing, but it was interesting that they were showing a movie like this in the park! I wish I knew which group organized the screening. Anyway, tomorrow we're seeing all the Jewish sites in Vienna, so I'll definitely write more after that. For now, enjoy the pictures!

Schonbrunn Palace

Exterior of the Opera Hall

Backstage at the opera

Opera Hall auditorium

Intermission room at the opera

Interior of the Konzerthaus, location of the Mozart concert

Yes, they all wore wigs like that!

Act III begins

My fifth and last Shabbat in Eastern Europe was quieter than the others, but definitely as strange and interesting. Unlike last week, when there were two different tour groups at Friday night services and another Saturday morning, this week, there were none. And, with most of the regular members on vacation or at summer camp, the synagogue was pretty empty. After services Friday night, I met another American traveler, Ari from Philadelphia. He was stopping by in Warsaw before he goes to study Yiddish in Vilna for a month. Friday night dinner was the same as last week, in the community center just next to the synagogue, but since there were no big groups this week, there were only a few people who spoke English. This included the Rabbi's daughter, Arianna, visiting from Israel, whom I also met.

Saturday morning, Arianna explained to Ari and me about some of the backgrounds of different people in the synagogue community. One black-hatter used to be a rock musician with long blonde hair, and another used to be a skinhead. No, I didn't make that up--you might remember reading about him and his wife a while back--it was a popular story online. Then we went to lunch next door, and I sat across from a woman named Shoshana whom I met last week. I only had a chance to talk other for a few minutes last week, so I told her that we would talk this week. Shoshana is a survivor, but she's hesitant to mention anything else beyond that. Instead, she likes to talk about the work she did as a translator when she was young (she speaks 10 languages!) and her thoughts on the other community members--including, in response to one woman who asked her why she was eating so much, "I wish I could be fat like her." After lunch, Shoshana took Ari and me on a walk towards her house so that she could hear more about us and tell us more stories about her. On the way there, we met an American couple looking for the synagogue. I showed them where it was--I guess that means that I had been settled in if I knew how to give directions! Anyway, at some point, Ari left, and I continued to walk with Shoshana. We passed a market where she shops, and she told me that her mother shopped there when Shoshana was a little girl--that was the first clue I had that she was born in Warsaw. Then we reached a main street, and before we crossed, she pointed towards a pre-war house down the road, and said, "This was where the Germans caught us." It was just pieces of stories like this that she would tell me--but she was wary to share any more. She wouldn't even say her last name. We ended up sitting on a bench and talking for hours--she's probably in her 80's, but she's very sharp and clearly well-educated. She told me that she would have liked to move to American or Israel after the war, but her mother, who also survived, was ill, and Shoshana was the only one to take care of her. She told me about the synagogue and the history of the community, as well as her experiences living as a Jewish woman in post-war Poland--since, unlike many of the other community members, Shoshana never rediscovered her Judaism, instead, she identified as Jewish for her whole life. She also mentioned that she's a member of a group of child survivors of the Holocaust--it turns out, the same group as the one that sponsored the conference my mom helped plan in Chicago last year! This year, the conference is in Warsaw, and it will be interesting to hear how it turns out.

After I said goodbye to Shoshana, I started walking down the street, away from where we were sitting. Less than a minute after I starting, a couple approached me and the woman asked me (in Polish) if I knew where a certain street was. I responded (in Polish) that I didn't know, and then the man said (in Hebrew) "Look! He's wearing a yarmulke!" I thought I was hearing things. I asked (in Hebrew), "You speak Hebrew?" and he responded, "Yes!" Well, I was thoroughly confused at this point. He asked if I lived in Warsaw, but I told him that I'm from Chicago. Then he told me that he and his wife are from Israel, and his wife mentioned that she learned Polish from her parents, both of whom were from Warsaw. Then everything made sense. I told them that I was sorry I couldn't help them find what they were looking for...but then I realized that I knew someone sitting on a nearby bench who would know--Shoshana! I pointed the couple in her direction and we said goodbye--but not before they gave me their phone number in Israel. I'm always amazed at what a small world it is, and how even on a random street in Warsaw, you can run into people just like you!

Anyway, this morning I arrived in Vienna, and like everyone says, it's a beautiful city! But, I have to say, I really do miss Poland. There was just something about it that made it feel very comfortable for me to be there. Since I've been here, I visited "Haus Der Musik," a museum of both the great musicians of Vienna (Mozart, Beethoven, Mahler, etc.) and sound/the science of sound. It was a really cool museum! And logical. That's one thing I don't miss from Poland. Tonight I went to a concert of Mozart and Strauss music, but it also featured different opera and dance songs by other composers. It was a lot of fun! Music really is the international language.

Warsaw today, Vienna tomorrow!

Tomorrow I'll write a longer post about my last Shabbat in Eastern Europe, but now it's time to go to bed, since I have an early morning flight to Vienna tomorrow! You may or may not have caught this, but my trip as a whole is generally meant to be chronologically mirroring my grandparents' lives in Europe: Visiting their hometowns represented pre-war life, visiting Krakow and my research here in Warsaw represented life during the war, and now I'll be visiting Vienna, Salzburg, and Prague, representing post-war life in Europe. Mama Manya and Papa Joe met and were married in Salzburg, and hopefully we'll get to see where they lived there! I'll be in Israel last, and that part of the trip (and the trip back home) will represent choices regarding where to settle down after the war, since Israel and America were the main places survivors went.

Anyway, more on all of this (including Shabbat) later. Next time from Austria!

Proud graduate of microfilm school

Today was my last day in the archives--I can't believe how fast these two weeks have gone by! I woke up a little earlier today to make sure I could get a seat in the reading room, so I was at the archives by 9:30. Since I had looked up online all the records I wanted to see, I had down each record entry number. This meant that instead of moving through each page of the original book as usual, looking for familiar names, I could jump right in the film to the entry I wanted to see. I mostly looked at records from Nachman Birnberg's family and both of his wives' families. About Nachman's family--after seeing records of Nachman's siblings' births, I can confirm that his father, David Salamon, went sometimes by just Salamon or Schlomo, the Hebrew for the same name. I think that with this fact in mind, we can also conclude that the David Salamon born in 1904 to Nachman and his first wife must have been the same Solomon Birnberg that we've known of. About Nachman's wives' families--yesterday, I wrote that it's likely that Nachman's first wife, Dvora Tropp, and his second wife, Ernestyna Tropp, were cousins, since there weren't that many Tropps in the area. Today I looked at Dvora's birth record (born in 1878), and I saw that Ernestyna's father, Baruch Tropp, was a witness to the birth! I think this confirms that the two were cousins. Once again, I couldn't find Ernestyna's birth record, though. I looked at records from 1895-1897, since Papa Joe said that she was born in 1896. Ernestyna's mother had a child in 1897, but it wasn't Ernestyna! I think that she must have been born later, but at the moment we can't know for sure, since I also couldn't find anything online.

After the archives I went souvenir shopping for the first time on this trip so far! That didn't stop everyone from thinking I was Polish, though. Which I guess is better than souvenir shopping as an American tourist. After I bought a few things I stopped at the Kosher store--it's a little store connected to the synagogue that sells mostly canned things, but also sells Challah from the Kosher bakery that just opened up in town. I bought the Challah from there last week, and it was definitely what kept me going through Shabbat. I got another one this week--a perfect snack for my last full day in Eastern Europe! (Last) Shabbat Shalom from Poland!

Marriages and Mazurkas

As promised, the woman from the civil registry office emailed me this morning to let me know that she found the marriage certificate from Nachman Birnberg's (Papa Joe's father) first marriage. When I arrived at the office to pick up the copy, I learned that Nachman Birnberg's first wife was named Dvora Tropp. For those of you that have been reading for a while, you may recall that Nachman's second wife was Ernestyna Tropp! But they weren't sisters: Dvora's parents names were Eidi Tropp and Gerschon Rath (another person who went by her mother's last name) and Ernestyna's were Baruch Tropp and Ryfka Krauthammer. Still, it's likely they were related, as Tropp wasn't a common name and both families lived in Kolomyja. Anyway, the marriage certificate was from 1915, but the woman at the office couldn't find Solomon Birnberg's birth record, which we had thought would have been from 1912 or 1913. She did, however, find a David Salamon born to Nachman and Dvora in 1904 (don't worry--they were married in Jewish tradition before then, were registered civilly only in 1915). Either this was another child born to them, or this was the Solomon we knew of, just born 8 years earlier. More on that soon.

Anyway, I thanked the woman and left the office, but when I was a few blocks away I realized: If Nachman and Dvora were legally married in 1915, and Nachman and Ernestyna were married in 1918 (as listed on Papa Joe's birth record), then Dvora must have died somewhere in that narrow range of years. I walked back to the office to see if they could find Dvora's death record. However, after about a half-an-hour of looking, the women there couldn't find anything. But it's still interesting to note that, either way, Nachman was remarried pretty quickly after the death of his first wife--and during World War I no less. And--on the subject of marriage, as I left the civil registry office, I walked through a wedding party taking pictures in front of the building. Either they had just registered their marriage, or they thought it was a nice looking building. Probably the first.

With Dvora's parents names and a record of David Salamon born in 1904 in hand, I checked the Kolomyja records index online to see if there would be anything to look up in the central archives...and I found a lot! Not only was Dvora's birth record listed, but I also found listings of other children born to Nachman's parents. The interesting thing is that Nachman's father, also David Salamon (Nachman's son was clearly named after him), went by David Salamon in one record, but just Salamon in another and Schlomo (the Hebrew version of Salamon) in another--meaning, that if his grandfather went by just Salamon (or Solomon), then perhaps the David Salamon born in 1904 also went by just Solomon--and this would be the Solomon we are looking for. I requested all of these records to see tomorrow, so hopefully I'll have some sort of confirmation on that.

I ended the day by visiting the Chopin Museum, which was very recently renovated, so it was as much a display of Chopin's life and music as it was of the latest technology...not to say that I didn't enjoy it. I guess it's a common thing that in Polish museums, there's no signs telling you where to go next, but this museum was definitely more understandable and educational than the museums I visited yesterday. Some of the coolest parts of the museum were the interactive technology aspects themselves: for example, instead of a paper ticket to enter the museum, you receive a card, that, when you wave it in front of a screen or image inside the museum, it activates the section of the exhibit you're standing in front of. But probably the best section of the museum was one called "Chopin the Composer." It was a room with different desks labeled with different categories of pieces Chopin wrote: Sonatas, Nocturnes, Waltzes, etc. At each desk there's a "book" whose pages are made out of some sort of cloth, which also act as touchscreens. At each station, you can listen to the pieces that Chopin wrote that correspond to each category. When you turn the pages of the book, images of the original handwritten compositions appear. It was like an iPad and a real book put together! I could have sat there for hours listening to pieces at each station. I'll have to learn to play some Chopin when I get back home!

I feel like there's a joke about this one...

I guess I've been lucky that, so far in Poland, I haven't had any "what is happening here!!?" moments like I did all the time in Ukraine. Until today.

I started off in the Central Archives, but like yesterday, when I got there, all the machines were being used. However, unlike yesterday, this morning, the security guards wouldn't let me go upstairs until there was an open machine. This meant waiting in the coat room, typing away on my computer. Thankfully, the whole "as soon as you walk away from an elevator it will arrive" trick worked, and as soon as I leaned over to plug in my power cord, the security guard gave me authorization to go upstairs to the reading room. I sat down at the open machine, and just before I clicked on the light, I heard shuffling and mumbling around me. When I tried clicking on the light, I realized that the electricity had gone out for the machines in my row! Strange experience of the day #1. But for some reason I had the feeling that it was a planned electricity outage, since there was a sign on the door to the reading room that mentioned electricity. Oh well. When the power came back on, I began reviewing the microfilms I had ordered, and noticed that I was given one of the films that was being reprographed yesterday (still don't know what that means!). I went up and asked about the other film that was being reprographed, and the archivist responded that it wouldn't be ready until Friday. So that means one last trip to the archives on Friday.

Next I set off for the Warsaw Rising Museum, a museum dedicated to telling the story of the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, in which the Polish people of Warsaw started a sort of revolution against the Nazis to take back Warsaw. In the end it failed, but it lasted for a good two months. Anyway, I decided that I would take public transportation to get there, and I would walk back. I went to the stop to catch the tram, but after a half-an-hour, there was no tram. In fact, no trams were passing that stop. I was thoroughly confused, because it was the same stop and the same tram that I've taken many times before. I started walking to the next stop, hoping that the tram would stop there, but there was also no tram there. I began walking to the next stop, and then, coming out of a street perpendicular to the regular route of this tram, was my tram! Strange experience of the day #2, the tram suddenly has a new route. But thankfully it still got me to the museum.

Now, if you just read my two sentences about the Warsaw Uprising, you probably have learned just as much as I did by going through the museum...because it really made little sense. You start off on a "cobblestone street" where, logically, one side of the room describes the beginning of the war. But the very other side describes the end of the war. Then there's a room with children's objects, describing how children were involved in the uprising. But the uprising didn't start yet! Then there's a series of battles, and then the uprising starts. And on the first day of the uprising, the Poles are free (?). Then you enter a huge room that has an airplane in the center. Then you watch a movie about the extent to which Warsaw was destroyed after the uprising. Then you watch footage of the uprising, and then you enter a room that describes how Nazis gave the order to destroy Warsaw after the uprising. Then you go upstairs, where the uprising is still going on. Then it ends (again), and then Pope John Paul II speaks. Then you learn about paratroopers. Then you manage to find your way to the exit. Now, I don't know if it was just me, because all of the other people visiting the museum seemed to understand what was going on. But for me, it was definitely Strange experience of the day #3.

Then I walked over to the Palace of Culture and Science, the tallest building in Warsaw that was a "gift" from Stalin to the people of Warsaw. I heard that it has a nice view from the top, so I ventured over to check it out. I bought a ticket from the ticket booth, and little did I know that I would also be buying a ticket to the natural history museum also inside the building. You start in an exhibit about gorillas and Charles Darwin, and then ride an elevator to the 30th floor for the nice view. Then you ride down to the 6th floor, and you're in an exhibit about Neanderthals! Then you go to the next room, and there's a display of cave paintings. And a Ford advertising area complete with flat screen panels and touchscreens. Then you figure out that to exit, you need to take the elevator down again, and then walk up the stairs to the door. Strange experience of the day #4. But on the way out, I had my best experience of the day! And that was finding a freshly-squeezed-orange-juice-vending-machine. It's exactly what you imagine: a machine squeezes oranges and pours the contents into a plastic cup. A good way to end the day! (and I guess a little strange, too).

Palace of Culture and Science

A view from the top of the former Ghetto area: note the Nozyk Synagogue on the left, behind the cranes, and Prozna Street on the right

Instant freshly-squeezed orange juice!

Life is like a box of chocolates...

So far, this week of work in the Central Archives has not been too successful. Today, I arrived at the archives to find that all the microfilm machines were occupied, except for one. I asked if that machine was taken, and the woman at the desk said that someone was using it. I sat down at a table to wait for a machine, wondering who was using the one open machine, and in walks in a film crew! From what I could tell, they were filming either a news report or a documentary. Either way, it was very clearly staged. One of the archivists brought out a microfilm and showed the TV hostess/actress how to use the machine, and then the cameraman filmed her rolling through the film. It was funny, but I just wanted to be able to use the machines myself! Eventually, the crew left and another archivist brought up an extra machine for me. I started looking through films to try and find Papa Joe's mother's birth record, but when I went to retrieve the film from the most likely birth year, the archivist told me it was being reprographed. That makes two of those! He said that they'll hopefully be done soon, and I told him I would be back tomorrow to check on them. I also requested what I think are the last microfilms for me to look at. I'll review those tomorrow as well.

After that it was off to the civil registry office, but not before buying the women there a little present to put them in a good mood for my return visit: a box of chocolates. When I got to the office, I rang the bell to announce my presence...and out walks a woman who I'd never seen before. Well, that was awkward! I went to buy these two specific women chocolate, and now one whom I've never seen before answers the door! Anyway, I asked her if she spoke English, and she responded in Polish, "No, we only speak Polish here." But she then went to talk to someone in the back, and when she said "There's an American here," out walked one of the ladies from last week, armed with the forms I handed in then. It's funny that once she heard about an American there, she knew it had to be me. I handed her the box of chocolates, saying that last week was over, and this week is a new week. She was very flattered, and I could tell that this put both her and the other woman in a very good (and helpful!) mood. I explained that I wanted to fill out new forms, this time requests for Papa Joe's father's first marriage certificate and the birth record of Papa Joe's half-brother, Solomon. Unlike last week, today everything happened efficiently. They pulled out the forms, I filled them out, and although they said they couldn't have them ready by today, they agreed to have them ready by Thursday. I'm convinced that their eagerness to help was the chocolate working its magic! When I left, I told them to enjoy the chocolate, and I could tell that they were excited to do so. I'll be back there on Thursday, and maybe they'll even be in such a good mood that they'll show me the original records from Solomon's birth. Or maybe that's me being too optimistic. You never know...a little chocolate can go a long way!

Later, I did a little sightseeing: First I walked around a part of the Old Town district (actually called New Town, because it's not as old as the rest of Old Town) where many of the buildings are painted with pictures of people, animals, etc. Next, I couldn't find the location of the Mila 18 bunker, from where the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was organized (apparently no longer on Mila Street), but one place I did visit was Prozna Street, basically the only street from the Warsaw Ghetto that maintains its original buildings. I also visited a site a little down the road where the only fragments of the Warsaw Ghetto wall have been preserved. Tomorrow, after I visit the archives, hopefully I'll be able to visit the museum I've been wanting to go to--the Warsaw Uprising (not Ghetto Uprising, another one) Museum, which is supposed to be really well done. More then!

An example of a painted house in the New Town district

The entrance to Prozna Street, with the windows of the buildings displaying pictures of Jews in pre-war Warsaw

One of the buildings on Prozna Street

A fragment of the Warsaw Ghetto wall