Poland: Auschwitz & Birkenau.

The glorious European summer continues to open the heavens. I’m losing my optimistic ‘summer is on the way’ attitude... as more flooding is expected. Any jokes about being a ‘wet blanket’ need to be put aside with wet shoes and a soggy attitude. 

I hear it’s sunny in London. And 30 degrees in Finland. Madness. Hope your enjoying it.

Auschwitz was a sobering day yesterday. For me the moment of surreal becoming the reality hit hard as I entered the 2^nd floor of block 7. Standing there staring at 40,000 pairs of shoes, children’s clothing, pots, pans and spectacles then lastly the 2 tones of human hair on display in a clear case… these personal items taken after a horrific death put the shock of what happened here into a chilling perspective.

I just couldn’t understand why after it was pointed out to not take pictures, people within our tour group still pulled out the camera and took a few keepsake shots on the side. Respect certainly comes with a very loose definition amongst some people.

Our guide; a local to the area, spoke in detail about the arrival of those to Auschwitz. Little did we know that some had purchased train tickets in advance on their own accord believing that they were going to be given an opportunity for a new life to escape from the already grim situation they were in.

Birkenau, the extermination camp 3km from Auschwitz, immediately has a dismal feel to it as we walked through the gates. Adding to the atmosphere was the lightening and thunder then subsequent downpour. You didn’t dare complain about wet shoes here – knowing that most of those at the camp didn’t even have the privilege to own a pair themselves even in the middle of winter.

Each year some of the 50 remaining known survivors return to the camp to remember life over death and pay their respects to the fallen. Walking around Birkenau you can’t comprehend what actually happened here the feeling that you’re walking over a mass gravesite and that most of the ashes were used to build the local roads.

Our day came to an end  - or depending on how you look at it, began again last night with an overnight train to Bratislava, Slovakia. Expecting no sleep, crammed in a 6-bed sleeper with other restless travelers we were not-so-quietly ahem, stoked when we realized that we had an entire compartment to ourselves (and the annoying drunk Brit wasn’t in ours). After making friends with the neighbors, waving out the window (to no-one) we were off out into the night.

Everyone mentioned that Bratislava isn’t quite the most exciting of cities. And we’ve learnt today that they weren’t telling lies.

After wandering the old town, drinking a cheap beer and trying the local chocolate, the only new item on the tourist agenda is to stare at the flooding riverbank.

That’s all there really is to say about this place, leaving me with little left to say.

So I’m going to completely change the subject and talk about jandels (or flip-flops, thongs, sandals… ). However you refer to a pair of rubber summer footwear they become a traveler’s best friend. I’m slowly getting reacquainted with mine. After a endless London winter they feel like a foreign object on my feet. Kylie is a seasoned ‘jandel’ traveler and doesn’t blink an eye lid as we get – yet another – look from a passerby. But do they know that my other shoes are soggy and smelly and would they ever appreciate the instant drying qualities in a pair of Havaiana’s?

Toodle pip x