Lublin is a large historic city. It sits on the Royal Route from the ancient capital of Poland in Krakow to Vilnius the capital of a now independent Lithuania, but between 1569 and 1793 the joint capitals of union between the two nations.
Today it’s the ninth largest city in Poland and second only to Krakow in size in the southern part of the country.
I say this because it should be a more well-known city than it is, but also because despite it’s size located in its south western suburbs is a truly disturbing location – a key part of the Nazi Holocaust machinery – a designated extermination camp, that saw the deaths of at least 80,000 people (nearly 60,000 of them Jewish).
Whilst this isn’t on the almost incomprehensible scale of Auschwitz it is notable for it happening so close to a major city.
Auschwitz is located more than 60Km from Krakow, Majdanek is just 4Km from the centre of Lublin.
Until I was planning on what to do on my trip to Lublin I’d never even heard of Majdanek. When it came up on the Lublin tourism website as a place that visitors should go to I assumed that it would be a long way out of town, possibly only accessible on a guided tour. I was very surprised to see that it was accessible by over half a dozen bus routes on the main road out of the city to the southern suburbs.
The site makes it very clear that a visit should be respectful, but that also people should be aware of the nature of the site – strongly warning against anyone under the age of 14 visiting.
When I visited Auschwitz, I was struck – as many people comment – by a sense of unease, partly the lack of any birdsong, or anything else living nearby, but also the knowledge that so much horror happened there.
The same wasn’t the case for Majdanek to begin with, despite one of the first things you are greeted with on entering the main part of the camp is the combined shower block and gas chamber – empty canisters of Zyklon B on display behind glass screens.
Because of it’s location there is a fair amount of wildlife on the site, and as the city has expanded the site is now overlooked by homes and a part of the university.
Where the true horror of the site really strikes is towards the end of the visit at the Mausoleum. Here under a giant dome sits a large mound, made almost entirely of the cremated remains of the Nazi’s victims found on the site at its liberation in 1944. The fact that this is only likely to be a small number of the total victims of the site is all the more harrowing.
Along the frieze of the dome runs the text “Our fate is a warning to you”.
It isn’t a pleasant place to be, and it’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be a reminder of the horrors that humans can inflict on each other when they think they can get away with it, and in the case of Majdanek, unlike many of the other extermination camps in the various Nazi occupied territories, within sight of a major city.
Footnote
When I visited Auschwitz, it was a damp overcast day. Whilst this made the sites appear even greyer and devoid of colour, it did make looking round the sites an easy task.
I visited Majdanek on a hot sunny day, with temperatures nudging 30C. I had bottles of cold water, I was covered in sun block, had comfy shoes on and was only leisurely walking around the site, and yet I found that quite unpleasant. It brings home even more the horrific conditions that people were held in (and I can only assume the winter months would have been even worse).
It was difficult to visit many of the exhibits in the former barrack blocks as the temperatures and humidity inside were stiffing and yet there were just a handful of people in each block at any time – trying to imagine being in there with hundreds, possibly up to 1,000 other people is almost impossible.
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Friday, 27 July 2018
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
That’s the sound of A. J. P. Taylor spinning in his grave
OK, I’ll admit that I’m being a bit of a history snob about this. I’ll admit that there are a lot of complexities to the nationhood and status of the various islands and bits of islands that make up the British Isles. I’ll accept that the various royal families of England and Scotland can get a bit confusing.
However, it still doesn’t stop me grimacing when I hear other people making some quite interesting “factual” statements about, what we’ll generalise as, “British History”
The tour guide round the castle today was talking about the Elizabeth gate, erected overnight by the Prince Elector to impress his 19 year old bride Elizabeth Stuart. She was the Granddaughter of Mary Stuart (Mary, Queen of Scots).
The tour guide then went on about the part of the palace where Elizabeth lived and described it as “fitting her as it was in the English style”. And I know with that statement a small part of Alec Salmond dies. Technically it’s true, it is in what is called the English style, and with her Dad having been King of England as well as Scotland, she may well have felt more English than Scottish, it’s just deep down, this bit of the castle looks more like Linlithgow palace near Falkirk than anything I’ve seen in England, so I’d say it’s more in the Scottish style, fitting her ancestral roots (though trying to explain the difference between England, Scotland, Britain, the UK etc. would take several blog postings, so instead you could watch this short video)
The comment by another tourist that Mary Stuart (Queen of Scots) was married to Henry VIII had me wanting to hit my head against a brick wall. Not because it was wrong (which it is), but because it was backed up with the authority of – it was in a mini-series I watched last year. This same tourist then wondered how it was Henry kept managing to attract all the ladies given how fat an ugly he was.
Yes, I’m happy to take it as read that by the time he died Henry was a particularly unpleasant human specimen (look up Wikipedia for the full gory details), bloated, gouty and partly responsible for sowing the seeds of sectarianism in the UK. However, prior to the over indulgence he was, by most historical accounts one of the most eligible and handsome royal bachelors in all Europe. But again, because the mini-series had only portrayed him as this overweight tyrant (obviously married to Mary Queen of Scots at the time), this tourist felt it was perfectly acceptable to try and correct her friend when she queried it because – it was in a factual mini-series I watched last year, so it must be true.
If the walls of the castle at that point hadn’t been 21 feet thick and likely to cause lasting injury, I would have been tempted to bang my head against them until something broke.
However, it still doesn’t stop me grimacing when I hear other people making some quite interesting “factual” statements about, what we’ll generalise as, “British History”
The tour guide round the castle today was talking about the Elizabeth gate, erected overnight by the Prince Elector to impress his 19 year old bride Elizabeth Stuart. She was the Granddaughter of Mary Stuart (Mary, Queen of Scots).
The tour guide then went on about the part of the palace where Elizabeth lived and described it as “fitting her as it was in the English style”. And I know with that statement a small part of Alec Salmond dies. Technically it’s true, it is in what is called the English style, and with her Dad having been King of England as well as Scotland, she may well have felt more English than Scottish, it’s just deep down, this bit of the castle looks more like Linlithgow palace near Falkirk than anything I’ve seen in England, so I’d say it’s more in the Scottish style, fitting her ancestral roots (though trying to explain the difference between England, Scotland, Britain, the UK etc. would take several blog postings, so instead you could watch this short video)
The comment by another tourist that Mary Stuart (Queen of Scots) was married to Henry VIII had me wanting to hit my head against a brick wall. Not because it was wrong (which it is), but because it was backed up with the authority of – it was in a mini-series I watched last year. This same tourist then wondered how it was Henry kept managing to attract all the ladies given how fat an ugly he was.
Yes, I’m happy to take it as read that by the time he died Henry was a particularly unpleasant human specimen (look up Wikipedia for the full gory details), bloated, gouty and partly responsible for sowing the seeds of sectarianism in the UK. However, prior to the over indulgence he was, by most historical accounts one of the most eligible and handsome royal bachelors in all Europe. But again, because the mini-series had only portrayed him as this overweight tyrant (obviously married to Mary Queen of Scots at the time), this tourist felt it was perfectly acceptable to try and correct her friend when she queried it because – it was in a factual mini-series I watched last year, so it must be true.
If the walls of the castle at that point hadn’t been 21 feet thick and likely to cause lasting injury, I would have been tempted to bang my head against them until something broke.
Monday, 25 October 2010
Bleed it dry
With all the hype, with all the mentions, with all the themed shops, restaurants and museums you would have thought that Bram Stoker had set the whole of Dracula in Whitby.
Instead it’s just three chapters, three important chapters, but still just three chapters.
I dread to thin what the hype would be like if the whole book had been set here.
And yet, there’s no need for the hype (down to only offering “blood” rather than strawberry sauce as an ice-cream topping – it should be noted that “blood” is in fact strawberry sauce!)
The town has more history and fame oozing from its little lanes than many places several times its size.
Ignoring the whole “StokerWorld “theme, it’s home to a stunning set of ruins in the Abbey, an Abbey which, when it was in full working order before Henry VIII had his little falling out with the pope, boasted nine saints from it’s ranks.
Its literary links go beyond Vampires to Walruses and Carpenters, it was in Whitby that it is believed Lewis Carol wrote one of the most famous poems for “Through the Looking-Glass”
But perhaps more importantly, it’s from this small Yorkshire port that a ship called the Earl of Pembroke was launched in 1764. In 1768 it was renamed the Endeavour. Its captain had done most of his training from the same port and so the Endeavour and Captain James Cook helped to create the map of the world as we know it.
Yet there is only one small museum to the Captain, and no real monument to one of the most important ships in history.
Vampires on the other hand, you can have dozens.
Instead it’s just three chapters, three important chapters, but still just three chapters.
I dread to thin what the hype would be like if the whole book had been set here.
And yet, there’s no need for the hype (down to only offering “blood” rather than strawberry sauce as an ice-cream topping – it should be noted that “blood” is in fact strawberry sauce!)
The town has more history and fame oozing from its little lanes than many places several times its size.
Ignoring the whole “StokerWorld “theme, it’s home to a stunning set of ruins in the Abbey, an Abbey which, when it was in full working order before Henry VIII had his little falling out with the pope, boasted nine saints from it’s ranks.
Its literary links go beyond Vampires to Walruses and Carpenters, it was in Whitby that it is believed Lewis Carol wrote one of the most famous poems for “Through the Looking-Glass”
But perhaps more importantly, it’s from this small Yorkshire port that a ship called the Earl of Pembroke was launched in 1764. In 1768 it was renamed the Endeavour. Its captain had done most of his training from the same port and so the Endeavour and Captain James Cook helped to create the map of the world as we know it.
Yet there is only one small museum to the Captain, and no real monument to one of the most important ships in history.
Vampires on the other hand, you can have dozens.
Monday, 2 August 2010
Out of the Darkness, Light
Denmark suffered, for five years (the Dark Years as I have heard them described on a number of occasions) the land was under the control of Nazi Germany.
As with other places they invaded the Nazi’s wanted to protect their gains, and where there were coasts involved keep them secure.
And nowhere needed to be kept more secure than Grenen at the top of the country.
At Grenen the Skagerrak and the Kattegat meet. These are the entries (or exits) from the North and Baltic sea respectively and so a vital area to control.
With carefully built fortifications and big enough guns you can stop anything you don’t want entering the Baltic Sea entering.
Move forward over 60 years and the sand dunes on this part of the coast have helped Mother Nature reclaim most of the area, with many of the fortifications long since buried and slowly being crushed by the dunes.
But a couple of the bunkers have survived and today they are still serving their original duty of providing excellent views over the peninsular, only today rather than Guns it’s camera’s firing off regularly as holiday makers clamber over the ruins to reach their roofs for the views.
As with other places they invaded the Nazi’s wanted to protect their gains, and where there were coasts involved keep them secure.
And nowhere needed to be kept more secure than Grenen at the top of the country.
At Grenen the Skagerrak and the Kattegat meet. These are the entries (or exits) from the North and Baltic sea respectively and so a vital area to control.
With carefully built fortifications and big enough guns you can stop anything you don’t want entering the Baltic Sea entering.
Move forward over 60 years and the sand dunes on this part of the coast have helped Mother Nature reclaim most of the area, with many of the fortifications long since buried and slowly being crushed by the dunes.
But a couple of the bunkers have survived and today they are still serving their original duty of providing excellent views over the peninsular, only today rather than Guns it’s camera’s firing off regularly as holiday makers clamber over the ruins to reach their roofs for the views.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
What do you call it?
Even in posing the question there are egg shells to be walked on so I’ll offer the same question in two versions, bearing in mind that with each question it gives its own, different answer.
What do you call the second city of Northern Ireland?
Or
What do you call the fourth largest city in Ireland?
In the first instance the likely response would be Londonderry, in the second Derry, but again it would depend on who you spoke to (though I wouldn’t suggest posing the second question in areas where there are a propensity for union flags and red, white and blue lamp posts and kerb stones).
Doire was the original name of the town, which over time was anglicised into Derry. It was only with the creation of a new city on the opposite bank of the Foyle to Doire in the early 1600’s that the name issue was created.
The city was built to be filled by "British tenants" from England and Scotland, planted in the country to try and prevent further uprisings from the native Irish against British rule (leap forward 400 years and have we really progressed that much further!)
As the building of the city was funded by the livery companies of London they wanted to put their mark on it, so they bolted their city name onto the front end of the anglicised version to create Londonderry.
Today there are a variety of options that you can choose from for the name.
There is of course the one that the Loyalist community, and the UK government, would like you to use – Londonderry.
Then there is the version that the nationalist community and, to be honest, most people outside of the British Isles would use – Derry
You could cheat, like the railway company does on some of its literature and call it L’Derry (making it sound like a French town, I think possibly a seaside resort)
Or there is the “Politically Correct” Derry/Londonderry, and the alternative it’s spawned of “Stroke City” avoiding the whole need to mention either of the words but focus on the punctuation.
However, as I queued up for my ticket this morning I was feeling lazy so I couldn’t be bothered with the extra two syllables and just asked for a single to Derry.
When I got here it looked like I chose correctly. The local authority is “City of Derry”, all the bins, bus stops and town signs say Derry and none of the tours on offer call it anything other than that.
So the question perhaps is not what should you call it, but what to the locals call it and call it that.
Though you then have to consider the make up of the city...
What do you call the second city of Northern Ireland?
Or
What do you call the fourth largest city in Ireland?
In the first instance the likely response would be Londonderry, in the second Derry, but again it would depend on who you spoke to (though I wouldn’t suggest posing the second question in areas where there are a propensity for union flags and red, white and blue lamp posts and kerb stones).
Doire was the original name of the town, which over time was anglicised into Derry. It was only with the creation of a new city on the opposite bank of the Foyle to Doire in the early 1600’s that the name issue was created.
The city was built to be filled by "British tenants" from England and Scotland, planted in the country to try and prevent further uprisings from the native Irish against British rule (leap forward 400 years and have we really progressed that much further!)
As the building of the city was funded by the livery companies of London they wanted to put their mark on it, so they bolted their city name onto the front end of the anglicised version to create Londonderry.
Today there are a variety of options that you can choose from for the name.
There is of course the one that the Loyalist community, and the UK government, would like you to use – Londonderry.
Then there is the version that the nationalist community and, to be honest, most people outside of the British Isles would use – Derry
You could cheat, like the railway company does on some of its literature and call it L’Derry (making it sound like a French town, I think possibly a seaside resort)
Or there is the “Politically Correct” Derry/Londonderry, and the alternative it’s spawned of “Stroke City” avoiding the whole need to mention either of the words but focus on the punctuation.
However, as I queued up for my ticket this morning I was feeling lazy so I couldn’t be bothered with the extra two syllables and just asked for a single to Derry.
When I got here it looked like I chose correctly. The local authority is “City of Derry”, all the bins, bus stops and town signs say Derry and none of the tours on offer call it anything other than that.
So the question perhaps is not what should you call it, but what to the locals call it and call it that.
Though you then have to consider the make up of the city...
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Tasting the Aspic
I came to Bruges on a day trip from Brussels in the early summer of 2004.
The whole selling point of Bruges is that it is a perfectly preserved medieval city, and that’s what draws the tourists.
I know on this basis I shouldn’t be surprised that nothing has changed since 2004, but I am pretty certain that absolutely nothing has changed. The temporary roadwork’s look as though they are in the same place as they were four and a half years ago.
Walking around the city centre it is amazing how, with the exception of the Christmas decorations; nothing has changed in the slightest in the time. Anywhere else some things would have changed (some of the roadwork’s might even have finished), but here everything has remained the same.
Quite frankly it’s a little concerning, like being trapped in a time-warp from which you can never escape. Just have to hope that I can leave on Monday and that I too don’t end up being dispatched to the aspic factory for preservation.
The whole selling point of Bruges is that it is a perfectly preserved medieval city, and that’s what draws the tourists.
I know on this basis I shouldn’t be surprised that nothing has changed since 2004, but I am pretty certain that absolutely nothing has changed. The temporary roadwork’s look as though they are in the same place as they were four and a half years ago.
Walking around the city centre it is amazing how, with the exception of the Christmas decorations; nothing has changed in the slightest in the time. Anywhere else some things would have changed (some of the roadwork’s might even have finished), but here everything has remained the same.
Quite frankly it’s a little concerning, like being trapped in a time-warp from which you can never escape. Just have to hope that I can leave on Monday and that I too don’t end up being dispatched to the aspic factory for preservation.
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