Berlin, Germany and Poznan, Poland

Poland's pre-war Jewish population of 3.9 million people has shriveled to just 300. The Holocaust is not mentioned in any Polish public high school curriculum. Konstanty Gebert, founder of the Polish-Jewish magazine, Midrasz writes that, “The word 'Jew' still cuts conversation at the dinner table. People freeze.” With this knowledge, not only of Polish history but of citizens' stalwart attitude toward Jewish people, I prepared for my tour of a nation of ghosts.

Each one of DIS' academic programs has its own week-long European study tour. The Migration and Multiculturalism program traveled to Latvia and Lithuania; the Psychology and Child Development Program spent the week in the Netherlands; and the Medical Practice and Policy program I'm in traveled first to Berlin, Germany and then to Poznán, Poland. Lines from children's books like "Friedrich" and images of emaciated prisoners inside concentration camp bunkers projected themselves boldly into my consciousness during our busride to Germany. I wanted to bury again these details of history, to prevent them from blinding my perception of the present. I worried what I would feel when we arrived. If I wondered constantly, "What some time warp turned the year back to 1940?" or "Will people walking on the street know I am a Jew?", I risked ruining what was basically meant to be a vacation.

Our first stop in Germany was in Oranienburg, at the Saschenhausen forced labor camp. There we typed the numbers of the camps' different sites—07, Infirmary or 11, The Gallows—into handheld audio devices through which a robotic woman's voice told us how many prisoners might be housed at one time or where prisoners might line up to be shot. We listened to stories of genocide spoken in the voice of someone perhaps literally non-human. While visiting Auschwitz, Birkenau, and Majdanek last summer, I often was struck silent with sadness or nausea. But in Saschenhausen, I felt angry. I felt less connected to my own experience. And after my friend Dan and I walked through the mass graves and an exhibit on Nazi medical experimentation, I felt like I wanted to get back on the bus.

When we arrived in West Berlin, my pre-occupation with history was dwarfed by metallic skyscrapers and drowned out by the whooshing of speeding cars. We had dinner at Unsicht Bar, where one of the restaurant's blind servers lead you to a pitch black room and serve you food that you can't see. We hung spoons from our noses, ate with our hands, and lifted our shirts all to the oblivion of our tablemates. We visited the Max Planck Institute for Molecular Genetics, where scientists are researching the genetic mechanisms of several syndromes, including mental retardation. We visited Berlin's Jewish Museum, which was designed by Daniel Libeskind, the architect of Copenhagen's Jewish Museum and the Freedom Tower, which will be built as a memorial to the World Trade Center in New York. The museum does not focus on the Holocaust, but rather on the story of Jews in Germany from medieval times until now. I was impressed with the scope of the museum and particularly delighted to find that the work of Charlotte Salomon, one of my favorite artists, was on exhibition. Charlotte Salomon was a German Jew who studied art in Berlin before World War II. At age 21, she entered into hiding in France with her grandparents, where she created a series of over 1300 painted panels of a work that translates to, "Life? Or Theater?" The story is scored with German music which Salomon also wrote herself. She was murdered in Auschwitz while seven months pregnant. To me, her paintings are a living reminder of the triumph of spirit and creativity over fear and madness.

As you can tell, I'm rushing through the retelling of the trip. I want to write so much more about Berlin and Poland, but I'm actually about to leave for the airport to fly to Paris tonight. I think I'll have to resume this entry or write a lengthier one soon. In short, my whole experience in Berlin and Poznán was more fulfilling and fun than I had ever imagined before stepping on the bus. I discovered firsthand the answer to my question about what it is to be Jewish in countries that only 60 years ago worked to exterminate Jewish culture and religion. Now I have begun to ask new questions.

Here are some of my pictures from last week:

Berlin, Germany
Poznán, Poland

I will try to write from Paris. Until then.