My last full day in Europe was spent on a day trip from Lyon to Chalon sur Saone, the city where Opa was imprisoned and escaped in 1942, leaving his mother behind.
I went with little knowledge of what happened in that city beyond Opa's recollection, admittedly doubtful in this area (he had thought he was either in Pithiviers or Drancy). The Internet offered little information beyond that there was some sort of prison center here in 1942. I went to see if anyone in the city knew any more.
First I went to the local office of tourism. I have learned that these places throughout France are often good places to find English speakers. The women there did not know anything about any prison camps, but suggested that I should speak to someone at a war memorial museum not far away. No one there had heard of any prison site either. Theirs was a memorial to the fallen French soldiers of the war, not victims of the Holocaust, an event that barely touched their rural city.
So I did not find much success here. I even spent time wandering near the train station (thinking that likely the prison would have been near the area most of the arrests were being made, on the trains) looking for a building that matched the description given by Opa. But he admitted in his journal that his impression of the place was influenced by his small size (he thought it was an enormous building with an 8 - 10 foot wall), and it is doubtful that the building still stands today in any event, so I found nothing.
But, like with all of my travels, my time in Chalon sur Saone will help me better write the parts of the story that take place here with better accuracy, so the day was not a wash.
It is both strange and exciting to think that it is nearly time to go home. I am very happy and proud of my accomplishments on this trip.
Tomorrow will be spent mostly on trains to Paris and then Amsterdam where I will stay overnight in the airport and I fly home around 1 PM local time on the 2nd to New York City. It is an eight hour flight, but because of the time difference I will land around 3 PM Eastern, and then I have one more flight to Detroit and I fly from there to Burlington. I am not looking forward to that jet lag!
Until tomorrow!
Showing posts with label Heinz Najman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heinz Najman. Show all posts
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Toulouse to Lyon 30th May 2013
Today's time traveling was well spent in discussion - albeit in a convoluted mixture of my own broken French and her broken English - with a very sweet woman regarding Opa, his mother, my family, and her family. It made the time pass quickly and I was moved, once more, by how supportive of my project everyone I meet has been.
And, geographically speaking, I was not prepared at all for what I saw on this train ride. I am ashamed to admit, "geographer" that I am, that I had little sense of where exactly Toulouse was relative to Lyon, and additionally I had no preexisting notion of what southeastern France is like; I can tell you now, it is beautiful.
Toulouse is farther south, and the Mediterranean farther north, than I thought. Imagine my surprise to look out the window at a sandy beach lapped by the brightest-blue water I had ever seen. Noting my fascination, my riding companion said, simply, "C'est la mer. La mer Méditeranée." I never expected it. The Mediterranean snuck up on me. Some geographer! Looking at the map now, of course we would skirt the coast. What an exciting surprise! If only I could have got out!
And then it was gone. And at Nîmes, so too was my intrepid amateur tour guide. But the land was no less impressive.
From Nîmes we sped almost directly north through some of the most rugged terrain I have ever seen. Mountains seemingly composed of nothing but fist-sized rubble shot up into the sky, clad in hardy evergreens, the occasional vineyard (which look eerily like the war graveyards, neat rows as far as the eye can see) and a scrubby little undergrowth resplendent with yellow and pink flowers that made their lives in such a seemingly sparse area. It was beautiful in its alienness and I really wish I could spend time there: there were miles of shoulder-width walking paths through the underbrush begging to be explored. Perhaps someday!
It's funny what time does to language. Trying to talk to the woman, I found myself very near to answering her French in German (I took German this semester for the first time) despite the fact I took two semesters of French in high school. I am much more comfortable in German than in French. I ended up showing her the pictures I have of Opa, his family, etc., and she understood everything I was saying much better than when I had been trying in elementary French! She told me I have Opa's eyes. I wanted to hug her for that.
There are hourly trains from here to Chalons sur Saone, so I will spend tomorrow there. I am not sure what I will find, if anything, but the best way to see is to go! Then my real last day in Europe will be over, already! I travel the next day to Paris where I take a connecting train to Amsterdam and will stay in the airport there for roughly 13 hours or so before heading home. If I smell when I land, Mom and Dad, I'm sorry! Just sit me next to Trey on the ride back!
Until tomorrow, readers!
P.S. Everyone who has been enjoying my blog over the course of this month, and who is disappointed now that it is coming to an end, should take a moment and check out my good friend Ethan's nascent blog, Summer Adventures of a Northwoods Wildlife Intern, where he details the incredibly interesting day to day life of a wildlife refuge in Wisconsin. His posts are funny, exciting, and I am jealous of the fact that he gets to have such a cool job for the summer! Give it a read and follow him as loyally as you have been following this blog (I'm thankful for that, by the way!)
Au revoir!
And, geographically speaking, I was not prepared at all for what I saw on this train ride. I am ashamed to admit, "geographer" that I am, that I had little sense of where exactly Toulouse was relative to Lyon, and additionally I had no preexisting notion of what southeastern France is like; I can tell you now, it is beautiful.
Toulouse is farther south, and the Mediterranean farther north, than I thought. Imagine my surprise to look out the window at a sandy beach lapped by the brightest-blue water I had ever seen. Noting my fascination, my riding companion said, simply, "C'est la mer. La mer Méditeranée." I never expected it. The Mediterranean snuck up on me. Some geographer! Looking at the map now, of course we would skirt the coast. What an exciting surprise! If only I could have got out!
And then it was gone. And at Nîmes, so too was my intrepid amateur tour guide. But the land was no less impressive.
From Nîmes we sped almost directly north through some of the most rugged terrain I have ever seen. Mountains seemingly composed of nothing but fist-sized rubble shot up into the sky, clad in hardy evergreens, the occasional vineyard (which look eerily like the war graveyards, neat rows as far as the eye can see) and a scrubby little undergrowth resplendent with yellow and pink flowers that made their lives in such a seemingly sparse area. It was beautiful in its alienness and I really wish I could spend time there: there were miles of shoulder-width walking paths through the underbrush begging to be explored. Perhaps someday!
It's funny what time does to language. Trying to talk to the woman, I found myself very near to answering her French in German (I took German this semester for the first time) despite the fact I took two semesters of French in high school. I am much more comfortable in German than in French. I ended up showing her the pictures I have of Opa, his family, etc., and she understood everything I was saying much better than when I had been trying in elementary French! She told me I have Opa's eyes. I wanted to hug her for that.
There are hourly trains from here to Chalons sur Saone, so I will spend tomorrow there. I am not sure what I will find, if anything, but the best way to see is to go! Then my real last day in Europe will be over, already! I travel the next day to Paris where I take a connecting train to Amsterdam and will stay in the airport there for roughly 13 hours or so before heading home. If I smell when I land, Mom and Dad, I'm sorry! Just sit me next to Trey on the ride back!
Until tomorrow, readers!
P.S. Everyone who has been enjoying my blog over the course of this month, and who is disappointed now that it is coming to an end, should take a moment and check out my good friend Ethan's nascent blog, Summer Adventures of a Northwoods Wildlife Intern, where he details the incredibly interesting day to day life of a wildlife refuge in Wisconsin. His posts are funny, exciting, and I am jealous of the fact that he gets to have such a cool job for the summer! Give it a read and follow him as loyally as you have been following this blog (I'm thankful for that, by the way!)
Au revoir!
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Paris to Toulouse 26th May 2013
As I course over the French countryside on a high speed InterCity train it has occurred to me that the most beautiful days seem to be travel days when I cannot enjoy the sun and its warmth because I am stuck in a metal tube hurtling along at 165 km/h. C'est la vie, I suppose. It is still snowing in Vermont, though. Rebecca posted a picture this morning that I feel warrants attention here:
So I will take a sunny day on the train in France.
Leaving Paris was a strange experience. My time there was certainly the most rewarding yet. In numerous places I have seen the Hebrew supplication Zachor, "remember." This concept, as I have immersed myself in my research, has taken on a new and personal meaning.
I think that one of the most intriguing and worrisome truths regarding Holocaust studies is that while the Holocaust as an event is one of the most researched topics in human history it seems that remembrance, true zachor, is more and more difficult to ensure. This is a nascent idea for me and I welcome comment and apologize in advance if it is controversial.
In my own American education I was taught a good but overwhelmingly broad history of the Holocaust. I worry that this teaching style might be damaging. "Six million Jews were killed," we are told, "simply because they were Jewish." But when we view the issue through such a wide lens we lose sight of the fact that each of those six million was a person, a human being with a life story. Perhaps they were Heinz Najman, a 13 year old boy, never devoutly Jewish but hunted for it anyway. Perhaps they were Bernard Najman, only 2 years old, never given the chance to decide what Judaism meant to him before he was sentenced to the gas chamber for it. I am reluctant to view the Holocaust as anything that happened "simply because," because that logic seems almost to lend itself to the logic of Nazism itself.
I rather think that the Holocaust should be told personally. This is what I will try to do with Heinz. Opa and his family were far more than simple Jewish victims of Nazi hatred; they were human beings with wants and needs and they ought to be treated as such in any telling of their tale. To reduce them to the identity Hitler sought to impose on them would be a dramatic and hurtful disservice.
I think that an education in this vein can also stir interest that other pedagogic styles cannot. Anne Frank's story was remarkably touching and relatable because of its intimately personal nature. Anne was a living person with emotion and depth, no matter how adamantly Nazi propaganda claimed otherwise. Heinz Najman, too, was a human being, resisting his oppressors from the first day that they threatened him and his family, never passive as the word "victim" implies. And I am remarkably and unstatably proud to descend from such a person.
This is not to say that such personal narratives do not exist. Indeed great work has been done and continues to be undertaken to document and share the lives of those people killed during the Shoah. But I worry that many general Holocaust education methods gloss over the humanity of those killed by lumping them together in the decidedly inhuman abstraction "Jewish victims."
What does this mean? I think that educators should take caution in all cases of genocide because it is incredibly easy in teaching such subjects to slip into faceless and yeastless statistics and generalities. I ask that, instead, educators should highlight the humanity of those killed, as this humanity is the very thing those perpetrating genocide try to deny. We have not yet learned, despite all the time and money dedicated to studying the Holocaust, how to prevent genocide. Several are ongoing today.
Perhaps it is time for a new way to teach this subject.
So I will take a sunny day on the train in France.
Leaving Paris was a strange experience. My time there was certainly the most rewarding yet. In numerous places I have seen the Hebrew supplication Zachor, "remember." This concept, as I have immersed myself in my research, has taken on a new and personal meaning.
I think that one of the most intriguing and worrisome truths regarding Holocaust studies is that while the Holocaust as an event is one of the most researched topics in human history it seems that remembrance, true zachor, is more and more difficult to ensure. This is a nascent idea for me and I welcome comment and apologize in advance if it is controversial.
In my own American education I was taught a good but overwhelmingly broad history of the Holocaust. I worry that this teaching style might be damaging. "Six million Jews were killed," we are told, "simply because they were Jewish." But when we view the issue through such a wide lens we lose sight of the fact that each of those six million was a person, a human being with a life story. Perhaps they were Heinz Najman, a 13 year old boy, never devoutly Jewish but hunted for it anyway. Perhaps they were Bernard Najman, only 2 years old, never given the chance to decide what Judaism meant to him before he was sentenced to the gas chamber for it. I am reluctant to view the Holocaust as anything that happened "simply because," because that logic seems almost to lend itself to the logic of Nazism itself.
I rather think that the Holocaust should be told personally. This is what I will try to do with Heinz. Opa and his family were far more than simple Jewish victims of Nazi hatred; they were human beings with wants and needs and they ought to be treated as such in any telling of their tale. To reduce them to the identity Hitler sought to impose on them would be a dramatic and hurtful disservice.
I think that an education in this vein can also stir interest that other pedagogic styles cannot. Anne Frank's story was remarkably touching and relatable because of its intimately personal nature. Anne was a living person with emotion and depth, no matter how adamantly Nazi propaganda claimed otherwise. Heinz Najman, too, was a human being, resisting his oppressors from the first day that they threatened him and his family, never passive as the word "victim" implies. And I am remarkably and unstatably proud to descend from such a person.
This is not to say that such personal narratives do not exist. Indeed great work has been done and continues to be undertaken to document and share the lives of those people killed during the Shoah. But I worry that many general Holocaust education methods gloss over the humanity of those killed by lumping them together in the decidedly inhuman abstraction "Jewish victims."
What does this mean? I think that educators should take caution in all cases of genocide because it is incredibly easy in teaching such subjects to slip into faceless and yeastless statistics and generalities. I ask that, instead, educators should highlight the humanity of those killed, as this humanity is the very thing those perpetrating genocide try to deny. We have not yet learned, despite all the time and money dedicated to studying the Holocaust, how to prevent genocide. Several are ongoing today.
Perhaps it is time for a new way to teach this subject.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Paris 22nd May 2013
Honestly, the immensity of today can not be overstated. If I were to add all of the information I have found prior to today (roughly two to two and a half years of work online) it would still pale in comparison to 22nd May, 2013 in Paris. I have found the missing piece. I understand now. My God. Honestly. I have never felt like I do right now.
Opa's memoirs in English were written far after the fact and, despite some few "holes" of informations, are remarkably detailed. I am more and more impressed with his ability to remember specific addresses in each city as well as the names of neighbors, etc. My main work has been derived from these English memoirs, but there is also a fragment of what appears to be a contemporary account of the incident written by Opa shortly after he arrived in Switzerland. This short piece is written in German.
For the most part these stories corroborate, but on one key issue they diverged: his English report led me to assume he had been interned at Drancy, a camp just north of Paris, based on the fact that his mother was eventually deported from there to Auschwitz. But the German account states that he was actually Pithiviers, another camps, and implies that he was separated from his mother there. To further confuse matters, records for him do not exist at either Pithiviers or Drancy, though they do at both for his mother (she was sent from Pithiviers to Drancy and then to Auschwitz). This led me to question my preexisting notion: perhaps Opa was never at either camp, and they were separated somewhere else.
His mother's information cards were regrettably vague. No hints as to her location prior to Pithiviers were offered. But Opa's memoirs, once again incredibly detailed, mentioned the names of various extended family members with whom he and his mother were traveling when they were arrested. Among this number was one Rosa Brykman, his cousin, the 16 year old daughter of his mother's older sister. In his English memoir Opa noted that when he left his mother he also left Rosa. It occurred to me that Rosa very likely followed the same trail as Opa's mother and may shed light on the mystery location where they were all imprisoned together.
And that was it. Rosa was the key. She was kept with Opa's mother until their similar murders at Auschwitz. But where Chana Najman's cards were bereft of information regarding their detention prior to Pithiviers, Rosa Brykman's cards had a single line: "Prison de Chalons sur Saone."
And there it was. Chalons sur Saone is a city south east of Paris very near the demarcation line that separated the German-occupied portion of France from Vichy ("Free") France, and it was here that Opa, his mother, Rosa Brykman, and three distant relations (one of whome, Paulette Weinbush, he escaped with) were all imprisoned together. This is my missing piece. It was not a concentration camp, not even a transit camp like Drancy, but more of a haphazard detention center erected as a staging point. It was this piecemeal nature of the prison at Chalons sur Saone that allowed the French Gendarme the opportunity to help Opa and Paulette escape. Chalons sur Saone is the last place Opa saw his mother.
Needless to say, I am going to Chalons sur Saone. It is an hour's ride from Lyon, so I will go on 31st May.
Almost as an after thought (relatively speaking) I found information on twelve (!!!) relatives: Pesacc Najman, my Opa's uncle, his wife and their four children, and Cyrla Brykman nee Szmckier, Opa's mother's older sister, her husband and their four children, including the key Rosa. This trove of information itself is priceless. I owe an inordinate deal to the archives of the Memorial de la Shoah in Paris.
This evening I met Ashley and her boyfriend Jordan for coffee at an excellent cafe near Notre Dame. It was very nice to see her and meet Jordan for the first time. I hope to see her again stateside sometime soon!
Tomorrow I intend to visit Drancy.
Honestly I cannot begin to express the excitement that today has kindled in me. I am absolutely elated. There is nothing else to say.
I have no more words.
Opa's memoirs in English were written far after the fact and, despite some few "holes" of informations, are remarkably detailed. I am more and more impressed with his ability to remember specific addresses in each city as well as the names of neighbors, etc. My main work has been derived from these English memoirs, but there is also a fragment of what appears to be a contemporary account of the incident written by Opa shortly after he arrived in Switzerland. This short piece is written in German.
For the most part these stories corroborate, but on one key issue they diverged: his English report led me to assume he had been interned at Drancy, a camp just north of Paris, based on the fact that his mother was eventually deported from there to Auschwitz. But the German account states that he was actually Pithiviers, another camps, and implies that he was separated from his mother there. To further confuse matters, records for him do not exist at either Pithiviers or Drancy, though they do at both for his mother (she was sent from Pithiviers to Drancy and then to Auschwitz). This led me to question my preexisting notion: perhaps Opa was never at either camp, and they were separated somewhere else.
His mother's information cards were regrettably vague. No hints as to her location prior to Pithiviers were offered. But Opa's memoirs, once again incredibly detailed, mentioned the names of various extended family members with whom he and his mother were traveling when they were arrested. Among this number was one Rosa Brykman, his cousin, the 16 year old daughter of his mother's older sister. In his English memoir Opa noted that when he left his mother he also left Rosa. It occurred to me that Rosa very likely followed the same trail as Opa's mother and may shed light on the mystery location where they were all imprisoned together.
And that was it. Rosa was the key. She was kept with Opa's mother until their similar murders at Auschwitz. But where Chana Najman's cards were bereft of information regarding their detention prior to Pithiviers, Rosa Brykman's cards had a single line: "Prison de Chalons sur Saone."
And there it was. Chalons sur Saone is a city south east of Paris very near the demarcation line that separated the German-occupied portion of France from Vichy ("Free") France, and it was here that Opa, his mother, Rosa Brykman, and three distant relations (one of whome, Paulette Weinbush, he escaped with) were all imprisoned together. This is my missing piece. It was not a concentration camp, not even a transit camp like Drancy, but more of a haphazard detention center erected as a staging point. It was this piecemeal nature of the prison at Chalons sur Saone that allowed the French Gendarme the opportunity to help Opa and Paulette escape. Chalons sur Saone is the last place Opa saw his mother.
Needless to say, I am going to Chalons sur Saone. It is an hour's ride from Lyon, so I will go on 31st May.
Almost as an after thought (relatively speaking) I found information on twelve (!!!) relatives: Pesacc Najman, my Opa's uncle, his wife and their four children, and Cyrla Brykman nee Szmckier, Opa's mother's older sister, her husband and their four children, including the key Rosa. This trove of information itself is priceless. I owe an inordinate deal to the archives of the Memorial de la Shoah in Paris.
This evening I met Ashley and her boyfriend Jordan for coffee at an excellent cafe near Notre Dame. It was very nice to see her and meet Jordan for the first time. I hope to see her again stateside sometime soon!
Tomorrow I intend to visit Drancy.
Honestly I cannot begin to express the excitement that today has kindled in me. I am absolutely elated. There is nothing else to say.
I have no more words.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Paris 21st May 2013
Today was a very productive day! My friend Ashley was right in telling me that walking around Paris like I did in Vienna or Brussels simply isn't practical. The City of Light is huge and my hostel is fairly far from the city center. Fortunately the metro system is relatively cheap and, compared to Brussels', very comprehensive.
My first stop this morning was the Gare du Nord, the train station at which I arrived yesterday, to attempt to make reservations for each of my remaining trains and fix the one I made a mistake on in Belgium. The line to talk to someone about the tickets was long but the worker was friendly, a nice change from the opposite (short line, angry people) in Belgium.
Unfortunately I couldn't simply change my Toulouse reservation to Lyon. Why? Because it was made in Belgium. Gosh. But it was only 9€, so I made a correct reservation from Lyon and my trip on the 1st of June is now assured: I will make it back to the USA!
More unfortunately, all the trains to Pau in the time frame I need are fully booked. I will not be able to get there as planned. But I didn't give up: I've learned on this trip that there are usually alternative ways to do anything you'd like to do, even when it looks improbable. I made a reservation to Toulouse two days earlier than I previously planned to arrive there and extended my hostel reservation there. Toulouse is fairly close to Pau anyway, and trains from there to the mountain city do not require reservations. I will visit Pau as a day trip from Toulouse. It all works out. Aside for that my trains are reserved as planned and I am good to go! Exciting. I did not even have to pay a cancellation fee in Pau because I did it early enough, and I actually ended up saving about 30€ because the hostel in Toulouse is cheaper than the hotel in Pau would have been!
Next I headed south nearly to the Seine and visited the Holocaust memorial. I didn't expect much more than a museum there but was pleasantly surprised. On their wall of names I found Chana Najman, my great grandmother, which was very moving. But, in addition, the top floor of the memorial is an easily accessible archive with bilingual archivists!
This place housed microfiche copies of the Paris police records (no info relevant to my project) as well as the records of both the Pithiviers and Drancy camps. The very helpful archivist aided me in searching for Chana (we found some excellent info... She was interned first at Pithiviers from 10-22 August, 1942 and then sent to Drancy where she was held for only four days until 26 August when she was deported to Auschwitz... More evidence for the timeline of events) and for Opa, who interestingly seems to have no existing record at either place. I am puzzled by this because his memoirs place him with her. But there are numerous possibilities. Tomorrow I will go back with information regarding his extended family, cousins with whom he lived in Paris, as their information may give further light to information on him.
After that I ate lunch at a cool little deli and walked to 45 Rue des Francs Bourgeois, where Opa and Chana lived with those cousins in Paris for some time. It was not far from the memorial and on the way I passed a beautiful synagogue. Perhaps Opa prayed there, though I have my doubts. In any case, maybe I will be able to attend services here on Friday.
The apartment building on Rue des Francs Bourgeois made a strong impression on Opa. Judging by his description and the state of the street today I should guess that his cousins were well off. They owned a clothing store on the street level and lived above it. The street still houses a clothing store but the woman inside told me it is only three years old and was previously a library. Either way this is certainly the most luxurious neighborhood Opa lived in: the entire street is lined with elegant and beautiful old hotels, most built before 1600.
I walked west, on Dr. Fouberg's suggestion, to the Tuileries Garden and the Louvre, both beautiful. I sat in the garden and watched people and birds and then headed back on the subway to my hostel. I cooked dinner and did laundry tonight, too.
My tentative schedule is to visit the archive again tomorrow along with more sight seeing and then meet Ashley and her boyfriend tomorrow evening at a cafe. Thursday and Friday I plan to take trips to the Drancy and Pithiviers memorials respectively.
Sidenote: I have officially filled half of my notebook. Forty pages!
Until tomorrow!
My first stop this morning was the Gare du Nord, the train station at which I arrived yesterday, to attempt to make reservations for each of my remaining trains and fix the one I made a mistake on in Belgium. The line to talk to someone about the tickets was long but the worker was friendly, a nice change from the opposite (short line, angry people) in Belgium.
Unfortunately I couldn't simply change my Toulouse reservation to Lyon. Why? Because it was made in Belgium. Gosh. But it was only 9€, so I made a correct reservation from Lyon and my trip on the 1st of June is now assured: I will make it back to the USA!
More unfortunately, all the trains to Pau in the time frame I need are fully booked. I will not be able to get there as planned. But I didn't give up: I've learned on this trip that there are usually alternative ways to do anything you'd like to do, even when it looks improbable. I made a reservation to Toulouse two days earlier than I previously planned to arrive there and extended my hostel reservation there. Toulouse is fairly close to Pau anyway, and trains from there to the mountain city do not require reservations. I will visit Pau as a day trip from Toulouse. It all works out. Aside for that my trains are reserved as planned and I am good to go! Exciting. I did not even have to pay a cancellation fee in Pau because I did it early enough, and I actually ended up saving about 30€ because the hostel in Toulouse is cheaper than the hotel in Pau would have been!
Next I headed south nearly to the Seine and visited the Holocaust memorial. I didn't expect much more than a museum there but was pleasantly surprised. On their wall of names I found Chana Najman, my great grandmother, which was very moving. But, in addition, the top floor of the memorial is an easily accessible archive with bilingual archivists!
This place housed microfiche copies of the Paris police records (no info relevant to my project) as well as the records of both the Pithiviers and Drancy camps. The very helpful archivist aided me in searching for Chana (we found some excellent info... She was interned first at Pithiviers from 10-22 August, 1942 and then sent to Drancy where she was held for only four days until 26 August when she was deported to Auschwitz... More evidence for the timeline of events) and for Opa, who interestingly seems to have no existing record at either place. I am puzzled by this because his memoirs place him with her. But there are numerous possibilities. Tomorrow I will go back with information regarding his extended family, cousins with whom he lived in Paris, as their information may give further light to information on him.
After that I ate lunch at a cool little deli and walked to 45 Rue des Francs Bourgeois, where Opa and Chana lived with those cousins in Paris for some time. It was not far from the memorial and on the way I passed a beautiful synagogue. Perhaps Opa prayed there, though I have my doubts. In any case, maybe I will be able to attend services here on Friday.
The apartment building on Rue des Francs Bourgeois made a strong impression on Opa. Judging by his description and the state of the street today I should guess that his cousins were well off. They owned a clothing store on the street level and lived above it. The street still houses a clothing store but the woman inside told me it is only three years old and was previously a library. Either way this is certainly the most luxurious neighborhood Opa lived in: the entire street is lined with elegant and beautiful old hotels, most built before 1600.
I walked west, on Dr. Fouberg's suggestion, to the Tuileries Garden and the Louvre, both beautiful. I sat in the garden and watched people and birds and then headed back on the subway to my hostel. I cooked dinner and did laundry tonight, too.
My tentative schedule is to visit the archive again tomorrow along with more sight seeing and then meet Ashley and her boyfriend tomorrow evening at a cafe. Thursday and Friday I plan to take trips to the Drancy and Pithiviers memorials respectively.
Sidenote: I have officially filled half of my notebook. Forty pages!
Until tomorrow!
Friday, May 17, 2013
Brussels 17th May 2013
Today has been one of significant ups and downs... I am not sure now whether I am satisfied with how the day went or not.
I started by walking north toward Rue Verte 3, the address of the building in which Opa and his family lived once they reached Belgium in late 1938. It was a fairly long walk (something like two miles) in the rain and I was soaked by the time I reached it. The street is in a much more modern area of town than most of the city center and, much like Klosterneuburger Strasse in Vienna, today it is a poor neighborhood inhabited primarily by Moroccan and Turkish immigrants. I could not find no. 3, so I entered a nearby hotel and asked if either man inside knew of it. One of the men went out with me (in a suit in the rain! They were both very nice) and explained that nos. 1 - 7 all referred to one building demolished only the previous month! It had housed Islamic immigrants for at least sixteen years (as long as he had worked in the hotel) and then been abandoned in the last few. He did not know if the building had stood in the late 1930s.
They also looked up the name Blanchet for me in the phone book online, as a "Mrs. Blanchet, Rue Verte 3" was listed as a reference for the Najmans on the paperwork I found yesterday at the National Archive. Alas, no Blanchets remain today on Rue Verte. C'est la vie.
I wandered my way back to the hostel to dry off, stopping on the way at a large cathedral (signs simply called it "the Cathedral," so it seemed worth a stop), very pretty and impressive.
I cooked my most ambitious meal yet when I arrived back at the hostel. I wondered what it might take to make my own pasta sauce, and recipes I found online did not look difficult, so I gave it a shot. For those who want to play the "Cook Across Europe with Mike" game, it went something like this: I bought canned whole peeled tomatoes, hand crushed them to the right consistency, grated a carrot, chopped an onion and a clove of garlic, boiled them all together and enjoyed the delicious results. I was really impressed. It tasted something like Oma's pasta sauce and the Olive Garden's mixed. So I can't be doing too badly. Protip: 1.2 kilograms of canned tomatoes makes WAY more sauce than one person needs. Again, I am really enjoying cooking and the whole thing cost me €3.83. Can't complain about that...
At 6:00 PM I headed to the Rue de la Regence to attend services at the Great Synagogue. I am starting to get a feel for the city and can navigate fairly well. I got there around 6:30 but the doors were closed, so I did what is best outside a synagogue: I loitered.
It did not take long before a passing woman looked at me suspiciously and reported me to security. A nice man in his early 30s greeted me firmly and asked what exactly I was waiting for. I told him that I would like to attend the service, and a bit about my project. I showed him my passport, and he asked me if I frequented any Jewish communities in the US. I told him that I did not, and he told me that I would not be allowed to enter tonight.
This essentially boiled down to me not being "Jewish enough." He insisted that it is a matter of security, and I understand that, certainly. But it was honestly a little hurtful to not be accepted by a community that I have felt more and more tied to as this project has progressed. It is, frankly, a disappointing commentary on our time that houses of worship of any denomination should feel the need to resort to insularity to defend themselves from perceived threats. I think for the Jews this feeling is doubly strong given both the historic and contemporary tensions that they have and do face as a group.
Anyway, he was just doing his job. I will try in Paris next Friday if I can.
Tomorrow I may either see some last tourist sites in Brussels or, more probably, hop on a train from Centraal to Ypres, the city in Flanders made famous by numerous battles in World War I memorialized in the poem In Flanders' Fields. I memorized the poem in high school for Trem's English class, and I figure it's an excuse to get outside of the city. There are hourly trains and it is a two hour ride, so it should not be too bad.
Until tomorrow!
I started by walking north toward Rue Verte 3, the address of the building in which Opa and his family lived once they reached Belgium in late 1938. It was a fairly long walk (something like two miles) in the rain and I was soaked by the time I reached it. The street is in a much more modern area of town than most of the city center and, much like Klosterneuburger Strasse in Vienna, today it is a poor neighborhood inhabited primarily by Moroccan and Turkish immigrants. I could not find no. 3, so I entered a nearby hotel and asked if either man inside knew of it. One of the men went out with me (in a suit in the rain! They were both very nice) and explained that nos. 1 - 7 all referred to one building demolished only the previous month! It had housed Islamic immigrants for at least sixteen years (as long as he had worked in the hotel) and then been abandoned in the last few. He did not know if the building had stood in the late 1930s.
They also looked up the name Blanchet for me in the phone book online, as a "Mrs. Blanchet, Rue Verte 3" was listed as a reference for the Najmans on the paperwork I found yesterday at the National Archive. Alas, no Blanchets remain today on Rue Verte. C'est la vie.
I wandered my way back to the hostel to dry off, stopping on the way at a large cathedral (signs simply called it "the Cathedral," so it seemed worth a stop), very pretty and impressive.
I cooked my most ambitious meal yet when I arrived back at the hostel. I wondered what it might take to make my own pasta sauce, and recipes I found online did not look difficult, so I gave it a shot. For those who want to play the "Cook Across Europe with Mike" game, it went something like this: I bought canned whole peeled tomatoes, hand crushed them to the right consistency, grated a carrot, chopped an onion and a clove of garlic, boiled them all together and enjoyed the delicious results. I was really impressed. It tasted something like Oma's pasta sauce and the Olive Garden's mixed. So I can't be doing too badly. Protip: 1.2 kilograms of canned tomatoes makes WAY more sauce than one person needs. Again, I am really enjoying cooking and the whole thing cost me €3.83. Can't complain about that...
At 6:00 PM I headed to the Rue de la Regence to attend services at the Great Synagogue. I am starting to get a feel for the city and can navigate fairly well. I got there around 6:30 but the doors were closed, so I did what is best outside a synagogue: I loitered.
It did not take long before a passing woman looked at me suspiciously and reported me to security. A nice man in his early 30s greeted me firmly and asked what exactly I was waiting for. I told him that I would like to attend the service, and a bit about my project. I showed him my passport, and he asked me if I frequented any Jewish communities in the US. I told him that I did not, and he told me that I would not be allowed to enter tonight.
This essentially boiled down to me not being "Jewish enough." He insisted that it is a matter of security, and I understand that, certainly. But it was honestly a little hurtful to not be accepted by a community that I have felt more and more tied to as this project has progressed. It is, frankly, a disappointing commentary on our time that houses of worship of any denomination should feel the need to resort to insularity to defend themselves from perceived threats. I think for the Jews this feeling is doubly strong given both the historic and contemporary tensions that they have and do face as a group.
Anyway, he was just doing his job. I will try in Paris next Friday if I can.
Tomorrow I may either see some last tourist sites in Brussels or, more probably, hop on a train from Centraal to Ypres, the city in Flanders made famous by numerous battles in World War I memorialized in the poem In Flanders' Fields. I memorized the poem in high school for Trem's English class, and I figure it's an excuse to get outside of the city. There are hourly trains and it is a two hour ride, so it should not be too bad.
Until tomorrow!
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Brussels 16th May 2013
It has been a rainy and overcast day in Brussels which has done little to improve the past few days' impression of the city, but I had a productive day nonetheless and learned some exciting new information at the Belgian National Archives.
Because of the rain I decided to take the subway this morning. I was a bit alarmed when a man waiting outside the entry turnstiles sprinted to fit in directly behind me so he did not have to pay the fare... Before I realized what he was doing I was ready to hit him for running up on me so unexpectedly... I laughed afterward.
I got off the subway at Place de Palais, a large and vibrantly green park situated in front of the Royal Palace. The palace is the work place of the Belgian monarchy (they live in a castle on the outskirts of town), primarily constructed by Leopold II, that most genocidal of monarchs... It is an imposing building, though...
I wandered the Rue de la Regence all the way to the Palais de Justice, an enormous and important building in Belgium's court system. The plaza here allowed expansive views of the lower city. On the way I found the "Great Synagogue of Europe," a pretty building watched over (perhaps coincidentally) by a policeman armed with a rifle. Two men outside told me that I could not go in today, as prayers had just begun, but invited me to services at 7:00 PM tomorrow. I intend to go.
I had some considerable trouble finding the Nation Archive, but I stumbled upon the Belgian Jewish History Museum. I went inside and looked at the exhibits and then got directions to the archive from a friendly worker.
After considerable paperwork, I registered as a researcher at the archive and was granted access to the files found for me prior to my arrival by Evelyne Haendel (who has been incredibly helpful throughout the planning and execution of my project... Thank you!). I had no idea what to expect and was impressed by the documents. They showed the date of arrival for the Najmans in Belgium (creating a concrete timeline of events is very important for the project), they confirmed various pieces of Opa's memoirs (Moses Najman was arrested and imprisoned for ten brutal days on Kristallnacht), they showed me pictures, finger-prints, and the signatures of Moses, Chana, and Helene )Moses' is a beautiful signature... And I nearly cried when I saw Chana's...), and, perhaps most exciting, they gave me the names, birth dates, and birth places of Moses' and Chana's parents. I did not expect this information at all. I was able to expand my growing family tree by eight people... I am the descendent of Icek Najman, Chaja Billart, Simche Szmckier, and Reize Kamerman. I will expand my genealogical research to include these people. It is rare to discover eight ancestors in one sitting!
I took copious pictures: my time was limited and my French is neither perfect nor fast. One file did confuse me... It mentions Chana and Opa in Brussels but is dated 1945, three years after Chana was killed at Auschwitz and Opa had made his way to Switzerland. A hand written note on a document dated 1972 mentions this 1945 date but I cannot make out the scrawl, especially in French. I will have to study it more closely.
Anyway, that's enough for today. Tomorrow I will go to the address I found for the Najmans in Brussels and then to services at 7:00.
Until then!
Because of the rain I decided to take the subway this morning. I was a bit alarmed when a man waiting outside the entry turnstiles sprinted to fit in directly behind me so he did not have to pay the fare... Before I realized what he was doing I was ready to hit him for running up on me so unexpectedly... I laughed afterward.
I got off the subway at Place de Palais, a large and vibrantly green park situated in front of the Royal Palace. The palace is the work place of the Belgian monarchy (they live in a castle on the outskirts of town), primarily constructed by Leopold II, that most genocidal of monarchs... It is an imposing building, though...
I wandered the Rue de la Regence all the way to the Palais de Justice, an enormous and important building in Belgium's court system. The plaza here allowed expansive views of the lower city. On the way I found the "Great Synagogue of Europe," a pretty building watched over (perhaps coincidentally) by a policeman armed with a rifle. Two men outside told me that I could not go in today, as prayers had just begun, but invited me to services at 7:00 PM tomorrow. I intend to go.
I had some considerable trouble finding the Nation Archive, but I stumbled upon the Belgian Jewish History Museum. I went inside and looked at the exhibits and then got directions to the archive from a friendly worker.
After considerable paperwork, I registered as a researcher at the archive and was granted access to the files found for me prior to my arrival by Evelyne Haendel (who has been incredibly helpful throughout the planning and execution of my project... Thank you!). I had no idea what to expect and was impressed by the documents. They showed the date of arrival for the Najmans in Belgium (creating a concrete timeline of events is very important for the project), they confirmed various pieces of Opa's memoirs (Moses Najman was arrested and imprisoned for ten brutal days on Kristallnacht), they showed me pictures, finger-prints, and the signatures of Moses, Chana, and Helene )Moses' is a beautiful signature... And I nearly cried when I saw Chana's...), and, perhaps most exciting, they gave me the names, birth dates, and birth places of Moses' and Chana's parents. I did not expect this information at all. I was able to expand my growing family tree by eight people... I am the descendent of Icek Najman, Chaja Billart, Simche Szmckier, and Reize Kamerman. I will expand my genealogical research to include these people. It is rare to discover eight ancestors in one sitting!
I took copious pictures: my time was limited and my French is neither perfect nor fast. One file did confuse me... It mentions Chana and Opa in Brussels but is dated 1945, three years after Chana was killed at Auschwitz and Opa had made his way to Switzerland. A hand written note on a document dated 1972 mentions this 1945 date but I cannot make out the scrawl, especially in French. I will have to study it more closely.
Anyway, that's enough for today. Tomorrow I will go to the address I found for the Najmans in Brussels and then to services at 7:00.
Until then!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Brussels 15th May 2013
I've felt that something is "off" in Brussels since I got here, but I cannot quite put my finger on what exactly is wrong... The string of minor issues I mentioned yesterday compounded into a poor introduction to Belgium, and I think my "funk" may also have something to do with the location and nature of my hostel.
It is located in what is clearly a poor part of town, an Arabic and Islamic district, judging by the two nearby mosques, the "Gaza" stores, and the "Call Afghanistan: €0.16" signs. To see people piled into such a small space is difficult, particularly given the nature of my project, and it is hard to find Belgium's impressive imperial legacy, its grand gold-clad buildings, as beautiful when I walk through this area in the morning and am reminded of the costs of such splendor...
The hostel itself suffers from a similar syndrome... As opposed to the locally run Hostel Ruthensteiner in Vienna, the Meininger Brussels seems... corporate and detached... There are more people but fewer seem open to chatting... There are more staff but they seem flustered and annoyed rather than interested in the stories of their guests... And the stark modernism and emptyness of the building (formerly a brewery) seems indulgent in a place so crowded as I already mentioned.
But, in any case, I have to press on... I spent today wandering the city as I did on my first days in my previous two locations. Even with everything in mind, Brussels is an impressive city in places, with triumphant architecture that rivals those in Amsterdam and Vienna, remarkable considering that the Netherlands and Austria were historically more powerful on a world scale than Belgium ever was... In the back of my mind, though, I know that much of the wealth in Brussels, many of the imperial buildings and plazas and statues were funded by an exploitative genocide in the Congo that pre-dated the Holocaust and caused the deaths of an estimated ten million people... Each one of those people deserves a story like Heinz and will likely never get one.
I went to Central Station and tried to make reservations to go to Paris, but the high-speed Thalys train, privately run, charges a €30 reservation, so I have decided to take the slower non-reservation trains instead. I decided to make a reservation from Toulouse to Amsterdam on 1st June to ensure that I can get back for my flight to the US on 2nd June. I also tried to reserve a seat from Paris to Pau but the high-speed trains appear to be fully booked, which is alarming, but I was told to try again when I reach Paris. If worse comes to worst, I can take slower regional trains, but that will mean less time to spend in the city itself... I will worry about that when the time comes.
I cooked myself dinner again, this time I tried a new concoction: noodles fried in butter with onions, tomatoes, peppers, and garlic. It turned out to be really good! I don't know why I never tried cooking for myself before; I am really enjoying it, honestly.
Tomorrow I will go to the National Archives of Belgium and spend time there researching Opa's family during their time in Brussels. A woman from Liege who responded to my post on JewishGen.org was very helpful and verified for me that there are files to find there relating to Opa, his parents, and his sister Helen. I am excited to see what information they contain. I hope that they include a Brussels address I can visit.
On Friday night I intend to attend Jewish services. There is a synagogue not far from the Archive. I may find it tomorrow if I have time.
Until then!
It is located in what is clearly a poor part of town, an Arabic and Islamic district, judging by the two nearby mosques, the "Gaza" stores, and the "Call Afghanistan: €0.16" signs. To see people piled into such a small space is difficult, particularly given the nature of my project, and it is hard to find Belgium's impressive imperial legacy, its grand gold-clad buildings, as beautiful when I walk through this area in the morning and am reminded of the costs of such splendor...
The hostel itself suffers from a similar syndrome... As opposed to the locally run Hostel Ruthensteiner in Vienna, the Meininger Brussels seems... corporate and detached... There are more people but fewer seem open to chatting... There are more staff but they seem flustered and annoyed rather than interested in the stories of their guests... And the stark modernism and emptyness of the building (formerly a brewery) seems indulgent in a place so crowded as I already mentioned.
But, in any case, I have to press on... I spent today wandering the city as I did on my first days in my previous two locations. Even with everything in mind, Brussels is an impressive city in places, with triumphant architecture that rivals those in Amsterdam and Vienna, remarkable considering that the Netherlands and Austria were historically more powerful on a world scale than Belgium ever was... In the back of my mind, though, I know that much of the wealth in Brussels, many of the imperial buildings and plazas and statues were funded by an exploitative genocide in the Congo that pre-dated the Holocaust and caused the deaths of an estimated ten million people... Each one of those people deserves a story like Heinz and will likely never get one.
I went to Central Station and tried to make reservations to go to Paris, but the high-speed Thalys train, privately run, charges a €30 reservation, so I have decided to take the slower non-reservation trains instead. I decided to make a reservation from Toulouse to Amsterdam on 1st June to ensure that I can get back for my flight to the US on 2nd June. I also tried to reserve a seat from Paris to Pau but the high-speed trains appear to be fully booked, which is alarming, but I was told to try again when I reach Paris. If worse comes to worst, I can take slower regional trains, but that will mean less time to spend in the city itself... I will worry about that when the time comes.
I cooked myself dinner again, this time I tried a new concoction: noodles fried in butter with onions, tomatoes, peppers, and garlic. It turned out to be really good! I don't know why I never tried cooking for myself before; I am really enjoying it, honestly.
Tomorrow I will go to the National Archives of Belgium and spend time there researching Opa's family during their time in Brussels. A woman from Liege who responded to my post on JewishGen.org was very helpful and verified for me that there are files to find there relating to Opa, his parents, and his sister Helen. I am excited to see what information they contain. I hope that they include a Brussels address I can visit.
On Friday night I intend to attend Jewish services. There is a synagogue not far from the Archive. I may find it tomorrow if I have time.
Until then!
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Vienna to Brussels 14th May 2013
I am on the train again today, traveling the opposite direction as last time, heading to Brussels, Belgium. It is another long ride, just under 11 hours. But again it feels shorter than a similar time would on a plane, so it is not too bad. The weather is nice again, at least, so I get an excellent second look at the German countryside.
It seems strange that my time in Vienna is done... I have already been in Europe a week, and I have a little less than three left. I am very happy with my time spent in Vienna. I have a better feeling now for the city than I possibly could have a week ago, and that will certainly help me to write Heinz.
Visiting Opa's home was the most moving part of the trip to Vienna by far. It was strange to stand so near a place where Opa spent so much time, and where such injustice took place...
In this journal I have already written over 20 pages in my week in Europe, and I think it has been helpful in organizing my thoughts and keeping myself focused. It would be very simple to lose my way in the vastness of the cities I visit, in the vastness of Europe, but I have to stay on task.
Seeing Bavaria in its early summer makes me long for Vermont, though, and a string of chaotic occurrences on my arrival in Brussels (trouble finding my hostel, trouble finding an ATM, trouble finding food, only one washer and dryer for the entire hostel, and my padlock is too big for the lockers here!) have made me feel homesick (not for the first or last time, I am sure). I am enjoying this trip and my project, of course, but I will be happy to be home in June.
I also am inspired by my travels here to travel more in the US. Ethan, we've talked about it and you wanted a mention in my famous blog, so here it is: Let's make a trip happen, maybe on Thanksgiving like we discussed!
Anyway, I am tired. I am going to spend the rest of tonight relaxing and tomorrow I may meet my friend Kaylie who does not live far from Brussels and has offered to show me around the city. Then, as soon as possible, I will visit the national archives to see what information their records hold. I hope that there is an address, since Opa left none for Brussels, just a description of the area.
Until tomorrow, everyone!
It seems strange that my time in Vienna is done... I have already been in Europe a week, and I have a little less than three left. I am very happy with my time spent in Vienna. I have a better feeling now for the city than I possibly could have a week ago, and that will certainly help me to write Heinz.
Visiting Opa's home was the most moving part of the trip to Vienna by far. It was strange to stand so near a place where Opa spent so much time, and where such injustice took place...
In this journal I have already written over 20 pages in my week in Europe, and I think it has been helpful in organizing my thoughts and keeping myself focused. It would be very simple to lose my way in the vastness of the cities I visit, in the vastness of Europe, but I have to stay on task.
Seeing Bavaria in its early summer makes me long for Vermont, though, and a string of chaotic occurrences on my arrival in Brussels (trouble finding my hostel, trouble finding an ATM, trouble finding food, only one washer and dryer for the entire hostel, and my padlock is too big for the lockers here!) have made me feel homesick (not for the first or last time, I am sure). I am enjoying this trip and my project, of course, but I will be happy to be home in June.
I also am inspired by my travels here to travel more in the US. Ethan, we've talked about it and you wanted a mention in my famous blog, so here it is: Let's make a trip happen, maybe on Thanksgiving like we discussed!
Anyway, I am tired. I am going to spend the rest of tonight relaxing and tomorrow I may meet my friend Kaylie who does not live far from Brussels and has offered to show me around the city. Then, as soon as possible, I will visit the national archives to see what information their records hold. I hope that there is an address, since Opa left none for Brussels, just a description of the area.
Until tomorrow, everyone!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Vienna 12th May 2013
My Canadian friends have all left me! The four guys that work in Switzerland had to go back to work this week and the two Quebecois girls, Florence and Eve-Marie, who were so nice, have gone to enjoy the beaches of Croatia. And now everyone is telling me that I won't find English speakers in France... I could have used you to translate for me in Paris, Florence and Eve! But I guess I can't blame you for heading to the beach!
Otherwise, today was fantastic! I arranged with my cousin Andreas, who lives roughly two hours from here by car, to spend the day with him and his wife Manuela in Vienna. I had not seen them since I was young, and it was amazing to catch up.
We fit a great deal into one day. They picked me up at my hostel this morning and we went to a cafe for breakfast and discussed all the happenings in our extended family. Andreas is the son of my Oma's younger sister, but he knew Opa well, and it was great to talk together about our memories of him. I miss Opa more than I can explain... I know that my family understands this feeling, and Andreas too, even if he was not related by blood.
After breakfast we drove to Schloß Schönbrunn, the Summer Palace of the Hapsburg family. It is an incredibly large and ornate building situated on expansive grounds that also house a zoo, two (because one is for the poor...) botanical gardens, and a maze, among other impressive features.
After our tour there we headed for coffee and desert (Opa would approve) at a Viennese cafe. We continued our discussions on life, my project and the family.
Next we went to an amusement park called Prader, whose main attraction (the one that attracted us) is a large Ferris Wheel that allows a view of the entire city. It is a very old Ferris Wheel and I wonder if Opa ever rode it. I imagine that he must have. From the top I was excited to see the Kahlenburg, a mountain on the edge of Vienna not far from Brigittenau where Opa went to ski and hike.
After this we went to a pizza place off of Mariahilfer Straße for dinner and made our way back to my hostel where we said our goodbyes. I am very glad to have had the opportunity to meet them here: it is a very good feeling, after so long, to see family. I hope they can visit us in the United States soon.
It is hard to believe that tomorrow is already the last full day I have in Vienna. This trip is passing very quickly. I will go to the archive of the Viennese Jewish Community, primarily to discuss general Viennese Jewish history with the staff, but also to look a bit into some names Opa mentioned in his memoir. Two in particular interest me: Josh and Rudy Gruber, boys his age who left Vienna for the United States four months before Opa and his family left Vienna. If I could find them I would be very happy! After the archive I must buy food, attempt to cook for myself, and pack. Busy, busy!
Auf Wiedersehen!
Otherwise, today was fantastic! I arranged with my cousin Andreas, who lives roughly two hours from here by car, to spend the day with him and his wife Manuela in Vienna. I had not seen them since I was young, and it was amazing to catch up.
We fit a great deal into one day. They picked me up at my hostel this morning and we went to a cafe for breakfast and discussed all the happenings in our extended family. Andreas is the son of my Oma's younger sister, but he knew Opa well, and it was great to talk together about our memories of him. I miss Opa more than I can explain... I know that my family understands this feeling, and Andreas too, even if he was not related by blood.
After breakfast we drove to Schloß Schönbrunn, the Summer Palace of the Hapsburg family. It is an incredibly large and ornate building situated on expansive grounds that also house a zoo, two (because one is for the poor...) botanical gardens, and a maze, among other impressive features.
After our tour there we headed for coffee and desert (Opa would approve) at a Viennese cafe. We continued our discussions on life, my project and the family.
Next we went to an amusement park called Prader, whose main attraction (the one that attracted us) is a large Ferris Wheel that allows a view of the entire city. It is a very old Ferris Wheel and I wonder if Opa ever rode it. I imagine that he must have. From the top I was excited to see the Kahlenburg, a mountain on the edge of Vienna not far from Brigittenau where Opa went to ski and hike.
After this we went to a pizza place off of Mariahilfer Straße for dinner and made our way back to my hostel where we said our goodbyes. I am very glad to have had the opportunity to meet them here: it is a very good feeling, after so long, to see family. I hope they can visit us in the United States soon.
It is hard to believe that tomorrow is already the last full day I have in Vienna. This trip is passing very quickly. I will go to the archive of the Viennese Jewish Community, primarily to discuss general Viennese Jewish history with the staff, but also to look a bit into some names Opa mentioned in his memoir. Two in particular interest me: Josh and Rudy Gruber, boys his age who left Vienna for the United States four months before Opa and his family left Vienna. If I could find them I would be very happy! After the archive I must buy food, attempt to cook for myself, and pack. Busy, busy!
Auf Wiedersehen!
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Vienna 11th May 2013
I went to Klosterneuburger Straße No. 49 today. I wasn't sure whether to go today or tomorrow or Monday, but I decided around noon that for some reason I was putting it off and making excuses not to go ("it's raining, I'll go tomorrow sometime..."). This trip has no time and I have no patience for avoidance mechanisms, so I bought a subway ticket and rode the 6th line toward Floridsdorf to Jägerstraße.
From there it was just a short walk to Klosterneuburger Straße.
When I turned south on that street, I realized that, if this story has any true "starting point," I had reached it now. It is difficult to explain how it felt to look down that street.
I walked a few blocks south from the underground station and reached No. 49. It was a yellowed-stucco building, shorter than the buildings around it, with an inset entrance that offered shelter from the rain that had already soaked through my jacket. It was four floors: on the street sat a tanning salon, which struck me as gaudy and sacrilegious, but this place does not have the same meaning for others as it does for me and my family, I reminded myself.
Above there were three residential floors... This made the building one story higher than Opa described in his memoir. But a plaque in German above the door reminded passersby that this building had been damaged in the war years between 1939 and 1945 and had been repaired or rebuilt in the 1950s.
Each floor had seven windows and the house was narrow. Even before renovation it must have offered incredibly little space for each of the three families on each floor as Opa described.
I stood in the rain at Opa's boyhood home for nearly two hours. I am not sure what exactly I was waiting for, I simply was inclined to wait. I spoke to two residents of the current building, a man and then a woman, as they came out onto the street. But neither of them knew anything of the building's history, and neither spoke English well enough for me to feel comfortable asking to go inside. That is how it goes, I suppose. I would have liked to go in, but perhaps Opa and his family are supposed to be the last Najman's to enter Klosterneuburger Straße No. 49...
Afterward I walked a block and a half to Kluckygasse, where the nearest synagogue had been to Opa's house. The street was small: when the synagogue stood, it must have occupied one fifth of the street by itself.
It was destroyed on Reichskristallnacht, 10 November, 1938. I cannot imagine the fear of having a beautiful building symbolizing your faith so near to your home destroyed in malice. They must have realized what its destruction meant... I wonder if Opa went there before the world turned upside down...
I made my way back to the subway, soaking wet and... Different... I think I will start writing soon.
Last night I made friends with 6 Canadians at my hostel. It is exciting to meet people traveling for such different reasons and to such different places (2 are here as part of a four month trip backpacking across Europe, 4 on a weekend vacation from work in Switzerland). We played cards and got late-night ice cream... It is somehow reassuring to know that even here, thousands of miles from home and in a city with such a dark history for my family, that I can meet good people who like me and are interested in Heinz. If any of you reads this, thank you!
Tomorrow morning I have arranged with my cousin Andreas and his wife Manuela to meet in Vienna for breakfast. I am not sure what we will do after. You'll have to hear about it tomorrow!
Until then!
From there it was just a short walk to Klosterneuburger Straße.
When I turned south on that street, I realized that, if this story has any true "starting point," I had reached it now. It is difficult to explain how it felt to look down that street.
I walked a few blocks south from the underground station and reached No. 49. It was a yellowed-stucco building, shorter than the buildings around it, with an inset entrance that offered shelter from the rain that had already soaked through my jacket. It was four floors: on the street sat a tanning salon, which struck me as gaudy and sacrilegious, but this place does not have the same meaning for others as it does for me and my family, I reminded myself.
Above there were three residential floors... This made the building one story higher than Opa described in his memoir. But a plaque in German above the door reminded passersby that this building had been damaged in the war years between 1939 and 1945 and had been repaired or rebuilt in the 1950s.
Each floor had seven windows and the house was narrow. Even before renovation it must have offered incredibly little space for each of the three families on each floor as Opa described.
I stood in the rain at Opa's boyhood home for nearly two hours. I am not sure what exactly I was waiting for, I simply was inclined to wait. I spoke to two residents of the current building, a man and then a woman, as they came out onto the street. But neither of them knew anything of the building's history, and neither spoke English well enough for me to feel comfortable asking to go inside. That is how it goes, I suppose. I would have liked to go in, but perhaps Opa and his family are supposed to be the last Najman's to enter Klosterneuburger Straße No. 49...
Afterward I walked a block and a half to Kluckygasse, where the nearest synagogue had been to Opa's house. The street was small: when the synagogue stood, it must have occupied one fifth of the street by itself.
It was destroyed on Reichskristallnacht, 10 November, 1938. I cannot imagine the fear of having a beautiful building symbolizing your faith so near to your home destroyed in malice. They must have realized what its destruction meant... I wonder if Opa went there before the world turned upside down...
I made my way back to the subway, soaking wet and... Different... I think I will start writing soon.
Last night I made friends with 6 Canadians at my hostel. It is exciting to meet people traveling for such different reasons and to such different places (2 are here as part of a four month trip backpacking across Europe, 4 on a weekend vacation from work in Switzerland). We played cards and got late-night ice cream... It is somehow reassuring to know that even here, thousands of miles from home and in a city with such a dark history for my family, that I can meet good people who like me and are interested in Heinz. If any of you reads this, thank you!
Tomorrow morning I have arranged with my cousin Andreas and his wife Manuela to meet in Vienna for breakfast. I am not sure what we will do after. You'll have to hear about it tomorrow!
Until then!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Vienna 10th May 2013
I started today early with little plan or idea of what to expect. My first stop was the Westbahnhof to make reservations on an ICE (InterCity Express) train for Tuesday to ensure I can get to Brussels in time to check in at my hostel there. My reservation is for a 6:52 AM (!!!) train to Frankfurt where I will change trains again and continue on. I'm going to try to be a bit earlier for this one!
This has definitely been the worst day of allergies for me so far this year, despite the fact that I am taking daily medicine for the past week or so... I spent the first three or four hours of the day sneezing my way across Vienna like an idiot, pausing in bits of shade to hide my squinty and itchy eyes from the sun and to breath... Protip: if you have allergies, never expect to be at your best on any gorgeous day. You'll be disappointed.
But it was gorgeous in Vienna today. Early this morning the sky was clear and the sun was out. This is a fantastic city for the history nerd. Literally around every turn there is a beautiful new Imperial building to explore, at least in the Hofburg, where I spent most of my day.
Opa liked the Habsburgs. It is strange to think that I am in the Imperial City, the home of their Winter Palace, from whence the Austro-Hungarian Empire was ruled... It is even more strange to think that this is the place Opa was born, the place he lived for 10 years, the place the story begins, and the place I might have been born myself, had circumstances been different. Knowing this gives the city a great weight. A great urgency. I have something to learn about Opa here. I have something to learn about myself here.
It was my intention to see the Jewish History Museum, and wandering the Hofburg I found a sign that pointed the way. It is a museum in two parts, and my status as a student got me a discount. The first I visited, on Dorotheergasse, focused on Jewish humor and media and had an interesting archive on its top floor. I ate lunch there.
But the second, on the Judenplatz, was fascinating. In the plaza is the Shoa Mahnmal, a memorial for Austrian victims of the Holocaust. It is a low gray building, simply built and surrounded by the names of places Jews were killed. The effect of the memorial was powerful. I sat there and thought of Opa and his mother for some time... She was murdered at Auschwitz.
The museum itself featured the remains of one of Vienna's largest synagogues destroyed in 1420. Antisemitism is not a new thing.
The second location is also home to the Jewish Welcome Service of Vienna. I spoke to a woman there who helped me locate Klosterneuburgerstrasse, the street where Opa grew up, as well as how to get there, and the site of the nearest synagogue (the former site, more correctly. Only one synagogue of Vienna's previous ninety-four survived the war). I will make my way there someday very soon. I wonder what I will find...
I continued to wander and toured the Austrian parliament and ate Wiener Schnitzel. I considered attending services at the Stadttemple, the synagogue that survived World War Two, but decided against it.
The weather turned darker later in the day and it is supposed to rain tomorrow. In any case, most Jewish sites are closed on Saturday for the Shabbat. I am not certain what I will do yet. Wien is holding an annual festival of art and culture, so I may see what that has to offer.
Until tomorrow, readers!
This has definitely been the worst day of allergies for me so far this year, despite the fact that I am taking daily medicine for the past week or so... I spent the first three or four hours of the day sneezing my way across Vienna like an idiot, pausing in bits of shade to hide my squinty and itchy eyes from the sun and to breath... Protip: if you have allergies, never expect to be at your best on any gorgeous day. You'll be disappointed.
But it was gorgeous in Vienna today. Early this morning the sky was clear and the sun was out. This is a fantastic city for the history nerd. Literally around every turn there is a beautiful new Imperial building to explore, at least in the Hofburg, where I spent most of my day.
Opa liked the Habsburgs. It is strange to think that I am in the Imperial City, the home of their Winter Palace, from whence the Austro-Hungarian Empire was ruled... It is even more strange to think that this is the place Opa was born, the place he lived for 10 years, the place the story begins, and the place I might have been born myself, had circumstances been different. Knowing this gives the city a great weight. A great urgency. I have something to learn about Opa here. I have something to learn about myself here.
It was my intention to see the Jewish History Museum, and wandering the Hofburg I found a sign that pointed the way. It is a museum in two parts, and my status as a student got me a discount. The first I visited, on Dorotheergasse, focused on Jewish humor and media and had an interesting archive on its top floor. I ate lunch there.
But the second, on the Judenplatz, was fascinating. In the plaza is the Shoa Mahnmal, a memorial for Austrian victims of the Holocaust. It is a low gray building, simply built and surrounded by the names of places Jews were killed. The effect of the memorial was powerful. I sat there and thought of Opa and his mother for some time... She was murdered at Auschwitz.
The museum itself featured the remains of one of Vienna's largest synagogues destroyed in 1420. Antisemitism is not a new thing.
The second location is also home to the Jewish Welcome Service of Vienna. I spoke to a woman there who helped me locate Klosterneuburgerstrasse, the street where Opa grew up, as well as how to get there, and the site of the nearest synagogue (the former site, more correctly. Only one synagogue of Vienna's previous ninety-four survived the war). I will make my way there someday very soon. I wonder what I will find...
I continued to wander and toured the Austrian parliament and ate Wiener Schnitzel. I considered attending services at the Stadttemple, the synagogue that survived World War Two, but decided against it.
The weather turned darker later in the day and it is supposed to rain tomorrow. In any case, most Jewish sites are closed on Saturday for the Shabbat. I am not certain what I will do yet. Wien is holding an annual festival of art and culture, so I may see what that has to offer.
Until tomorrow, readers!
Monday, December 3, 2012
The Beginning
Today I bought a plane ticket that will take me farther from home than I've ever been. It was an exciting moment. I have bought many plane tickets before, and I have traveled extensively in the United States, but this trip will be one unlike any that I have embarked upon before.
The process has been long; it started in April and only really took its current shape within the past few months. Determining details and securing funding - and all the paperwork that these entailed - took a great amount of effort and dedication. At some points, I was frustrated. But I owe my first thanks of what I am sure will be many to Dr. Erin Fouberg, who encouraged me to keep trying for what I wanted despite numerous obstacles. The trip, as it stands now, is not what I had first imagined. But thanks to Dr. Fouberg's advice, it is exactly what I need it to be. I could not be more excited.
I am often asked what my trip is "for." I suppose this first post is as good as any to clear up the mystery.
From early May to early June of the coming year, I will be traveling to various cities across Europe. I am researching the life of my paternal grandfather, who I called "Opa," born Heinz Najman in Vienna, Austria in 1929. His family, originally from Poland, was Jewish. In the late 1930s, when Nazi sympathizers took power in Austria, my ten year old Opa's life was utterly changed. Over the next several years, Opa's life was spent on the run. This adolescent boy traveled throughout five countries, often illegally; learned four languages; put his life in the hands of complete strangers and lost some of the most important people in his life.
His story is one of loss and hope, hate and love, desperation and determination. I could not be more proud to call Heinz Najman my Opa, and I will write his story. I will travel to Vienna, Brussels, Paris, Pau, Toulouse, and Lyon, cities in which he fought for his life. I will learn what I can of his life and of life in these places for Jews during the Holocaust.
I owe a great debt to my undergraduate university, Northern State University in Aberdeen, South Dakota, which has made undergraduate research like mine a priority and is funding a large percentage of my journey. I owe a great deal as well to Dr. Fouberg and the Honors Program at Northern State University for encouraging and refining my dream.
I am excited to begin this project, and I hope that you will bear with me as the day of my departure draws nearer.
The process has been long; it started in April and only really took its current shape within the past few months. Determining details and securing funding - and all the paperwork that these entailed - took a great amount of effort and dedication. At some points, I was frustrated. But I owe my first thanks of what I am sure will be many to Dr. Erin Fouberg, who encouraged me to keep trying for what I wanted despite numerous obstacles. The trip, as it stands now, is not what I had first imagined. But thanks to Dr. Fouberg's advice, it is exactly what I need it to be. I could not be more excited.
I am often asked what my trip is "for." I suppose this first post is as good as any to clear up the mystery.
From early May to early June of the coming year, I will be traveling to various cities across Europe. I am researching the life of my paternal grandfather, who I called "Opa," born Heinz Najman in Vienna, Austria in 1929. His family, originally from Poland, was Jewish. In the late 1930s, when Nazi sympathizers took power in Austria, my ten year old Opa's life was utterly changed. Over the next several years, Opa's life was spent on the run. This adolescent boy traveled throughout five countries, often illegally; learned four languages; put his life in the hands of complete strangers and lost some of the most important people in his life.
His story is one of loss and hope, hate and love, desperation and determination. I could not be more proud to call Heinz Najman my Opa, and I will write his story. I will travel to Vienna, Brussels, Paris, Pau, Toulouse, and Lyon, cities in which he fought for his life. I will learn what I can of his life and of life in these places for Jews during the Holocaust.
I owe a great debt to my undergraduate university, Northern State University in Aberdeen, South Dakota, which has made undergraduate research like mine a priority and is funding a large percentage of my journey. I owe a great deal as well to Dr. Fouberg and the Honors Program at Northern State University for encouraging and refining my dream.
I am excited to begin this project, and I hope that you will bear with me as the day of my departure draws nearer.
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