Sunday, June 25, 2017

Kazimierz: The Jewish quarter

Our second full day in Krakow (Saturday) was a slow start for the wives (Erin, Brittani, and Ashley) and Piotr, as the cohort had their first group meeting all morning. Ashley, Brittani, and I set off to scout out souvenirs and generally chit chat. It was a slowish but fun morning for us, and it was, apparently, a great morning of discussion for the cohort. They all seemed really energized by it when they showed up for lunch.

I passed these flowers in a market and took a picture for Claire. She loves pretty things.


After lunch, we set off for the Jewish quarter of Krakow: Kazimierz. You can read more about the long history of Kazimierz (the Polish king who created this part of the city named it after himself) on Wikipedia (it’s actually pretty interesting), but for the purposes of this blog post, I’ll just include the information that stuck out most to me.

Old map of Old Kazimierz
Kazimierz was historically the Jewish sector of Krakow, although the Jewish community did interact with their non-Jewish neighbors. When the Nazis arrived in Krakow, the Jews were relocated and relegated into a Jewish ghetto in a different part of town. Of the approximately 120,000 Jews living in Krakow at the beginning of the Nazi occupation of WWII, only 3,000 survived. 1,200 of those 3,000 survived due to Schindler’s factory (of Schindler’s List fame), which was located in Krakow. Today, only about 250 Jews still live in Kazimierz. Our tour guide commented on this by saying, “Nobody wants to live in a graveyard. Every corner tells a different story.” It was chilling to process that.

Street leading to the synagogue
photo credit: Piotr
Our tour was through the Old Synagogue. It’s not currently in use as a place of worship, only as a museum now. We had a great tour guide, although the acoustics of the synagogue made it difficult to hear him at many points during the tour. I know I missed all kinds of stuff because of being unable to hear, so the things that stuck out to me are very scattered. I would like to acknowledge that our tour guide, though not Jewish, had the most wonderful deference for the traditions and memories of the Jews of Krakow. Throughout the tour, he took every opportunity to point out any commonalities and similarities he has found between Jewish and Catholic cultures, very clearly in an attempt to forge a bridge. Poland is a deeply Catholic culture, most Poles viewing Catholicism as a part of being Polish from what I gathered, so I found it wonderful that he sought so genuinely to find human connections with those different from himself.

Old Synagogue
photo credit: Piotr


Much of the tour revolved around details of Jewish culture and worship practices. He explained the layout of the synagogue and the significance of the different elements. I loved him for his continual references to Fiddler on the Roof, as it is a favorite of mine. He pointed out that the eastern wall of the synagogue is the holiest location for prayers, and the poorer Jewish men were never able to experience that honor (like Tevye mentions in the musical). So, eventually, the poorer Jews of Kazimierz built another synagogue so that they would have the opportunity to pray at the eastern wall. We saw that synagogue later in the day, after our tour.

Inside the synagogue
photo credit: Piotr
I did not know that in Jewish culture (at least in pre-WWII Poland), women came out on top in divorce situations. Something about the way their dowries worked meant that the men would be left high and dry. Fascinating. Pre-War pre-nup options?
We also learned that bagels originated in Poland! The Polish Jews developed the method of baking bagels because the boiling phase of bagel-making serves as a cleansing phase (making things kosher). Brad and I have made bagels on a few occasions, so we understood the process he was referencing and felt super fancy in our knowledge.
My very favorite part of the tour, though, was when we were wandering around at the end of the tour, and I stumbled across the guest book. I found this written on a page dated that very day:
It says, ”This was my father’s synagogue in his youth before the wartime. He often spoke of it. I came to see his shul and to say the Keddish in his memory.”
I was so excited about it that I made a point to show it to everyone in our group that I could. How special is that? (Also, shul = synagogue and keddish (kaddish) = prayers of mourning.)
We walked around Kazimierz afterward and saw the “poor man’s” synagogue, as well as a monument made out of broken Jewish headstones. The Nazis bulldozed over many many Jewish headstones, but after the war ended, fragments of the broken headstones were gathered and made into a unique monument. Unfortunately, we had a camera malfunction and didn’t get a shot of it.

Poor man's synagogue. I thought it was beautiful.
While we were killing a bit of time before dinner, we came across a monument to Jan Karski. Piotr told us a bit about him: he was not Jewish, but he got himself sent to a concentration camp so he could see and experience what was happening. He managed to escape and then attempted to communicate to various world leaders the horrific conditions and heinous crimes being committed against the Jewish people and political prisoners. He didn’t find much help at first, as so much of what he reported sounded crazy and unbelievable. He continued his efforts, despite the roadblocks he encountered and became a hero to Jews and Poles. What a great story of bravery and courage.

Jan and Piotr.


Dinner was, once again, fabulous (and in Kazimierz). I actually decided to order a beef tip salad because I needed to go a little lighter than I had been. But never fear- I totally ordered dessert. And enjoyed every bite. We had really fun dinner conversations and laughed a lot (the cohort members we were sitting closest to didn’t delve into any super deep waters, which was a reprieve for my tired brain). The restaurant brought out apple cinnamon vodka shots to everyone at the end of our meal (probably because we’d ordered so much food). Now, I don’t drink, and I definitely don’t drink vodka, but I was intrigued by the “apple cinnamon” part, so I took the world’s tiniest sip. It tasted like apple pie! And alcohol. Which ruined it. I passed it along to someone else.
Both of our Polish-speaking, Krakow-familiar group members (Jared and Piotr) opted to stay out a bit longer after dinner, and Brad and I successfully guided everyone back to our hotel, a feat of which I am quite proud. Thanks, Greenbelt!
And then we crashed hard because of the jet lag and all the walking.

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