Two whole weeks have passed since I arrived in Prague. As of my last post Fredi, another American Michael (also on the three-week course), and I decided to go to Terezin, a transit and concentration camp during World War II. Originally a small and larger fortress built in the 1780s by the Hapsburgs as an outpost against possible Prussian incursions, the Nazi’s put the garrison town to use as a transit camp for mainly Austro-Hungarian Jewry who eventually were transported further east to Auschwitz and a few other extermination camps. Of the several hundred thousand transports somewhat over 3000 survived.
We walked around modern-day Terezin on an overcast day with a little rain. It’s really a quiet little place which seems to make its living on a combination of the Terezin Ghetto Memorial and several small businesses, including a Spanish furniture store and some small-scale factories. Our bus driver there was cold and unpleasant and seemed to scoff at those of us paying a visit to Terezin for the sole purpose of visiting the former ghetto. Of course, none of this was explicit, but this is what I sensed from time spent in Poland and discussions of the Holocaust. I think that for Poles especially, and to some extent Czechs, they want you to know that their countrymen also perished in these camps.
This marked my second trip to Terezin. The first was a guided tour from lovely Mr. Hruska (an old Czech-Jewish man who served as a guide in the Jewish quarter of Prague and himself somehow survived the war) along with my good friend Anna from the Education and Cultural Center for the Jewish Museum in Prague and a troop of Dutch Jews visiting Prague and Terezin. It’s an eerie thing to walk around the site of so much evil and destruction. Despite the fact that Terezin was not a “death camp” and that the Nazis even put up a charade for a visiting International Red Cross delegation, there are undeniably echoes of the dark past. Parts of the fortification were left pretty much as is. You are able to wander around the various rooms where prisoners belongings were itemized, clothes were washed, new arrivals showered, and the gate with the ominous phrase “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work makes Free”) under which prisoners passed. Words really can’t explain the bizarre feeling of visiting a concentration camp in the midst of a small town that has since moved on.
We walked around modern-day Terezin on an overcast day with a little rain. It’s really a quiet little place which seems to make its living on a combination of the Terezin Ghetto Memorial and several small businesses, including a Spanish furniture store and some small-scale factories. Our bus driver there was cold and unpleasant and seemed to scoff at those of us paying a visit to Terezin for the sole purpose of visiting the former ghetto. Of course, none of this was explicit, but this is what I sensed from time spent in Poland and discussions of the Holocaust. I think that for Poles especially, and to some extent Czechs, they want you to know that their countrymen also perished in these camps.
This marked my second trip to Terezin. The first was a guided tour from lovely Mr. Hruska (an old Czech-Jewish man who served as a guide in the Jewish quarter of Prague and himself somehow survived the war) along with my good friend Anna from the Education and Cultural Center for the Jewish Museum in Prague and a troop of Dutch Jews visiting Prague and Terezin. It’s an eerie thing to walk around the site of so much evil and destruction. Despite the fact that Terezin was not a “death camp” and that the Nazis even put up a charade for a visiting International Red Cross delegation, there are undeniably echoes of the dark past. Parts of the fortification were left pretty much as is. You are able to wander around the various rooms where prisoners belongings were itemized, clothes were washed, new arrivals showered, and the gate with the ominous phrase “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work makes Free”) under which prisoners passed. Words really can’t explain the bizarre feeling of visiting a concentration camp in the midst of a small town that has since moved on.
On Thursday I finally reconnected with my Czech friend Lenka who I have not seen for about 6 years. Lenka and I met in Regensburg, Germany, where we both spent a summer working as au-pairs. Lenka invited me to a friend’s birthday party in an old, old Czech house on the outskirts of Prague. I took the metro, a tram and walked up several steep hills before I finally set eyes on the place. Once I did, however, it was as if I had taken a trip back in time. The house appeared to have predated the Second World War and by most accounts had not changed all that much. Yes, there was a dishwasher, but the house for me was like walking around a historical artifact. Seeing old black and white pictures from the late 1800s or early 1900s topped it off. Perhaps it was the warm reception I received from Lenka’s friends, but I’d like to think the house itself welcomed me with its old world charm.
That night I spent a great deal of effort resurrecting my rusty Czech. God was gracious in helping me to understand a lot more than I could say. Of course, most of those present spoke a high degree of English, but not all and the majority of conversation took place in the native tongue. I learned my lesson of the week from Jirek, the self-proclaimed “Tiger Words”, supposedly an unbeatable Scrabble player with a close relative to Franz Kafka. To sum up, Jirek definitely has a way with words and he prodded me on in my efforts to learn Czech. According to the Czech Tiger, it’s best to start learning Czech now as it will be spoken in heaven one day, but will take an eternity to learn. And that my friends is just one example of the Czech sense of humor and spirit. I have to say I’m looking forward to heaven!
That night I spent a great deal of effort resurrecting my rusty Czech. God was gracious in helping me to understand a lot more than I could say. Of course, most of those present spoke a high degree of English, but not all and the majority of conversation took place in the native tongue. I learned my lesson of the week from Jirek, the self-proclaimed “Tiger Words”, supposedly an unbeatable Scrabble player with a close relative to Franz Kafka. To sum up, Jirek definitely has a way with words and he prodded me on in my efforts to learn Czech. According to the Czech Tiger, it’s best to start learning Czech now as it will be spoken in heaven one day, but will take an eternity to learn. And that my friends is just one example of the Czech sense of humor and spirit. I have to say I’m looking forward to heaven!
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