This is going to be a tough blog to write.

I woke up this morning around 6 in order to have time for a run, shower, and breakfast before we departed for the town of Oświęcim and Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Don't worry—I had learned from my mistake running without a map in Jena, and brought a map with me this morning. The map actually turned out to be a really great idea because the route I had kind of planned out in my head didn't really work out the way I had thought it would and I was standing at an intersection totally confused for a good 4 minutes. But don't worry—I found my hotel =]

After quickly showering and packing, I hurried downstairs to grab breakfast, which was absolutely delicious. The pastries and breads were still warm and they had fresh fruit and eggs and meat as well. I declined the eggs and meat, but loaded up on the fruit. After breakfast we boarded the shuttle vans that would take us to Oświęcim. Oświęcim is the Polish name of Auschwitz. When the Germans invaded Poland, they changed the town's name to Auschwitz. After the war, the name of the town was restored, but the name of the Concentration Camp remains German.

It was difficult to imagine how anyone could live so close to the site of the largest death factory in the Nazi regime, yet the city center of Oświęcim is only a couple kilometers away from Auschwitz I. Moreover, a Polish family now lives in the previous home of the Camp Commandant Rudolf Höss and there are houses literally a block away from the gate to Auschwitz II-Birkenau, the camp most people think of when they think of Auschwtiz. I am fairly certain I would not be able to handle living in that town, regardless of the fact that it was quite charming.

Before going to Auschwitz, we went to the Auschwitz Jewish Center where Maciek works. Maciek gave us a tour of the center and we watched a film that the center had produced. It was a documentary of Holocaust survivors from the town of Oświęcim, and the interviewer asked each of the survivors three questions: "What does Oświęcim mean to you?", "What does Poland mean to you?" and "What does Israel mean to you?" I was really shocked by a majority of their answers. Of course, all of them were very proud to call Israel their homeland, but I was surprised to hear what Oświęcim means for them. Even though Auschwitz is a few kilometers away from the city center, all but one of the prisoners interviewed made a clear distinction between the Polish town and the Nazi camp, and remarked numerous times the fond memories they have of Oświęcim.

After the tour of the center, we went back to the monastery for lunch and then boarded the vans again for Auschwitz I. Auschwitz I was built before Auschwitz II-Birkenau, and was originally designed as a concentration camp for Soviet POWs. I had expected to become overwhelmed by the significance of the space as soon as I walked underneath the infamous "Arbeit Macht Frei" sign, but it took awhile for the reality of my location to sink in. It was a beautiful sunny day, the grass was green, and there were even trees and flowers, so although I know the numbers and have read the testimonies, it was still almost impossible to believe what happened in this very place less than seventy years ago. It wasn't until we reached the room with hair from prisoners who had been gassed that it finally hit me, and I went numb after that. The hair is housed in a former block and the display stretches across the entire room. Tangible... Real... Dense... Human. My stomach dropped and I forgot to breath for a moment. The number of people such a collection of hair would require was simply unfathomable.

Moving through the block, we saw similar massive displays of collections of glasses, suitcases, and shoes. The other displays were extremely powerful, especially the luggage, shoes, and dolls from children prisoners, but nothing made me so sick to my stomach quite like the mass of hair did. We also toured the former torture/jail block. As if the camp itself wasn't enough, the Nazis had devised other means to torment the prisoners. One of the cells, for instance, was so small so that when they put prisoners into the cell they would have to stand for lack of any space. Offenses such as losing a button from one's uniform could land one in this cell for three nights. In addition the basement of the prison was tested as a gas chamber, using Soviet POWs as its trial test. The Nazis decided that it took too long to ventilate the gas out of the basement, and began construction on a different gas chamber. Situated in between the prison block and a block used for medical experiments is a courtyard that was used for executions.

Gas chamber 1 located at Auschwitz I is the camp's only gas chamber that is still in tact. Our tour headed here after viewing the Appell Platz (roll call place). I can't even begin to describe how I felt when the structure came into view. After an introduction to the history of this particular gas chamber, we entered the gas chamber independently. I immediately gave up any notions of understanding. How could I possibly understand what a prisoner must have been feeling when I was free to leave the chamber whenever I pleased? The door didn't close and lock behind me like it did for them. How could I even begin to comprehend how someone could herd men, women, and children to their death like it was nothing? How could God let it happen?

I was one of the last ones to leave the chamber and crematorium and rejoin the group. It was such a strange feeling, leaving the gas chamber. It almost didn't seem fair that I was able to walk back out through the door as if it were any other building. I was so confused and hurt by what I had seen, what humanity could do. Our guide had started talking again, but I was still trying to process what I had just walked through when I felt my phone go off in my camera bag. Not an email, but a phone call. I've received phone calls on my American Handy before, namely from the credit card company checking up on a purchase abroad, so in retrospect I don't know why I felt a need to check and see who the missed call was from a couple meters away from the gas chamber's door, but I did. And I thought my stomach dropped when I saw the room with my hair... the phone call was from my Dad, and what was worse was the email accompanied by it: "Call mom dad and clover asap." Any sort of hope that my Dad had just accidently butt-dialed me went flying out the window. My parents knew where I was and what I was seeing, and I knew they would never send me such an email unless it was an absolute emergency.

Even though we were still on the campgrounds, I couldn't possibly wait until we got back to the hotel to call my parents. I excused myself quietly from the group and went to call my Dad. It's possible that I didn't have the best cell reception, but my first two attempts to phone my Dad failed. My heart started to race as the various scenarios went through my head and my panic level rose as call after call failed to go through. From the email I knew that my parents and Clover were okay, or at least it seemed to appear that way, which was honestly probably the only information separating me from panic to hyperventilation. My hometown has had to deal with a lot of tragedy in the last five or six years. I've been quite fortunate that I haven't lost best friends like some of the people I know have. But the fear of that phone call is always in the back of my head...

I know that I said I was fairly certain that my parents were okay, but it was still a huge relief when I got through and heard both of my parents' voices on the other line. Something was clearly wrong, though, and it seemed like another eternity before my Mom was able to tell me that my Grandma Perry had passed away in her sleep. I haven't been homesick yet this entire trip, but I would have given a whole lot to be able to apparate home then. I wanted to give my Dad a hug more than anything, but without internet at the monastery we couldn't even Skype.

My parents both emphasized over and over again how much happier Grandma was now that she could be with Grandpa again and that she passed away peacefully in her sleep, but I was still having trouble believing what they were telling me. My parents were thousands of miles away, all of my friends were back in Germany, and I was standing a few meters away from the door to the gas chamber at Auschwitz. It didn't make any sense that I should be getting news like this in what is probably already the most depressing place on the entire European continent...

It was about this time that my Mom said "It's kind of ironic where you are right now..." I was so close to saying "As if I needed the reminder..." when she continued, and reminded me how close I was to the town Grandma's family is from in Ukraine. I haven't the faintest clue why, but the knowledge of my proximity to my Grandma's side of the family's roots in Eastern Europe was somewhat comforting. My Dad promised me he was okay, and that was really good to hear, too. At this point I realized my group had started heading back to the visitors' center, unaware of the news I had just gotten, so I had to finish my conversation with my parents to make sure that I wouldn't get left behind.

It was quite obvious that I was upset, but seeing as how we had just spent 3-4 hours in Auschwitz, no one guessed that it was anything other than me dealing with the concentration camp, and therefore no one asked any questions. I was really grateful for that; I didn't feel like trying to explain to fifteen people that I had met the day before what had happened. I was really thankful that I had met Ashley on Thursday... I think she sensed something else was wrong because she asked me if I was okay when we got back to the vans and told me that if I needed anything to let her know. It was very sweet of her, but more than anything at that point I just wanted to be alone.