I wrote previously about Jack’s paternal ancestors and their 18th century journey from Lorraine to Romania. My research uncovered one thin branch of that family tree originating in Czechia, right up against the border of Poland. It would be a shame to follow the main branch down the Danube without a side trip to these little villages as well. So we decided to continue East and as long as we’re here, we’ll make the pilgrimage to Auschwitz. We drove to the border.
It’s a joke between us that I claim many of the places we travel to look like Pennsylvania, the US state we both grew up in. Pennsylvania has rolling farmland, hardwood forests, old granite mountains, deep gorges, and green river valleys, so it’s not surprising to see similarities in a lot of places. If you’ve ever been to Pennsylvania, I think you’d agree this looks exactly like Pennsylvania.
We made three or four stops in the villages I’d marked on my map but just like in Lorraine, old graves are few and far between. I knew where Jack’s ancestors had lived and died but we couldn’t find them. We did find a few markers in German so we knew we were in the right place but either Jack’s ancestor didn’t have markers or they were long gone.
I loved this unusual World War I memorial.
The last village we visited was bisected by this very subtle Polish border. We couldn’t even find a graveyard there.
Disappointed and hungry, we stopped at a park for a bite to eat and to plan our next move. It was fun to watch the families enjoying the beach on a beautiful spring day.
This gentleman stood akimbo for the better part of an hour, showing his stuff. Sometimes he turned around and graced us with the posterior view. Eventually he mounted his bicycle and rode away, job done.
We crossed the border into Poland and found a parkup about an hour from Oświęcim, or Auschwitz.
Once again we were near a cemetery and we came across this plaque as we explored the neighborhood. It describes the Death March from Auschwitz in January 1945 and the prisoners who were murdered in this village.
If it’s difficult to read the inscription (click to enlarge) you can find information about the Death March from Auschwitz here.
The villagers buried the victims and erected a memorial which has evolved as the victims have been identified. Many are still only commemorated by the numbers recorded by the parish priest at the time of their burial. It’s a deeply sad place and I spent some time, as I always do at memorials, reading every name, and in this case, number.
Back at the van I visited the Auschwitz-Birkenau website to schedule our visit and English language tour only to find that it was booked solid until the following week. So much for not planning ahead. I booked the next available day and we headed for Krakow. I’d love some pierogi.
