Escape Velocity

We cannot get by Auschwitz. We should not even try, as great as the temptation is, because Auschwitz belongs to us, is branded into our history, and – to our benefit! – has made possible an insight that could be summarized as, ‘Now we finally know ourselves.’

Gunter Grass

I don’t know what I can say about visiting Auschwitz — or any Nazi death camp — that hasn’t already been said. We went out of a sense of duty to bear witness and we knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Entrance is free but you must book a time slot. You can explore on your own or pay for a guided tour in one of 20 different languages. We chose the tour, and it was helpful to be escorted around the enormous grounds to specific buildings and displays. However, we didn’t learn more from the guide than we already knew about the Holocaust and the death camps. The true value of visiting is to experience firsthand the place we’ve seen so many times in newsreel footage and movies.

As we entered through the famous gate I felt a wave of fear and sadness and it stayed with me even after we walked outside hours later.

We were immediately struck by the rows of multistory brick buildings. The image we had of Auschwitz was of the low wooden barracks we’d seen on film in countless documentaries and feature films so the brick buildings surprised us. We learned they were originally built as army barracks and were repurposed and modified during construction of the camp.

We followed our guide from building to building. Some housed displays or photographs, some remain as they were as housing or for special purposes. We took very few photos of these often disturbing displays.

The infamous Block 10 was the site of Josef Mengele’s gruesome medical experiments.

I was glad to see these faces. Each was a person with a mother and father, a spouse, a brother, a sister, a child, not just one of six million. I wanted to read all their names, and I lagged behind our group, wanting to acknowledge every one of them. Seeing these expressions of hopelessness, fear, but also often strength, affected me almost more than any other part of our visit.

This is a reconstruction of the death wall, where thousands of prisoners were executed.

We walked and walked, into buildings, through displays, up and down staircases, then out again. The narrow pathways lined with barbed wire were as claustrophobic as the interiors.

We boarded buses for the short drive to Birkenau, the adjacent extermination camp, and this is where we recognized the long low barracks we’d seen so many times on film.

Who hasn’t seen this view? It gave us chills.

Most of the barracks had been destroyed but there are a few remaining to give you a clear picture of the living conditions.

We ended at the ruin of one of the gas chambers, destroyed by the Nazis when they evacuated the camp as the Russian army approached in January 1945. Our guide left us alone with our thoughts for a while.

It was a quiet bus ride back to the visitors center. Jack and I sat on a bench across from the entrance to rest and reflect before walking home.

On our way back to the van we saw where people have left the time slot and language stickers you wear on your tour. We added ours to the lot.

Here’s the part we both can’t fathom: Oświęcim was a thriving community since the Middle Ages, then was largely cleared and destroyed by the Nazis when they built the death camp and the I.G. Farben chemical factory. After the war, after 1.1 million people were murdered at the camps, after the world learned what horrors took place there, people moved back to Oświęcim. They built homes and schools and churches and shops and playgrounds on land that certainly harbors the ashes of victims. They live within meters of the site of incomprehensible atrocities. If you believe in ghosts, they are certainly here. And I can’t imagine calling this place home.

We find ourselves in the land of Rubik’s cube. I don’t know why Kraków’s claim to fame is the Rubik’s Cube; after all, Erno Rubik was Hungarian. I guess it’s just how they roll in the Baltics. They never could get along. I don’t know what to expect of Krakow but after Prague, the Poles are going to have to really bring it, but then that would be a clear violation of Rule #2 (don’t get jaded.)

Krakow was one of the first listed UNESCO World Heritage Sites so let’s just agree to keep an open mind and enjoy this green leafy circular belt around the old walled city called the Planty. 

The  green border was created by filling in the surrounding moat and planting this green lovely garden, which brings us to the one of the original seven fortified city gates.

This place has a family fun sort of vibe but as soon as we headed towards the old central plaza — at some  40,000 sq meters it’s said to be the largest in Europe — we ran into this torture museum. 

We could never determine if they were for it or against it. 

Even the buskers are a little unusual.

After winding through Kraków’s medieval streets we gained the old town central plaza.

Yeah, it’s plenty big but we instantly found ourselves engulfed in a demonstration. It was the first of many we witnessed in Europe during the summer of 2024.

Streetside, at a quiet cafe for lunch, once again we were treated to a demonstration, this one for Ukraine.

I’d say they’re for Ukraine but against incarceration. When you grow up in the 1960’s you get a feel for these kinds of things.

These two are famous mathematicians and I think they’re hashing out a new Babach-Nicodym Theorem. Why everyone thinks it’s good luck to rub their hands is beyond me. At least it just their hands.

Just off the main plaza we found the impressive St. Mary’s Basilica.

Back on the plaza we plunge into the market, which was once a very long building called Cloth Hall.

After a half mile long shopping experience, creeping along past one vendor after another, we decided to take a break with a stroll along the Vistula River. 

It’s not every day that you come face to face with a mechanized fire breathing dragon.

Finally we saw a corner of the Wawel Royal Castle overlooking the river.

I often wonder whether these fortifications are meant to protect the nabobs from their subjects or their subjects from folks like the Tatars who in 1241 sacked and destroyed the entire town.

Once again we wandered the streets of Krakow.

A quick stop for authentic Polish food.

We liked Krakow, and it makes us wish we’d planned to spend more time in other places in Poland. But we have an appointment tomorrow with evil, so it’s time to move along.

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.

They do things a little differently here in Czechia. For instance, the basement of my church in Pittsburgh was home to Sunday school, a hanging wardrobe for choir robes, and (my personal favorite) the annual strawberry shortcake festival.

In Sedlec they use the basement for a different purpose. The first clue was the entrance.

Of course to protect the sanctity of their basement no photos are allowed but as I’ve said before, accidents do happen, and when making clever objets d’ art out of one’s ancestors and then charging the Philistines coin of the realm, which in this case is not the Euro but something called Czech koruna, you’ve got to expect a fair amount of curiosity seekers. After all, it’s featured in Atlas Obscura. At least that’s where we found it. (Official photos here.)

Saint Mary’s perched on top, turns out to be a lovely chapel. 

One last shot of the forbidden ossuary from the upper floor of the chapel.

Please tell me that this is not the owners car, parked out front.

Down the road apiece is the UNESCO-listed Church of the Assumption of Our Lady and Saint John the Baptist. We only ducked in because it was included in our ticket for the ossuary but the interior took us by surprise. The original church, built about 1300 in High Gothic style, burned down in 1421. From 1700 to 1708 it was rebuilt in the Baroque Gothic style. The high vaulted ceiling takes your breath away.

They’ve got their own bones here, as well as relics of Vincent of Saragossa.

So let’s see what other oddities we can dig up in the land of the koruna.

The riverside settlement now known as Prague has been occupied since the Paleolithic times due to trade routes that follow the Vitava River which meanders through the center of town. By 880 Czech Prince Borivoj moved into town and built Prague Castle overlooking the burgeoning town. It’s still considered the largest castle in the world. Yours Truly will agree it’s one of the larger numbers to have to walk around.

The first stone bridge over the Vitava River was built in 1170, known as the Judith. It collapsed in 1342. A new bridge replaced the Judith in 1357, and it’s still in use today and known as the Charles Bridge. This time they wisely chose to model it after the Old Stone bridge in Regensburg.

Prague is not one of those towns that slowly ramps up into a genuine destination as you walk in. No, it hits you straight between the eyes from the get-go.

I don’t care how jaded you are, this place does not disappoint and the crowds attest to that, but no matter how crowded, you can always find a narrow secluded and cobbled alleyway with copious quirky hidden treasures.

In a new Escape Velocity exclusive tip; ignore the sea of humanity standing shoulder to shoulder at the astronomical animated clock, known as the Orloj.

At noon grab a table at one of the bars across from the clock, order a pint of icy Pilsner Urquel and enjoy the show. We did this the third time we found ourselves in the neighborhood, and it works a charm. My kind of place.

Marce was here forty years ago when Prague was still behind the iron curtain and predictably she says it’s changed a lot. As in, there are way more people now.

It should come as no surprise that there’s no end to the myths surrounding the Orloj. For one, if the clock stops for any length of time a curse is activated, the skeleton continues to nod his head, and bad luck follows until the clock is running again.

Legend has it that the clockmaker Hanus was blinded by order of the town council so that he wouldn’t be able to repeat the secrets of the Orloj. That last one may be apocryphal. There’s another one about the Golem that Rabbi Loew made from Vitava River mud, but I’m just not going there.

Does Prague have any palaces you ask? The place is lousy with them. This one is the Kaiserstein Palace.

And across the street, St. Nicholas Church.

Not to put too fine a point on it, after this church we felt our eyes needed a rest. A short discussion later and it was unanimous for ice cream. Strolling down one of those narrow cobbled lanes in the back water of Prague you can imagine our surprise.

Giving order to the cosmos and celestial flavors as well, that Kepler was truly a renaissance man. Naturally we cast about trying to find the Clementium where Kepler did a lot of his work. Through another hole in the wall, of course, we found the Astronomical Tower and Baroque library, founded in 1556, said to be the most beautiful library in the world, housing some 27,000 of the earliest printed books including Kepler’s handwritten work. Einstein taught here and Mozart played here many times.

After wandering about the several ton bronze statue of Atlas perched on top of the astronomical tower we started to climb the stairs.

However, one is only allowed to gaze at the dimly-lit Baroque Library through its open doors. It is the most beautiful library I have ever seen.

More stairs, steps, and ladders and we entered the astronomical room to see some of the instruments used by Tycho Brahe and Kepler.

Onward and upward.

The twin spires of our Lady before Tyne, over our left shoulder, is where Tyco Brahe is said to be buried. How hard could it be to find a twin spire church in Prague? We’re keen to find out. I mean what could possibly go wrong?

It took a while but we weren’t leaving without a visit. Across the old town square and maybe a couple of zig-zags and Bob’s your uncle.

Using Tycho’s meticulous observations Kepler was eventually able to discover that the earth and planets travel around the sun in elliptical orbits, not circular, as astronomers believed before. I think it’s safe to say the two of them revolutionized the way we understand our solar system.

Prague was so much fun, from beginning to end. But now it’s time to move on.

In addition to the challenge of limited time allowed in Europe, and the challenge of avoiding green zones in our old campervan, there’s yet another challenge: paying for toll roads where there are no toll booths. Lots of RV travelers advocate avoiding toll roads altogether because in some countries it can get quite expensive. While backroads are beautiful, sometimes we just want to get somewhere.

Most of the countries we’re visiting have replaced tolls booths with cameras to read either your vehicle registration or an account barcode. And every country has its own scheme for payment. Luckily you can buy a ‘vignette’ or toll tag for each country. This used to be an actual physical sticker but now you just pay online for a set amount of time and your vehicle registration is read and recognized by the cameras. If you don’t have a vignette and end up on a toll road, you can be sure that at some point — maybe months later — you’ll receive a citation in the mail for the toll and a fine for nonpayment.

Before we entered the Czech Republic we bought a vignette valid for 10 days at a cost of 13 Euros and covering any toll road across the country. Lots of travelers don’t like paying for a vignette but we consider it a temporary road tax and we’re happy to contribute to the maintenance of the highways wherever we go. I think the system is genius, and I wish the US would come up with something like this. The last time we were in the US I spent many hours and more dollars than I should have just to pay the toll on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. They don’t make it easy. A one-day digital pass would make so much more sense.

Vignette secured, we made a last stop at a German supermarket where I took advantage of the wide selection of vegetarian and vegan products, including vegan braunschweiger.

Finally we crossed into the Czech Republic. I was here forty years ago when it was Czechoslovakia and as far as I can remember, it looks the same.

Our first stop was Plzeň, famous of course as the birthplace of the pale lager known as Pilsner. We enjoy the occasional Pilsner Urquel so of course we had to visit the brewery. We booked our tour for midafternoon and set off on a walk about the city.

Plzeň is Czechia’s fourth largest city, yet it’s human in scale and ringed by green space. We began by orienting ourselves with a walk around the park surrounding the old town.

One of our primary goals was a visit to the 19th century Great Synagogue. It’s the second largest in Europe and the fourth largest in the world. The interior is stunning, and despite the size the space feels intimate.

At the huge Republic Square we circled the gothic cathedral of St. Bartholomew but didn’t go in. We did find the gate decorated with angels where legend has it rubbing the head of a particular one brings good fortune. I never pass up an opportunity for luck.

These puppets caught our eye as we passed an art gallery.

At the appointed time we walked to the brewery for our tour. They’ve been making beer here since 1307 but in a method called top-fermented. In 1842 the Plzeň brewery recruited a Bavarian brewer who used local ingredients and a cool fermenting process to produce the first pale lager, what’s now called pilsner.

The tour is a well-orchestrated journey through the history of the brewery and the process of brewing this particular beverage.

A bus took us to the bottling plant, which I thought an odd place to start — at the end of the process — but it soon became clear that the stops were organized for dramatic effect rather than linear storytelling.

Our only beef with the tour was that the group was large and the spaces echo-y so we often struggled to hear the guide. Nevertheless, we enjoyed seeing the process, especially since for much of our work life we both spent a lot of time filming how things are made.

They saved the best for last, or course, the caves where the beer is fermented.

Then we all grabbed a glass and filed past one of the barrels for a sample of the not-quite-ready product.

On the way back to the van we saw a number of these critters as we crossed the bridge. We determined they are nutria, not something we see every day.

One gets that tingly feeling when considering that hundreds of years ago one’s ancestors floated under this same stone bridge on a barge loaded with everything they possessed. Courageous or just desperate, they cast their fate with leaders who had empty promises and dubious agendas. 

My only problem is that it was a hike just to get from our parkup to the old walled town of Regensburg on the Danube River. It was originally a Stone Age Celtic settlement and around about 90 AD the Romans built a fortification beside the river. You can still see the remnants. In 1135 the magnificent 16 arch stone bridge was erected and is still considered a marvel of medieval engineering. That’s where we’re headed right now.

Access through the wall is at the Watchtower Gate

And here’s the medieval stone bridge, said to be the model for the Charles bridge in Prague.

Twin spires of St. Peter’s Cathedral.

Porta Praetoria, remains of ancient Roman fortifications.

These brass plaques are called “stumbling stones” and are embedded in front of houses where people lived who were seized, deported, and murdered by the Nazis. It’s an ongoing project with stones in most European countries. It’s considered the largest memorial in the world.

We’re in Kepler Land which makes Marce happy. She calls him one of her heroes.

Lovely Trinity Church

Regensburg has been an awesome surprise, showing little war damage. But we’ve got a long way to go so it’s back to the bus for the Escapees.

The family we met in Bickenholtz told us about a museum in Ulm dedicated to the story of the Donauschwaben and of course we had to come.

Right out front is a replica of the riverboats the emigrants traveled on. We don’t know how long the journey took but it doesn’t look like a very comfortable means of travel.

Maria Theresa and her husband Francis ruled the empire and when they hatched the scheme to hold the lands previously occupied by the Ottomans, Maria Theresa suggested to Francis that he send peasants from his homeland Lorraine for the purpose. And that was the genesis of the Donauschwaben.

We learned through firsthand accounts that the promised houses and livestock rarely materialized and the new arrivals were left to fend for themselves in an undeveloped and infertile landscape.

Eventually they cleared the fields, and after some lean years of harsh weather and crop failures they made a home for themselves. The museum exhibited typical furnishings, clothing, crafts, and tools.

The photo below is from the general area and period Jack’s family lived in just before they left for America, one sibling after another in a perfect example of chain migration. Jack’s grandfather was the youngest and last in his family to arrive.

“For the dispossessed who left their villages in search of an opportunity to earn, there is still an alternative to the factory. Between 1899 and 1914, about 252,000 Danube Swabians, mainly from rural regions, made their way to America.

“They are mostly young people whose future is not materially secured by their parents’ inheritance or by a gainful profession. They hope to prosper in the land of unlimited possibilities and thus to be able to build an existence in their old homeland after returning.”

Most of the emigrants to America prospered, finding work in the industrial Midwest.

Things got worse for the families who stayed. As ethnic Germans they were considered enemies during the World Wars, and many eventually had their property seized or were sent to labor camps or deported.

We spent a long time in the museum, then walked around the town. It’s a very typical west German city and we tried to imagine what it must have looked like when Jack’s ancestors were here 250 years ago.

Down by the river there’s a wall of plaques commemorating some of the regions, specific villages, and even countries where the people of the Donauschwaben diaspora ended up. I can’t emphasize enough how rare it is to have this clear a picture of the history of Jack’s paternal ancestors. Americans are so often a mishmash of heritage and ethnicity. Having a discreet and well-documented ancestral line is a gift. We were both moved by their story.

And then it was on to the Autobahn as we follow the Danube, more or less.

And check this out: miles and miles of solar panels. We’ve never seen so many!

We found a peaceful parkup along the Rhine River which marks the border between France and Germany.

At least it was peaceful until these guys showed up. We assume it was a training march, and those packs look heavy!

I guess this is a good time to explain why it seems we’re racing through Europe. Many European countries have banded together and agreed to remove controls between their borders and allow free movement within what’s now called the Schengen zone, named after the village in Luxembourg where the original agreement was signed. That’s why there’s no longer passport control between, say, France and Germany. That’s a good thing. But the challenging part is that for non-Europeans like us, instead of getting a visa for each country and traveling from one to the next as you wish, a visitor is only allowed to stay in the entire zone for 90 days out of 180 days. There are now 29 countries in the agreement so that means we’re limited to 90 days in what amounts to most of Europe.

When we entered France, the clock started on our Schengen time and it won’t stop until we get to Türkiye, which is out of Schengen. So you can see why we have to keep moving. There’s a lot of ground to cover.

We have another challenge, and that’s the age of our van. Most European countries are serious about addressing global warming by reducing emissions. There are lots of cities or parts of cities where an old diesel-powered girl like Escape Velocity is not welcome. If we should inadvertently enter a low emission zone we could face some stiff fines.

And that’s why we took a circuitous route to our next destination, avoiding the green zones around Strasbourg, France, and Ulm, Germany. We didn’t mind so much, as this led us through the Black Forest on a beautiful sunny day.

We arrived at the banks of the Danube River at a point just before it becomes navigable. It’s from very near this spot that Jack’s ancestors began their long journey down river. I’ve always admired the forebears who made the decision to leave everything and travel to a place unknown in hopes of a better life. It took guts. It still does.

Today’s cheeky parkup is through a hole in the wall. Well on its way to ruin, the parking lot appears to belong to an ex military administration building.

The walls show the pockmarked scars of war. It’s hard to decide if the squatters are moving in or are being forced out. We decide to reconnoiter because we’re hungry, it’s France and there’s a good chance of there being a patisserie in town.

We happen upon a large paved open town square in this tidy town, where small businesses have gathered on the periphery. The square is dominated by a large cathedral featuring flying buttresses and a strange flat topped bell tower whose spire must have topped over at some point.

From across the square Yours Truly spied what might be that patisserie mentioned earlier. Turned out to be the real thing.

After touring the town for a while and discussing what we might scrounge up for dinner from the larder in EV, we both came up with the solution, take out pizza. Yeah I know, doesn’t everybody come to France for pizza? Phalsbourg is not a nightlife kind of town.

So just when we began reaccesing our situation we turned a corner and a tiny shop was just opening up.

It’ll be a few minutes for the wood fire to heat up.

Wood fired pizza in a tiny town in northern France! Kismet. 

It was getting dark now and we were determined to eat at home so it was a quick trip across the square with time out for one last shot.