*Content warning: some of the following images are graphic and may be hard to view*
Studying abroad gave me the incredible opportunity to visit a multitude of breathtaking places. I was fortunate enough to see cities like Santorini, Florence, and Barcelona. While these destinations were enchanting, I was also able to tour a location with a heavier atmosphere worth enduring for the sake of its historical significance: that is, the concentration camps located just outside Krakow, Poland.
Anyone who has read a history textbook is familiar with the atrocities that occurred during World War II. A quick refresher: From 1933-1945, roughly 6 million Jews were murdered by Adolf Hitler’s Nazi regime. A majority of the genocide took place at concentration and labor camps– most prevalently at Auschwitz and Birkenau. I had learned about the Holocaust throughout my adolescence at Hebrew school, in history classes and through movies, books, and personal accounts (such as Night by Elie Wiesel). No amount of studying could have prepared me for the emotions I felt during my tour. I watched films and read about the Holocaust from a distance all my life, but it wasn’t until I was standing on the train tracks that once transported hundreds of thousands to their deaths that I began to grasp the magnitude of what took place inside the fenced-in camps.
Upon entering Auschwitz, this infamous sign greeted me with the phrase “Arbeit Macht Frei,” which translates to “Work Makes You Free,” grimly suggesting the fate of the millions that suffered inside those gates.
One thing that struck me was the hallway of displays with seemingly endless piles of shoes. The Holocaust Memorial in Washington D.C. has a similar presentation that, in comparison, merely scratches the surface. This display was unlike anything I’d seen before.
There was a room right before the shoe display that shook us to the core. The guide told us photos were prohibited, and I quickly understood why. Tons and tons of human hair that had been cut and thrown into bags were packed into a fifty-foot-long case. My jaw dropped, and I shed a tear for the first time since entering the camp. Some of it was still colored, indicating the indiscriminate nature of Hitler’s Nazi regime: they selected young victims just as frequently as adults. In hindsight I am glad I don’t have a photo to remember this image, but I will never forget it.
Here is an image of the leftover cans found of “Cyclone B,” which was the gas used to poison and kill victims in the gas chambers. They represent the suffering that these innocent people endured; it took a slow and painful fifteen minutes for the gas to take full affect.
We also saw the last standing gas chamber that wasn’t detonated…followed by a capture of a crematorium where corpses were incinerated. Both absolutely bone-chilling.
This shot of Auschwitz is still unsettling to me. It was a beautiful, sunny day on my tour of the desolate camp. The atrocities that took place in these buildings and streets didn’t occur that long ago, and now it stands like a benign museum: a true juxtaposition. There’s actually a small town in the region, and I grapple to understand how people can go about their daily lives in such close proximity to a place like this.
Here is a sign next to Block 11, which was one of the most gruesome buildings in Auschwitz. Something as trivial-looking as a wooden sign is humbling, because it symbolizes something much larger than its tangible form.
This is the compact interior of the barracks at Birkenau. Prior to this day, I’d seen images of emaciated men in similar spaces, like this one of Elie Wiesel. Standing inside was an entirely different experience. According to my tour guide, at least fifteen men would be forced to live in these small cubbies of space, demeaned and packed like sardines.
I saw this lone rose secured in a barbed wire fence surrounding Birkenau. The bright, thriving flower contrasts greatly with the dismal aura of the camp.
I spent my day here alongside other tourists, but we were walking on soil where millions of innocent people once stood amid fear, cruelty and oppression. Although I can never truly understand the magnitude of the suffering that took place inside these camps, I believe I gained a deeper understanding of the atrocities the Nazi regime inflicted, as well as a profound sense of sorrow for all the lives affected by Hitler’s dictatorship. Although upsetting and confusing, my tour is an experience I will always keep in my thoughts. In my twenty-two years, this day was one of the most difficult, but I will be forever humbled by this experience and insight.
All photos courtesy of author