krakow

Booked a sleeper cabin for the journey from Berlin. Left from Lichtenburg station which is the most eastern I had been in the city. Bleak is an understatement. I had hoped that I would have the cabin all to myself. No such luck, two Polish blokes bailed in. It was a 6 berth cabin. Ah well. Then a Mother and Daughter. What grated me was it was the only cabin on the whole carriage that was occupied and I had about 4 cubic feet of space to store my stuff. Every storage area was already jammed with all manner of things. I went for a smoke on the platform, the train was not due to depart for a while. I was careful to take care of my valuables!

At the platform, three Spainards came along. They were having problems trying to get on board. They hadn't made a reservation. The train guy let them on for a handsome fee. I asked them where they were going; Russia. Had they a visa? No. They confidently brandished their Spanish national ID cards. I tried to talk them off the train as the Russians would most certainly turn them back at the border. 'Manana' indeed. Then they kept asking me questions as the train guy couldn't understand their English. Where can they smoke? Why hasn't he given them tickets? Is there a buffet? I suffered them for a while as one of the girls was a little cutie. In the end, I let them know that I wasn't working for the train company. I wonder if they liked Russia!

The funny thing about my cabin-frustration is that I read today that it's not uncommon for the cabin to be gassed. I ain't talking farts either. The occupants fall into a deep sleep and awake to see everything is gone. Thank God for my co-habitees.

I have found the Polish people to be universally polite. Come here and look at a queue for an ATM. They stand some 8 feet back from the person who is at the machine! I have noticed a gentle kindness in them. Once I was walking down a side road and I noticed a car slow down so as to avoid spraying me with water from a large pool. It wasn't the last time I noticed it either. Where I come from they would have a right old laugh to drench a pedastrain. Using the tiolets here are funny. A circle denoted ladies, a triangle for blokes. Strange Orwellian thing. Naturally I plumped for the wrong one on my first attempt. Also, you have to pay regardless of whether it's a pub, restaurant. Nice little earner.

Krakow itself is a medieval city. The town square was the largest in Europe during the era. It is dotted with many churches and a lot of pretty buildings. I found myself in an Irish bar on the first evening. I was amused by the sign on the door -'No kebabs allowed'. Hadn't known them to be drinkers! I agree with such a prohibition though, nasty little f*ckers! I was even more amused by Manchester Uniteds exit from the Champions League. A guy from Kildare ran the pub. Nice bloke but still a Manc! I think he got fed up with my goading. I was drinking beer with a high alcoholic content (unknown to me at the time) and one bloke nearly provoked me into hitting him. He is from Tallaght and his humour is of the smart ar*e, condesending variety. I wasn't going to put up with some gobsh*ite trying to give me sh*t. Such humour is very much the de rigeur with some Dubliners. I restrained myself though. Got lost on the way back to the hostel. A 10 minute walk became a 40 minute taxi journey. Ah well.

The next day I met a decent spud who hails from Austrailia, of Greek origin, living in London. Got all that? We met on the way to the death camp. Nearly got lost en route too. Got off at the wrong station. After we returned to Krakow, we arranged to meet later for beers. Beers indeed. A Polish beer hall, followed by a nightclub. There, I indulged in my usual silly drunken dancing routine. I think the locals were competing with me in ridiculous movements. Good to be among equally inept dancefloor folk. More significant were the wonderful sights. The exposed female mid-rift abounded. All beautiful women. Clearly sculptered by a grand master and things of great marvel. The music was okay but I gave little thought to its artistic integrity, the aesthetic was my thing. It was a great night.

Was still drunk when I woke up.

auschwitz-birkenau

I'll just mention numbers. That's how the Nazi's saw these people. Numbers.

1,500,000 people were murdered
20 sq km of terror, the camp surface area
800 people attempted to escape
142 were successful
7,000 SS guards oversaw the barbarity
840 of them were brought to justice!
7,500 victims were liberated by the Red Army

Pain and suffering; infinite.

Words do not suffice to explain the sheer horror of that hell on earth.

berlin part two

The kebab was a depth charge. It exploded in my stomach and I awoke feeling like sh*t. Took me a whole day to recover. I carried out my plan to see the many sights of Berlin regardless.

Kebabs, dreadful things.

Dragged myself around Berlin with great difficulty. Thankfully, I joined a tour which took in all of Berlins significant sights. Tourism by speed. I was entertained by seeing all the things of the city and more. It never occured to me that the former wall was so extensive. I had thought it just spilt the city in two. Silly. West Berlin was plop in the middle of eastern Germany. The good old GDR. The wall wrapped itself around the whole area of west Berlin. Some 164 km in all. Little remains.

I enjoyed seeing all the tourist things. Reichstag, old buildings (there are not many, 70% of the city was flattened during WW2) and hearing of the rich history of the city. The Jewish memorial is something special. It consists of 2,700 granite blocks, of varying size. The floor swerves, dips and pitches. The height of each stone block is irregular. The idea is to disorientate. Just like the feeling those who were murdered. I went back there at night to walk through its maze too. The stone block's are lacquered with a glaze. After this glazing, it was discovered that the company that manufactures it was the same company that produced Kylon B. The chemical used in the gas chambers. Tragidically ironic.

Berlin is a city of contradictions. A place both liberal and strict. A place where one cannot but be amazed by its rebirth. Valhalla. They claim to be the biggest building site after Shanghai. Wealth abounds yet the city authority is 60 billion euro in debt.

I like this city, I like the ever so accommodating people, I like the rhythm of the place.

Oh, I almost forgot, for one of my readers, a very pretty one at that. A princess, in fact! There are Irish pubs everywhere, in all cities. Everywhere I go, I cannot help but find one. Beijing, Seoul, Moscow and so on. There are 27 Irish pubs in Berlin alone.

Maybe I should write a book and call it 'Around the World in 80 Irish pubs'.....

sachsenhausen

While in Berlin, I thought it would a good idea to see another concentration camp. I plan to see only one more camp after this; Auschwitz. Camp Sachsenhausen is 35km out of the Berlin. It was built in 1936 as the 'model' camp. All precise geometry, clean lines, integrated security systems, teutonically efficient, etc. Himmler was very proud of it. Like Dachua, the available literature rarely agrees on the number of people murdered but a figure of 40,000 is the average, out of a passing population of 200,000 (1936-1945).

Because of its proximity to Berlin, it was first used as a centre for disposing of the political enemies of the nazi's, mainly communists. Then it spread to the other impure/untermenchen groups that we all know. I learned of more techniques employed by the SS. There is a circular 'shoe testing' track where some poor b*stards would have to walk endlessly around in circles for days, on pain of death. The unfortunate prisoners wore ill fitting, uncomfortable shoes and were told they were testing different shoe sole types for the military.

The SS had a 'sport' session where malnourished inmates had to jump on one foot, fall to their knees, squat and hop and so. If the prisoner failed to keep up with the impossibly rapid commands, they were beated senseless. Most were slave workers, forced marched up to 20 km a day to their place of work. They had to sing songs en route. Imagine it when you barely have energy to walk, to work, to breathe and then have to sing songs! They passed through towns and villages. Of course, no one knew what was happening in the camp! These are but some of the things I learnt. The horror, the horror.

I know I made a big deal of the teenager laughing in the gas chamber at Dachua. I found another example here. A Chinese girl, short, ugly, in her twenties. I saw her dancing and singing a child-like song while her mate recorded it on a digital camera. It was the kind of dance you would see on an weekday afternoon children's programme. This performance was much appreciated by her mates who all had a good old laugh. All I could do was shake my head in disgust.

The musuem authority tried to plant some trees in the compound as a rememerance some years ago. The problem was that the feet of so many unfortunate souls pressed the soil so tightly that the roots couldn't burrow and take hold. It is cursed soil, the soil of the dead.

So, my dancing queen, please skip, hop and laugh. The soil under your joyful dancing feet holds the tears and blood of countless numbers of people who never found Sachsenhausen to be a place of such hilarity.

post script three

1. It seems that every country I travel through has as a different browser preference and keyboard layout. The browser is only irritating in so far as it makes a balls of this blog. Mozilla being the main culprit. You type something, publish it, it disappears. Keyboards are a pain in the arse too. I bet I know everyway to type the @ sign now.

2. I have decided not to replace my mobile phone.

3. A number of people wrote after seeing the Bratislava post. I would like to clarify a couple of things. I always expected to lose things, get things knicked and so on. For this eventuality I had conditioned myself. So when it happened , it was a bummer but not an event that had any lasting impact. It was just a question of dusting myself off and carrying on.

berlin part one

Uneventual journey from Prague. Tried to sleep en route but couldn't.

My arrival at Zoo station had me singing to myself. I was really happy to be in Berlin. No, I hadn't been drinking. My tendency to sing to myself has got more pronouced since my ipod was taken from me. I'm subconciously compensating for its loss, I suppose. It comes across as a kind of madness to people who hear me. I don't care. I talk out loud to myself all the time these days. It's probably due to travelling alone. I like my own company!

The fact that my European journey started through the winter months amuses some people. It wasn't intentional. I now conclude that it is a great thing. Why? I'm passing through during the festive season. The winter markets are just wonderful. The lights, the people milling about, the excitement, the way I see people interact. I'm a dedicated people watcher. It gives me great joy. I'm constantly smiling at little children and their parents, watching the way they behave. I rarely feel the same paranoia as London when I do these things. Often, the parents in London shield their children thinking I'm some kind of paedophile. I just enjoy seeing people all happy and cheerful. Nothing more than that.

The hostel is wonderful. Kind of bohemian and studenty. I'm in a mixed dorm. I make silly attempts at Italian, there are a number of Italian girls in my room. They're pretty.They seem to like me, maybe from pity. I have no concerns about the basis to be honest. My linguistic abilities are limited but it is surprising what can be achieved when one wants to communicate. Little connections can be made.

I headed to an Irish pub. The Oscar Wilde. One quote made sense to me 'life is too short to be taken seriously'. A session band was playing. They were good. They were German too. That impressed me. They played a song called 'The west coast of Clare'. My Mother is from County Clare. I told them so. I had never heard it before but I told the it was the most beautiful rendtion I had ever heard. Soon after I bought the three of them a beer.

Berlin is a great place.

I skipped my way back to the hostel. Bought a kebab too, regrettably.