Like a lot of Northeastern students, exercise became an important part of my daily routine when I first moved to Boston. With the unpredictability of college life, I find comfort in the stability of exercise – not to mention, it's a great habit for combatting the freshman fifteen. Moving to Poland, I knew I would be facing very different stresses and, without access to Marino and Squashbusters, running is the only way I would be able to exercise. To motivate me to implement running into my Polish routine, I registered for the Baltimore Half-Marathon, giving me 3.5 months to train for the race in my hometown. Unfortunately, no matter how often I regretted this decision, the registration fee is non-refundable, so there was no getting out of training.
The culture of running in the U.S. is one of universal popularity. As one of the most popular form of exercise, running routes can be found in even the smallest towns in the Midwest. Many countries have some sort of running culture, although local customs may alter seemingly obvious aspects to running. In Greece, for example, it is considered rude to wave at fellow runners as you pass one another and in Oświęcim, very few go running on Sundays. Understanding a country’s running “scene” is a way to see how imbedded these little customs are in the culture of the country, so it's just a matter of researching that and creating the safest routes possible prior to embarking.
Running, especially in the beginning of my co-op, allowed me to explore Oświęcim in a way I would not get by simply walking around town. Through routes that varied in length, I learned about the culture of living in a former Nazi town, and the normality this history possesses. Oświęcim is about 11 square miles, so my longer runs brought me outside of the city into the neighboring towns. Rural areas surround Oświęcim, so it was rather normal for me to run past corn fields or through forested parks during my route. It will be odd to return to Boston and not greet the free-roaming cows and chickens in the “wild” during my run.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran around the Soła river which runs through the city center, and, assuming I was aware of my location, I took a turn thought to be a shortcut. I should say that I have a great talent of getting lost really easily, so easily that I am inclined to put it in the “special skills” section of my resume. Anyway, I ended up on the other side of the Soła which was a pleasant detour until I began to see barbed wire in my peripheral vision: I stumbled upon Brzeszcze, a province of Oświęcim, and the location of Auschwitz II-Birkenau. I immediately stopped and sat down to attempt to process. When I get lost on my runs in Boston (which happens more often than I would like to admit), I find myself at the aquarium. In Oświęcim, I find myself near a former Nazi extermination and concentration camp.
With only 6 more days left, I want to circle back to one of the first themes I encountered during my time in Poland: normality. To me, being from the United States, living near sites of mass trauma is abnormal. I do not know what it is like to be confronted by my country’s difficult heritage on a daily basis when I walk outside my door. I am disappointed in my ability to judge those living in Oświęcim so easily. Why would these people choose to live next door to the largest site of Nazi extermination? By the same logic, why did I choose to live in Catonsville, Maryland? I didn't, my parents bought a house and raised my siblings and I there, so should I be judged if I also choose to live in my hometown? I am not phased by the sights of Catonsville, just as those in Oświęcim have normalized sights of barbed wires and chimneys.
Oświęcim is much more than a murder site. Although this is, for obvious reasons, a significant part of its history, I can understand the want to emphasize other facets. Oświęcim didn't choose to become Auschwitz, the Nazis made that decision.
Half-marathon training in Poland has become normal to me. This normality involves cows, old Polish men biking 2 miles per hour with a chicken in his basket, the constant smell of fresh bread, and barbed wire. I am not ashamed of this sense of normality, although I am critical and analytical. I already know this 3-month co-op has been one of the most life-changing experiences I will ever have, seen most prominently by the fact that even something so simple as running, in Oświęcim, became a dramatic, blog-post-worthy lesson.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Ravensbrück
Last weekend, I returned to Berlin with the intention of conducting interviews for the Brudnick Center on Conflict and Violence at Northeastern. This lens brought me to Fürstenberg, where I met Sabine, a local member of the community and archivist in the collections department at the former Nazi concentration camp, Ravensbrück. A concentration camp is essentially a labor camp for the criminals. We, of course, know that this definition was only loosely adopted during the Third Reich, as most inmates’ only crime was being born in a certain country or into a certain religion. Germany itself only had concentration camps and labor camps. Extermination camps, such as Auschwitz and Treblinka, had the primary goal of, you guessed it, mass extermination. Treblinka, located northeast of Warsaw, is responsible for the death of approximately 900,000 people, and it only interned approximately 20,000 prisoners. That is to say that almost one million were sent straight to the gas chambers, making this the agenda of this extermination center.
Ravensbrück, although it did not have the primary goal of extermination, provided its prisoners with some of the worst living and working conditions imaginable. Ravensbrück was first established in 1939 as a men’s and women’s camp and soon turned into the largest all-female concentration camp in Nazi Germany. Until the time of its liberation by the Soviet army in 1945, 132,000 women had been registered as inmates. Most women, especially in the mass liquidations of larger camps in Poland, such as Auschwitz, passed through Ravensbrück before being sent to work in other concentration camps as the Nazis grew frantic over the approaching Allied troops. Notable prisoners include French princess, Anne de Bauffremont-Courtenay, author, Corrie ten Boom, Polish Countess, Karolina Lankoraska and 131,997 other women from 40 different countries.
Why, with such horrendous conditions, massive numbers of prisoners and notable inmates, has Ravensbrück been frequently overlooked by the Holocaust tourist community? Different theories exist, but I cannot help but taking a feminist approach: female Holocaust survivor stories do not tend to be as “popular” as their male counterparts, and so, a place devoted to educating it's visitors on the female prisoner experience, would also be overlooked for predominately male concentration camps, such as Sachsenhausen. The result, unfortunately, is a lack of funding that has disallowed the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its potential as a museum.
Ravensbrück Memorial created an exhibition focused on the life of women in Ravensbrück and during the Holocaust, in general. The exhibitions place an emphasis on artifacts and audio and visual testimonies to personalize the trauma endured, educating visitors on the unique suffering of women during the Holocaust, some of which are still unknown by the majority of the population. I will be the first to admit that I did not know about Ravensbrück prior to my visit last summer during a Dialogue of Civilizations. I knew of Sachsenhausen and Auschwitz and Treblinka and Bergen-Belsen and all those big names, but I failed to learn about the largest women's concentration camp during World War II. The exhibition successfully presents information about female prisoners in various concentration camps and creates a dialogue that would otherwise not exist.
Certain pieces of information thoroughly impacted my view of Holocaust education, because what I was reading on the walls of the Museum, are things that should be obvious lessons in any curriculum on the Holocaust. For instance, rarely are brothels spoken about in the discussion of concentration camp organizational structures. By order of Henrich Himmler, in some camps, including Auschwitz I and Dachau, female prisoners were assigned to a prostitution Kommando. In fact, the brothel in Auschwitz I was in Block 24, the location of the current Museum Archives Department and, subsequently, my office. Male survivors testify that they could earn “passes” or “tokens” to be redeemed at the camp’s brothel. The testimony of these survivors suggest that these women received special treatment, including better food and living conditions. One survivor went as far to say he did not feel pity for these women because of this special treatment.
Women faced additional difficulties of sanitation, especially during their time of the month. Women, just like men, we're giving one shirt, jacket, one pair of pants and one pair of undergarments. Women did not receive extra undergarments during menstruation, and faced punishment for dirtying their only uniform. Malnutrition and starvation, however, resulted in the termination of a woman’s menstruation cycle, sometimes permanently. This brought up some controversial debates after the War, as women sought compensation for their sufferings, including becoming infertile as a result of forced sterilization or starvation.
Ravensbrück was also unique in the prevalence of female SS guards. Female SS officers patrolled many other concentration camps, but Ravensbrück had a disproportionally high population of women in uniform. The Memorial devoted an entire house for an exhibition on the brutality and eventual trials of female SS officials in Ravensbrück and beyond. The SS conjure images of beefy German alpha males, but even blonde Aryan 20-somethings carried a pistol and are responsible for the murder of hundreds of innocent lives. There aren't statistics on male versus female SS brutality rates, although survivors speak of the crimes committed and beatings conducted of each gender, depicting equal levels of horror.
I could write much more on the female experience during the Holocaust, especially at Ravensbrück, but time and space do not permit. If you are at all interested in the fate of women during the Holocaust, please do not hesitate to contact me. I find almost too much enjoyment in talking, learning and educating anyone and everyone about the Holocaust. Sabine expressed how the lack of interest, especially seen in the number of volunteer applicants, prohibits the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its goals of educating as many visitors as possible. She was very interested in the co-op program at Northeastern, and I hope to establish a connection for future students interested in assisting in any of the departments at Ravensbrück. This process, however, requires interested students to come forward, so if an international co-op at an incredible non-profit educational center is a future plan of yours, please reach out.
I find that it is the duty of our generation to uncover experiences that have been hidden for 70+ years and ensure that every Holocaust story has the opportunity to be shared.
 |
| Map of extermination, concentration and brothel camps in the Nazi occupied area |
Map showing the amount of prisoners from each country registered at Ravensbrück
Why, with such horrendous conditions, massive numbers of prisoners and notable inmates, has Ravensbrück been frequently overlooked by the Holocaust tourist community? Different theories exist, but I cannot help but taking a feminist approach: female Holocaust survivor stories do not tend to be as “popular” as their male counterparts, and so, a place devoted to educating it's visitors on the female prisoner experience, would also be overlooked for predominately male concentration camps, such as Sachsenhausen. The result, unfortunately, is a lack of funding that has disallowed the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its potential as a museum.
Ravensbrück Memorial created an exhibition focused on the life of women in Ravensbrück and during the Holocaust, in general. The exhibitions place an emphasis on artifacts and audio and visual testimonies to personalize the trauma endured, educating visitors on the unique suffering of women during the Holocaust, some of which are still unknown by the majority of the population. I will be the first to admit that I did not know about Ravensbrück prior to my visit last summer during a Dialogue of Civilizations. I knew of Sachsenhausen and Auschwitz and Treblinka and Bergen-Belsen and all those big names, but I failed to learn about the largest women's concentration camp during World War II. The exhibition successfully presents information about female prisoners in various concentration camps and creates a dialogue that would otherwise not exist.
Certain pieces of information thoroughly impacted my view of Holocaust education, because what I was reading on the walls of the Museum, are things that should be obvious lessons in any curriculum on the Holocaust. For instance, rarely are brothels spoken about in the discussion of concentration camp organizational structures. By order of Henrich Himmler, in some camps, including Auschwitz I and Dachau, female prisoners were assigned to a prostitution Kommando. In fact, the brothel in Auschwitz I was in Block 24, the location of the current Museum Archives Department and, subsequently, my office. Male survivors testify that they could earn “passes” or “tokens” to be redeemed at the camp’s brothel. The testimony of these survivors suggest that these women received special treatment, including better food and living conditions. One survivor went as far to say he did not feel pity for these women because of this special treatment.
Bonus voucher to be redeemed at the camp brothel
In my ignorance, I also neglected to give thought to the trauma exposed to women’s reproductive systems. Women who were raped by SS or by male inmates in the camp brothels, had their pregnancies immediately terminated. Brothel workers returned to work the day after an abortion surgery. In some cases, an abortion was not necessary, as SS officers selected to rape Jewish girls who would be sent to the gas chambers the following morning. Sterilization also occurred in mass numbers, especially at Auschwitz. This mainly took the form of electrocution followed by a series of blood tests and the eventual removal of reproductive organs. Women selected for these tests and surgeries would have to return to their work details following surgery.Women faced additional difficulties of sanitation, especially during their time of the month. Women, just like men, we're giving one shirt, jacket, one pair of pants and one pair of undergarments. Women did not receive extra undergarments during menstruation, and faced punishment for dirtying their only uniform. Malnutrition and starvation, however, resulted in the termination of a woman’s menstruation cycle, sometimes permanently. This brought up some controversial debates after the War, as women sought compensation for their sufferings, including becoming infertile as a result of forced sterilization or starvation.
Ravensbrück was also unique in the prevalence of female SS guards. Female SS officers patrolled many other concentration camps, but Ravensbrück had a disproportionally high population of women in uniform. The Memorial devoted an entire house for an exhibition on the brutality and eventual trials of female SS officials in Ravensbrück and beyond. The SS conjure images of beefy German alpha males, but even blonde Aryan 20-somethings carried a pistol and are responsible for the murder of hundreds of innocent lives. There aren't statistics on male versus female SS brutality rates, although survivors speak of the crimes committed and beatings conducted of each gender, depicting equal levels of horror.
I could write much more on the female experience during the Holocaust, especially at Ravensbrück, but time and space do not permit. If you are at all interested in the fate of women during the Holocaust, please do not hesitate to contact me. I find almost too much enjoyment in talking, learning and educating anyone and everyone about the Holocaust. Sabine expressed how the lack of interest, especially seen in the number of volunteer applicants, prohibits the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its goals of educating as many visitors as possible. She was very interested in the co-op program at Northeastern, and I hope to establish a connection for future students interested in assisting in any of the departments at Ravensbrück. This process, however, requires interested students to come forward, so if an international co-op at an incredible non-profit educational center is a future plan of yours, please reach out.
I find that it is the duty of our generation to uncover experiences that have been hidden for 70+ years and ensure that every Holocaust story has the opportunity to be shared.
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Große Saal
Berlin Round 2: that’s right, this past weekend, I made another trip to one of my favorite cities. My research through Northeastern directed me to the German capital for a weekend of investigation, celebration and orchestration.
I first travelled to Fürstenberg, a town just outside of Berlin, to meet a family friend, Sabine. My aunt, Sabine and another Berliner, Magdalena, joined the Medical Mission Sisters, became friends and have kept in touch. This connection not only gave me multiple places to sleep, but also gave me the opportunity to meet some truly incredible women.
Sabine works at Ravensbrück, a former Nazi concentration camp, so we had a lot to talk about. Ravensbrück was the only all-female concentration camp run by the Nazis and, therefore, has a relatively unique history. I plan on dedicating an entire post to this unfortunately “unpopular” Holocaust tourist destination because it is, to me, one of the most under-appreciated sites for Holocaust education.
Sabine also helped start an aid organization in Fürstenberg dedicated to assist in the assimilation of refugees. Germany, as you probably know, has had a controversial relationship with the groups of refugees, mostly from Syria, that have entered its borders in astounding numbers since the Arab Spring. I got the opportunity to visit the housing facilities Sabine and her organization have fought to get for the now 70+ refugees living in Fürstenberg. Saturday was also a special time in the town because it was the first day of school celebration. In Germany, it is tradition for children entering kindergarten to be welcomed to their school in a ceremony and the reception of Schultüte, a cone-shaped object filled with sweets. The ceremony is usually held on the weekend to ensure family members from out of town can travel to the school and see their 6 year-old attempt to carry a 3.5’ cone. On my first day of Kindergarten, my parents took my picture by the bus and I probably got a hug. I’m not bitter.
There were four children from refugee families that will be beginning Kindegarten this year in Fürstenberg. Three other children will be starting at the elementary school and, because it is their first year at a German school, they got to participate in the ceremony as well. I was moved by the way the school welcomed these children with complete acceptance, something not always expected by a small, monoculture town.
After the ceremony, we joined the families in a trip to the local ice cream parlor. The families speak various levels of German depending on how long they have been in Germany. Sabine and some others are volunteering their time to teach German classes at night to adults that would like to learn and the children are taking extra German classes provided by the school. Most of the children didn't speak English and, because I don't speak German, I could only interact with them through play which they were pretty receptive too once we were all on a sugar rush from the ice cream. Coming off the sugar high, I found myself sitting at a table while a 3 year-old Syrian girl taught me how to count in German. I taught her how to count in English and she caught on right away, while I forgot the German numbers almost immediately. I have been in college as long as she has been alive, and she outsmarted me without even knowing the English language!
On Sunday, I journeyed back into Berlin (only an hour train ride) and met Magdalena, a therapist at a rehabilitation center. I ate so much plum cake, learned a lot about the German Holocaust education curriculum and got all my dreams psychoanalyzed: it was a well-needed, different experience. That evening, we decided to go to the Philharmonie and see the John Wilson Orchestra. I have never been to the orchestra and I didn't really know what to expect. I thought it would be all classical music and, because that is my genre of choice for studying, I was worried I would automatically take out a notebook and feel like I had to take notes. To my delight, the orchestra is conducted by a young, British man who created a set list of songs from famous movies. I had some interviews that day, so I was dressed in “co-op chic” and attending the orchestra: this is adulthood, people.
After a reluctant goodbye and a couple more slices of plum cake, I made the 12 hour journey back to Oswiecim. I had a connection at a station called “Praha,” which I assumed was in Germany or Poland, but once the conductor came around asking for our passes to go across the Czech Republic border, I realized my layover was actually in Prague. In 72 hours, I took 8 modes of transportation across 5 cities in 3 countries: what did you do last weekend?
I first travelled to Fürstenberg, a town just outside of Berlin, to meet a family friend, Sabine. My aunt, Sabine and another Berliner, Magdalena, joined the Medical Mission Sisters, became friends and have kept in touch. This connection not only gave me multiple places to sleep, but also gave me the opportunity to meet some truly incredible women.
Sabine works at Ravensbrück, a former Nazi concentration camp, so we had a lot to talk about. Ravensbrück was the only all-female concentration camp run by the Nazis and, therefore, has a relatively unique history. I plan on dedicating an entire post to this unfortunately “unpopular” Holocaust tourist destination because it is, to me, one of the most under-appreciated sites for Holocaust education.
Sabine and I after having coffee with some people from her church community
Sabine also helped start an aid organization in Fürstenberg dedicated to assist in the assimilation of refugees. Germany, as you probably know, has had a controversial relationship with the groups of refugees, mostly from Syria, that have entered its borders in astounding numbers since the Arab Spring. I got the opportunity to visit the housing facilities Sabine and her organization have fought to get for the now 70+ refugees living in Fürstenberg. Saturday was also a special time in the town because it was the first day of school celebration. In Germany, it is tradition for children entering kindergarten to be welcomed to their school in a ceremony and the reception of Schultüte, a cone-shaped object filled with sweets. The ceremony is usually held on the weekend to ensure family members from out of town can travel to the school and see their 6 year-old attempt to carry a 3.5’ cone. On my first day of Kindergarten, my parents took my picture by the bus and I probably got a hug. I’m not bitter.
There were four children from refugee families that will be beginning Kindegarten this year in Fürstenberg. Three other children will be starting at the elementary school and, because it is their first year at a German school, they got to participate in the ceremony as well. I was moved by the way the school welcomed these children with complete acceptance, something not always expected by a small, monoculture town.
After the ceremony, we joined the families in a trip to the local ice cream parlor. The families speak various levels of German depending on how long they have been in Germany. Sabine and some others are volunteering their time to teach German classes at night to adults that would like to learn and the children are taking extra German classes provided by the school. Most of the children didn't speak English and, because I don't speak German, I could only interact with them through play which they were pretty receptive too once we were all on a sugar rush from the ice cream. Coming off the sugar high, I found myself sitting at a table while a 3 year-old Syrian girl taught me how to count in German. I taught her how to count in English and she caught on right away, while I forgot the German numbers almost immediately. I have been in college as long as she has been alive, and she outsmarted me without even knowing the English language!
On Sunday, I journeyed back into Berlin (only an hour train ride) and met Magdalena, a therapist at a rehabilitation center. I ate so much plum cake, learned a lot about the German Holocaust education curriculum and got all my dreams psychoanalyzed: it was a well-needed, different experience. That evening, we decided to go to the Philharmonie and see the John Wilson Orchestra. I have never been to the orchestra and I didn't really know what to expect. I thought it would be all classical music and, because that is my genre of choice for studying, I was worried I would automatically take out a notebook and feel like I had to take notes. To my delight, the orchestra is conducted by a young, British man who created a set list of songs from famous movies. I had some interviews that day, so I was dressed in “co-op chic” and attending the orchestra: this is adulthood, people.
The orchestra warming up before the first act
After a reluctant goodbye and a couple more slices of plum cake, I made the 12 hour journey back to Oswiecim. I had a connection at a station called “Praha,” which I assumed was in Germany or Poland, but once the conductor came around asking for our passes to go across the Czech Republic border, I realized my layover was actually in Prague. In 72 hours, I took 8 modes of transportation across 5 cities in 3 countries: what did you do last weekend?
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
City of Ruins
I remember when Glee, the TV-musical show, first became popular. It wasn't expected to receive the ratings it did, but the ragtag group of singing underdogs was a refreshing change from the typical privileged Hollywood storyline. This weekend, I got the opportunity to travel to Warsaw, about 4 hours from Oswiecim, and I couldn't help but think of Glee. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), there aren't any large-scale, perfectly choreographed dance numbers occurring in Warsaw daily life, but the Polish capital is definitely the underdog of Europe.
Before stepping foot outside Warszawa Centrum station, one needs to understand the eventful history this city in just the past century. Many say that Warsaw hit its prime in the Interwar-period, I.e. the first 20ish years of its existence. After the invasion of Nazi Germany, the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto, the Warsaw Uprising, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the Battle of Warsaw, the bombing of Warsaw, Soviet liberation-turned-occupation, independence was finally granted, and with the heaviest of sighs. Warsaw has a condition of constant bad luck.
The first time I visited Warsaw during a Dialogue of Civilization last summer, I didn't have the…best experience. I thoroughly enjoyed of Summer Study-Abroad experience, don't get me wrong, but seeing Warsaw through a very narrow lens of the Holocaust, I easily misunderstood the city. There are many monuments and memorials around the city, but almost all of them commemorate the victims of World War II. Polish nationalists have a tendency to emphasize the Polish victims of the War, which in turn ignores the victims of the Holocaust. The Jewish community of Warsaw was about 1 million prior to World War II, and it now sits at a modest 700. I was overcome with annoyance and slight anger at the Polish capital for not accepting its Holocaust history, especially with the recent comments by the Minister of Education. I neglected, however, to see the city as more than its Holocaust history. Polish nationalism is on the rise, and I would be proud of my nationality as well if so many countries in the past have tried to put me down.
On this last-minute visit, I had official University business (I am conducting a research project investigating current levels of antisemitism in Poland) to attend to, so I was not able to see the “typical” sights of Warsaw. This break from sightseeing, allowed me to see Warsaw as its own city separate from the Holocaust. Honestly, after this weekend, it may be one of my favorite cities in the world. There are huge, architecturally interesting skyscrapers intermittent old, Soviet towers. There are museums with emphases on Polish art, Warsaw history, and Eastern European culture. You can get the best pierogis of your life at a hole-in-the-wall joint or swing by a Dunkin’ and get some good ol' American caffeinated comfort. As an aside, if you are looking for a unique study abroad experience, I would highly recommend looking at the University of Warsaw.
My only goal for Saturday was to get to this famous breakfast market in an outer district of Warsaw. I got lost. Without a strict schedule, no map in hand and no real responsibilities, I explored every inch of this place. Sometimes it's refreshing to just explore instead of always focusing on the destination. I reached the market way past breakfast time, but I was still able to get my morning egg-fix (don't worry). The best way to explain my time is through the pictures I took along the way. I tried to do a slick walking-and-taking-pictures-casually thing to avoid looking like a tourist, so ignore the photo quality, or lack thereof:
So, next time you are looking for an amazing European experience that is different from the typical Western European study abroad programs, look no further than Warsaw, Poland.
Do zobaczenia tam
Before stepping foot outside Warszawa Centrum station, one needs to understand the eventful history this city in just the past century. Many say that Warsaw hit its prime in the Interwar-period, I.e. the first 20ish years of its existence. After the invasion of Nazi Germany, the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto, the Warsaw Uprising, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the Battle of Warsaw, the bombing of Warsaw, Soviet liberation-turned-occupation, independence was finally granted, and with the heaviest of sighs. Warsaw has a condition of constant bad luck.
The first time I visited Warsaw during a Dialogue of Civilization last summer, I didn't have the…best experience. I thoroughly enjoyed of Summer Study-Abroad experience, don't get me wrong, but seeing Warsaw through a very narrow lens of the Holocaust, I easily misunderstood the city. There are many monuments and memorials around the city, but almost all of them commemorate the victims of World War II. Polish nationalists have a tendency to emphasize the Polish victims of the War, which in turn ignores the victims of the Holocaust. The Jewish community of Warsaw was about 1 million prior to World War II, and it now sits at a modest 700. I was overcome with annoyance and slight anger at the Polish capital for not accepting its Holocaust history, especially with the recent comments by the Minister of Education. I neglected, however, to see the city as more than its Holocaust history. Polish nationalism is on the rise, and I would be proud of my nationality as well if so many countries in the past have tried to put me down.
On this last-minute visit, I had official University business (I am conducting a research project investigating current levels of antisemitism in Poland) to attend to, so I was not able to see the “typical” sights of Warsaw. This break from sightseeing, allowed me to see Warsaw as its own city separate from the Holocaust. Honestly, after this weekend, it may be one of my favorite cities in the world. There are huge, architecturally interesting skyscrapers intermittent old, Soviet towers. There are museums with emphases on Polish art, Warsaw history, and Eastern European culture. You can get the best pierogis of your life at a hole-in-the-wall joint or swing by a Dunkin’ and get some good ol' American caffeinated comfort. As an aside, if you are looking for a unique study abroad experience, I would highly recommend looking at the University of Warsaw.
My only goal for Saturday was to get to this famous breakfast market in an outer district of Warsaw. I got lost. Without a strict schedule, no map in hand and no real responsibilities, I explored every inch of this place. Sometimes it's refreshing to just explore instead of always focusing on the destination. I reached the market way past breakfast time, but I was still able to get my morning egg-fix (don't worry). The best way to explain my time is through the pictures I took along the way. I tried to do a slick walking-and-taking-pictures-casually thing to avoid looking like a tourist, so ignore the photo quality, or lack thereof:
Spicy egg shakshuka at the Warsaw breakfast market
Warsaw Uprising Memorial
The Main Street leading into the Old Town of Warsaw
A public art exhibit displaying photographs taken of Warsaw in the 50's and 60's. This photograph depicts the city center with the famous Tower of Culture
Entrance to the Warsaw Museum
So, next time you are looking for an amazing European experience that is different from the typical Western European study abroad programs, look no further than Warsaw, Poland.
Do zobaczenia tam
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Kraków Momma
There is nothing in this world that a mother’s hug cannot solve. That is why I was so incredibly excited to have my mom fly all the way from Catonsville, MD to come and visit me in Oswiecim. My mom and her childhood best friend, Kate, made a vacation out of the occasion and decided to stay in Kraków, the closest city to Oswiecim. Despite its proximity, I haven't actually made the two hour train ride into Krakow since I have been in Poland. My mom’s first time in Poland, therefore, became a sightseeing trip for me as well.
My mom and Kate saw the necessary sites during the weekdays, including the Jewish Quarter, the salt mines and Schnidler's Factory. This gave my mom and I time on the weekend to do what we do best: laugh and eat. And boy did we do a lot of both. I could spend hours discussing my new favorite dining spots in Kraków, but, instead, I would like to highlight one particular place: Make Hummus Not War.
Milk bars are pinnacle to Polish culture. The idea behind this type of restaurant is for the busy, hard-working Polish citizen that wants to save money without sacrificing a good, hearty meal. Milk bars are particularly popular for lunch time, when workers need a quick, cheap fix before finishing the work day. A milk bar will specialize in only a few dishes, usually Polish classics, that they can make in mass quantities. Closing time is whenever the food runs out.
In the Jewish Quarter of Kraków, there is a new, modern milk bar specializing in Israeli cuisine. We stumbled upon this restaurant, that more closely resembles a heavenly garden, and I immediately had to eat there. As a vegetarian, there are few things that will make me happier than a restaurant called “Make Hummus Not War.” And it did not disappoint. We got to choose three of five Israeli classics that had a modern twist. My favorite was the mango cranberry hummus.
Trekking across the globe to Poland, my mom needed to see my place of work for the past two months. Touring my mom around Auschwitz was a surreal experience, in more ways than one. It was strange teaching the Holocaust and the role of Auschwitz to someone that has taught me almost everything I know. Seeing this place through the eyes of someone who is seeing it for the first time really puts my entire co-op experience into perspective. I have found a sense of normalcy behind this barbed wire. It sounds odd, I know, but when you spend 6 hours out of the day in any place, normalcy is inevitable. Every place has become associated with parts of my job or my daily life. My office is in Block 23, Jacek (whom I call my Polish father because of his striking resemblance to my father) works in Block 24 and fellow Northeastern student, Manish Laungani, works in the former camp kitchen. I walk by the crematorium on the way into work and through the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign on my way home: this is my daily life.
I don't remember what it felt like to walk through Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II-Birkenau for the first time last summer. My new memories of these places have overshadowed the old ones and I cannot get them back. Watching my mom see each remain and each exhibit for the first time, I began to remember why I wanted to work in a former Nazi concentration and extermination camp. The sadness, frustration, anger and confusion that every visitor experiences on their three hour tour are what makes this museum necessary. I believe every person should at least try and journey to Oswiecim and see what we, as human beings, are capable of doing to one another. In reading about the Holocaust, it is easy to consume oneself in the facts and figures of this time. Visiting the sites in those textbook photographs allows one to unveil the raw and personal side of this history that can only be experienced through seeing, not reading.
I am grateful for my mother for so many reasons. Today, I am grateful that, as I begin the second-half of my time in Poland, she reminded me that my co-op work is important for this institution and for myself.
My mom and I outside of a castle in the center of Kraków
Milk bars are pinnacle to Polish culture. The idea behind this type of restaurant is for the busy, hard-working Polish citizen that wants to save money without sacrificing a good, hearty meal. Milk bars are particularly popular for lunch time, when workers need a quick, cheap fix before finishing the work day. A milk bar will specialize in only a few dishes, usually Polish classics, that they can make in mass quantities. Closing time is whenever the food runs out.
My mother and her friend Kate before they devoured two giant plates of Polish latkes and cabbage rolls at a traditional milk bar
Trekking across the globe to Poland, my mom needed to see my place of work for the past two months. Touring my mom around Auschwitz was a surreal experience, in more ways than one. It was strange teaching the Holocaust and the role of Auschwitz to someone that has taught me almost everything I know. Seeing this place through the eyes of someone who is seeing it for the first time really puts my entire co-op experience into perspective. I have found a sense of normalcy behind this barbed wire. It sounds odd, I know, but when you spend 6 hours out of the day in any place, normalcy is inevitable. Every place has become associated with parts of my job or my daily life. My office is in Block 23, Jacek (whom I call my Polish father because of his striking resemblance to my father) works in Block 24 and fellow Northeastern student, Manish Laungani, works in the former camp kitchen. I walk by the crematorium on the way into work and through the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign on my way home: this is my daily life.
I don't remember what it felt like to walk through Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II-Birkenau for the first time last summer. My new memories of these places have overshadowed the old ones and I cannot get them back. Watching my mom see each remain and each exhibit for the first time, I began to remember why I wanted to work in a former Nazi concentration and extermination camp. The sadness, frustration, anger and confusion that every visitor experiences on their three hour tour are what makes this museum necessary. I believe every person should at least try and journey to Oswiecim and see what we, as human beings, are capable of doing to one another. In reading about the Holocaust, it is easy to consume oneself in the facts and figures of this time. Visiting the sites in those textbook photographs allows one to unveil the raw and personal side of this history that can only be experienced through seeing, not reading.
I am grateful for my mother for so many reasons. Today, I am grateful that, as I begin the second-half of my time in Poland, she reminded me that my co-op work is important for this institution and for myself.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Par Le Vu Sisters?
I have my eldest sister to thank for many things in my life including my fear of escalators, the loss of my first baby tooth and, most prominently, my love for Northeastern. That’s right, my sister is a husky alumni of the School of Journalism! She graduated in 2015 and is now a sports reporter/anchor for WDAZ in Grand Forks, ND (see maddiesattler.com for more details). My favorite red-headed sibling journeyed from the Midwest all the way to Europe to meet me, her favorite sister and the result was a Sattler-tastic 36 hours.
Arthur has repeatedly said that his family is forever in debt to mine and has extended multiple invitations to stay at his apartment. Unfortunately, this time around, the apartment was undergoing a two-story expansion (in which Arthur is adamant about installing a fireman’s pole to connect the floors) so we were not able to stay there. We were still able to have dinner and reconnect with our beloved family friend and his famous bushy hairdo. The love that Arthur has for his city is something I have never been able to feel for my place of residence. Boston is an amazing city, but I don't have an unconscious pull to spend the rest of my life there. My connections with places are associated with the people that live there. I love Paris because I got to travel there with my brother and, now, my sister. Traveling is not about the places you are going, but the people you go with and meet along the way. Exploration of culture begins with the culture’s people. And hearing Arthur speak about long last and ever-present histories of Paris, I become more and more captivated by this multifaceted city. I would not return to Paris as often as I have if it wasn't for Arthur and I would not have met Arthur if it wasn't for our grandfathers.
My grandparents loved to travel and did so every opportunity they had; it would be quicker for me to list the countries in which they haven’t visited. They gave Madeline and I the travel bug. We were fortunate enough to return to their favorite city in the world and I already can't wait to bring our double husky pride back to the city of lights.
Casual morning hot chocolate outside the Louvre
Photobombed by the Tour Eiffel
We got to spend last weekend in Paris, France eating more bread and cheese than humanly possible and even getting tattoos. Paris has always been close to our hearts because it is the most beautiful city in the world and it was our paternal grandparents’ favorite as well. Our familial association with Paris is rather unique, and connects with my co-op. My grandfather fought in the United States Army during World War II and was deployed to France. He had the opportunity to liberate a concentration camp and save the life of a Jewish Frenchman, Jean Dreyfus. My grandfather helped connect Dreyfus with his father and, in his novel about his time in the French concentration camp, he thanks my grandfather. Jean has a grandson that lives in the heart of Paris. Arthur Dreyfus is a very successful writer (he has his own Wikipedia page!) in France, publishing novels about the intersection of religion and politics around the world.Arthur has repeatedly said that his family is forever in debt to mine and has extended multiple invitations to stay at his apartment. Unfortunately, this time around, the apartment was undergoing a two-story expansion (in which Arthur is adamant about installing a fireman’s pole to connect the floors) so we were not able to stay there. We were still able to have dinner and reconnect with our beloved family friend and his famous bushy hairdo. The love that Arthur has for his city is something I have never been able to feel for my place of residence. Boston is an amazing city, but I don't have an unconscious pull to spend the rest of my life there. My connections with places are associated with the people that live there. I love Paris because I got to travel there with my brother and, now, my sister. Traveling is not about the places you are going, but the people you go with and meet along the way. Exploration of culture begins with the culture’s people. And hearing Arthur speak about long last and ever-present histories of Paris, I become more and more captivated by this multifaceted city. I would not return to Paris as often as I have if it wasn't for Arthur and I would not have met Arthur if it wasn't for our grandfathers.
My grandparents loved to travel and did so every opportunity they had; it would be quicker for me to list the countries in which they haven’t visited. They gave Madeline and I the travel bug. We were fortunate enough to return to their favorite city in the world and I already can't wait to bring our double husky pride back to the city of lights.
Shock Waves
I have officially been living in Poland for one month. It feels as though it has been closer to one year since I left the comfort of our Boston campus. I cannot begin to summarize the contents of my first four weeks, especially the amazing departments I have been able to work with and high profile events I have been able to attend. I could write pages and dozens of posts just about my co-op, but far more interesting is my rocky path to cultural assimilation.
Poland is very different from the United States and even Western Europe. I visited last summer during a Dialogue of Civilization that travelled around Germany and Poland investigating the Holocaust and genocidal prevention (hence the interest in pursuing a co-op at the Auschwitz Birkenau State Museum). This had been my fist time in Poland and Eastern Europe. The culture of Poland is under appreciated and frequently misunderstood; I remember my group and I disliked the blunt and unkept nature of this country in comparison to the stiff and proper German cities we had already visited. Polish people, at first, come across as rather rude. There is a mutual understanding among citizens to eliminate any sort of polite filters when it comes to expressing oneself. The blunt nature of Poland is easily reflected as bitterness, but this is not the case at all.
Returning to Poland this time around, I realize the ignorance that guided my previous visit. Poland has a very rocky recent history that has included being controlled by multiple countries and shifting territory lines. Eventually, the country found its independence, but this political stability has resulted in economic instability that has been mirrored in social tensions about socioeconomic groups. All of this history has created a population of citizens that have learned to be vocal and fight for what they need, translating into proud and abrupt displays of culture.
Coming this explanation expedited my assimilation process and reduced the possibility of culture shock. I struggled in the discomfort of living in a foreign land without speaking the local language, but researching Poland prior to my arrival allowed me to appreciate the country I was in and made me excited to learn more about this culture. My co-workers have been teaching me some Polish (it is an incredibly difficult language to learn that seems to not believe in vowels) in exchange for mini English lessons. I have befriended local interns that have graciously showed me the surrounding towns that each citizen is so very proud to come from.
Culture shock is inevitable and completely normal especially during an international co-op. Rocky landings cannot be avoided but the effects can definitely be minimized. I strongly suggest researching one's country prior to departure, whether for a study abroad, international co-op or family vacation. In order to fully experience a foreign country, it is important to filter out our "American point of view" and immerse ourselves in the culture. I didn't realize my tainted POV; as a social science student, I always saw myself as above prejudices, but I have come to learn that this is impossible. For the first, I would say, two weeks I was in culture shock. I didn't feel comfortable and I began counting down the days I would be returning to Boston. I realized this mentality is such a waste of the incredible opportunity I have been given. Jumping headfirst into the culture of Poland and Osweicim, I have learned so much about this overlooked country and have come to call it home. I advise you to accept the differences between your culture and the one you are visiting and dive into the unknown. We frequently forget how large the Earth actually is, do your research and get on a plane, you will not regret it.
Poland is very different from the United States and even Western Europe. I visited last summer during a Dialogue of Civilization that travelled around Germany and Poland investigating the Holocaust and genocidal prevention (hence the interest in pursuing a co-op at the Auschwitz Birkenau State Museum). This had been my fist time in Poland and Eastern Europe. The culture of Poland is under appreciated and frequently misunderstood; I remember my group and I disliked the blunt and unkept nature of this country in comparison to the stiff and proper German cities we had already visited. Polish people, at first, come across as rather rude. There is a mutual understanding among citizens to eliminate any sort of polite filters when it comes to expressing oneself. The blunt nature of Poland is easily reflected as bitterness, but this is not the case at all.
Returning to Poland this time around, I realize the ignorance that guided my previous visit. Poland has a very rocky recent history that has included being controlled by multiple countries and shifting territory lines. Eventually, the country found its independence, but this political stability has resulted in economic instability that has been mirrored in social tensions about socioeconomic groups. All of this history has created a population of citizens that have learned to be vocal and fight for what they need, translating into proud and abrupt displays of culture.
Coming this explanation expedited my assimilation process and reduced the possibility of culture shock. I struggled in the discomfort of living in a foreign land without speaking the local language, but researching Poland prior to my arrival allowed me to appreciate the country I was in and made me excited to learn more about this culture. My co-workers have been teaching me some Polish (it is an incredibly difficult language to learn that seems to not believe in vowels) in exchange for mini English lessons. I have befriended local interns that have graciously showed me the surrounding towns that each citizen is so very proud to come from.
Culture shock is inevitable and completely normal especially during an international co-op. Rocky landings cannot be avoided but the effects can definitely be minimized. I strongly suggest researching one's country prior to departure, whether for a study abroad, international co-op or family vacation. In order to fully experience a foreign country, it is important to filter out our "American point of view" and immerse ourselves in the culture. I didn't realize my tainted POV; as a social science student, I always saw myself as above prejudices, but I have come to learn that this is impossible. For the first, I would say, two weeks I was in culture shock. I didn't feel comfortable and I began counting down the days I would be returning to Boston. I realized this mentality is such a waste of the incredible opportunity I have been given. Jumping headfirst into the culture of Poland and Osweicim, I have learned so much about this overlooked country and have come to call it home. I advise you to accept the differences between your culture and the one you are visiting and dive into the unknown. We frequently forget how large the Earth actually is, do your research and get on a plane, you will not regret it.
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