A city awash with historical hang-ups and replete with stunning architecture, cheap bars, cheaper hangovers, rude, grimacing supermarket staff, chatty hobos in the park, blizzards, and omniscient Żubrówka. I came, I saw, I drank vodka, and then I left more than satisfied.
I arrive in Auschwitz the day after the 70th anniversary of the camp’s liberation by the Red Army. I ramble around in a miserable blizzard, apropos of nothing. I find it difficult to connect myself to the suffering; it’s an alien place to me. An unspeakable crime, I struggle to put myself in that moment in time. Is this what human beings are capable of? It seems so. I depart in a foul mood, which is merely compounded by a flick through the news headlines later that day – murder, bloodshed, war, carnage. Welcome to Earth, I guess. I arrive back in Kraków and immediately hit the beers and vodka. Horrible history.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 