>One of the stops on Emily's wind down tour of Europe will be two days in Krakau, with the express purpose of visiting Auschwitz. Maybe one of her traveling companions is Jewish, I don't know. Or maybe she just considers it a historic site. I am betting her comments will be worth reading. She inherited everything I had to offer, none of my vices, and then a whole lot more.
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>http://emilylilliebeane.tumblr.com/

Visiting Auschwitz (as part of a synagogue group tour of East Europe) was a truly memorable experience for me. Here's what I wrote at the time (and then presented orally in synagogue):

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I never planned to visit Auschwitz, but when I saw it on the trip itinerary, I decided to open myself to the experience. The following was originally written to send to my cousins; we are the descendants of victims of Auschwitz.

It was gray and drippy as we boarded the bus in Krakow that morning, which seemed appropriate, but by the time we approached Auschwitz a little more than an hour later, the sky had cleared.

Auschwitz is now a free museum run by the Polish government. Tour groups are required to have a guide provided by the museum, presumably to avoid propaganda. Although it looks (and smells) too clean and well-kept, the museum has done a remarkable job of maintaining the place and providing appropriate displays. Our guide was well-informed and respectful.

As we walked under the “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign to enter the original camp, I found myself walking in my grandmother's shoes. By the time she entered, she’d given up her children and her home, yet worse was to come. The tears started flowing, and continued intermittently throughout the entire visit.

We learned about the history of the camp, originally a Polish army camp. Initially, the Nazis used it to house political prisoners, but others were soon added. The barracks, both those that were part of the Polish camp and those that were built by the Nazis, were lined up in neat rows. There were trees lining the edges of the walkways between them; the guide said they had been planted by the Nazis. We heard the incongruous sound of birdsong.

Inside a number of the barracks were exhibits. The most difficult exhibit for me was a building showing things the Nazis “recovered” from those they killed and then, for the most part, shipped back to Germany for use there. As the war was ending, they tried to burn the remaining items, but failed to complete the task. The displays included two tons of human hair, 40,000 pairs of shoes, clothing, hairbrushes, toothbrushes and luggage. As I entered a room with a display of prostheses and crutches, I remembered my grandfather, who’d lost a leg in World War I, and found myself sobbing.

We visited the prison building where they first tested Zyklon B to figure out how much they needed to use for the gas chambers. There were torture chambers, including one space of one square meter where four people got to stand all night, then join the work groups.

Finally, we entered a room set aside as a memorial. The Hazzan recited El Moleh Rahamim and we said Kaddish. Although I’ve been attending Yizkor on Yom Kippur for several years now, and always think of my grandparents during the appropriate portion of the service, it felt like the first time I’d ever said Kaddish for them.