Auschwitz

Writing a blog post about a visit to Auschwitz is a very difficult thing. I don’t feel like I’m qualified or equipped to write anything about what happened there or what it means to people in general. Visiting the two main camps that made up the Auschwitz concentration camp site was a very emotional experience for me, and I don’t really feel like I can relate that to you by writing it down.

I’m writing this from our van, less than three kilometres from the camps, and at the moment the experience is still so raw for me that I don’t know that I could write about it even if I tried.

I will, however, say that until I visited the concentration camp today, the concept of the holocaust was just a figurative one to me. Visiting the camp brought home a fragment of the horrific reality that happened here. I can’t describe how it felt apart from to say that in the past I have laughed along with many others at comedy that pokes fun at Nazi Germany - for instance The Producers, but today those jokes just don’t seem funny anymore.

I’m sure that as the tiny reality that I came across today fades into my memory, I might find The Producers funny once again, but for now, in this place, I don't.

All I feel like I can do here is give you a literal description of what I saw today, but first, a very little history.

Auschwitz is the German name for the Polish village of Oświęcim. During World War II the Nazis occupied the village, drove out the citizens and turned the old Polish Army barracks into a concentration camp, initially for Polish political prisoners, operated by the SS. This camp is now known at KL Auschwitz I. Later, another much larger camp was constructed a little way down the road. This camp is now known as KL Auschwitz II - Birkenau. As the war progressed, more camps were built in the area, but all were known under the umbrella name: Auschwitz.

During the war at least 1,100,000 human beings were murdered there, primarily at Auschwitz II - Birkenau.

Today, we walked from our camping spot to the first camp, which is built on the southern edge of Oświęcim. Today the area is an industrial estate, surrounded by warehouses.

The reception building is filled with signs in many languages providing seemingly conflicting information about the cost of entry and whether or not you need to be part of a tour group to get in. It turns out that it’s free and you don’t need a guide, or at least that’s the case at this time of year.

After leaving the reception building you enter a large courtyard, in the corner of which is a metal gate which has written across the top “ARBEIT MACHT FREI” (Work is liberating). On both sides of this gate are barbed wire fences held up by identical, equidistant concrete pillars which curve towards the inside of the camp. There are two fences about three metres apart all the way around the camp and they were electrified. About three metres on inside of the fences is a wire running along small posts at knee height and scattered along this wire at regular intervals are wooden signs with a skull and crossbones and the words “Halt - Stoj” written on them. This wire virtually made the two high fences unnecessary as any prisoners seen crossing it would immediately be shot from the guard towers.

Inside the fence there are around 30 identical three story brick buildings, which are all still intact. They are rectangular in shape, a little narrower than a basketball court and about twice as long. They’re set in three rows of ten.

The entire complex is about the size of a high school. In between the buildings are roads that were probably originally paved with brick, but are now uneven and mostly made up of dirt and gravel.

On the Eastern side of the camp there is a building built into a small hill. It has a chimney, and inside there are four cremation ovens and an empty concrete-lined windowless room with small holes in the ceiling.

Inside most of the thirty buildings there are now museum exhibits, dedicated to the various facets of the camps, from living conditions in one building, to extermination in another. There are photos and artefacts from the camps, and large text boards in Polish, English and Hebrew. On the second floor of the extermination exhibit there is a glass case filled with two tonnes of human hair.

We spent around an hour and a half inside the camp before leaving to get the free shuttle bus to the second camp.

Auschwitz II - Birkenau is three kilometres from Auschwitz I. It is close to the size of the town of Oświęcim itself. If Auschiwitz I is the size of a high school then Birkenau is the size of two universities.

The bus drops you off at a large gatehouse a little way away from the nearest houses or businesses. The brick gatehouse looks a little like the 30 buildings in Auschwitz I, though it’s only one story. Through the large gate in the centre of the building runs a railway track. On each side of the gatehouse runs a fence identical to the one in Auschwitz I, with guard towers every couple of hundred metres.

Once you walk through the gatehouse (no reception building here) you enter an enormous field. There are almost no buildings here, just fences and chimneys. During the war, the sheds were made of wood, which have since disappeared, leaving only the chimneys at either end.

The railway line splits into three just inside the gatehouse and the three tracks run off into the distance. There is roads in between each of the tracks.

On each side of the tracks there is another fence, and on the other side of the fence there is chimneys as far as the eye can see. A few of the wooden sheds near the gatehouse have been rebuilt by the museum. Nearly a kilometre away from the gatehouse the tracks rejoin into one and comes to an end. Here there is an enormous memorial to the dead of Auschwitz.

On either side of the memorial there are the remnants of two ruined brick buildings. Another kilometre further along to the right there are two more of these brick ruins. Inside these buildings during the war were gas chambers, made up to look like shower blocks, and crematoriums. In 1944 a prisoner revolt burned down one of the buildings, and the other three were detonated by the SS as the war was coming to an end.

We walked constantly for an hour and a half and still didn’t see even half of the camp. At the end of the war, another section of it was under construction. Had the war gone on longer, it may have grown even more.

If you are confused by anything I’ve described here, I encourage you to find out more about it. The only thought worse than knowing what happened here is the thought that anyone doesn’t know what happened here.

On the memorial at the end of the tracks is written in many languages:

FOR EVER LET THIS PLACE BE

A CRY OF DESPAIR

AND A WARNING TO HUMANITY

WHERE THE NAZIS MURDERED

ABOUT ONE AND A HALF MILLION

MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN

MAINLY JEWS

FROM VARIOUS COUNTRIES

OF EUROPE.

AUSCHWITZ - BIRKENAU

1940 - 1945

Omaha Beach and September 11

Yesterday I visited Omaha Beach, Normandy. Just over 67 years ago, thousands of Americans died on that beach fighting for the liberation of France.

Last November I visited Ground Zero, Manhattan. 10 years ago, thousands of people were murdered there for no good reason at all.

Since then, Omaha Beach has become a tranquil place of reflection, where only a few American flags, an abstract sculpture and some information panels hint at the deadly and atrocious battle that took place there.

Ground Zero is a hive of activity, with construction underway to mend the massive hole that 9/11 left in the Manhattan skyline and in the hearts of all Americans.

Nothing that could ever be built in either place could properly commemorate the tragic losses. It's not even possible to imagine them.

Thousands of people experienced the most terrifying day of their lives in those places.

In Normandy, the sound of ten thousand guns firing at once, the screaming, the shouting and the cries for help, the smell of death and fear, and the feeling that every movement could be your last. Every time you blinked, there was a chance you'd never open your eyes again.

In Manhattan, the smell of smoke, the site of people jumping from buildings, thoughts of your family and friends and the shock, the unbelievable shock that your world was not safe.

Thousands of people died in both of those places. There's no way that anyone could ever imagine exactly what that means. Thousands of people with lives, hopes, aspirations, jobs, families, friends, parents and children, died. Millions of people will never be born because of those two events.

Nothing could ever be built, done, written or said to properly convey the events that happened on September 11, but I'm glad people are trying.

I just hope that nothing like D-Day or 9/11 ever happens again. It's unlikely, but I'll keep hoping. I hope you do too.

Cardiff

Cardiff is a very unusual city for many reasons, but for me, it was most unusual because more than anywhere else we've visited in Europe, it felt so much like home.

New South Wales was named by Captain James Cook. He originally called it New Wales, but apparently he decided he was specifically talking about South Wales, and so amended it in his journal.

As we drove along the motorway from Merthyr Tydfill to Cardiff, we grabbed tiny glimpses of home. A little hamlet here, or a hill there just sparked a little recognition, and reminded us of something we'd seen in Australia.

Having said that, we possibly only saw that because we were looking for it, trying to work out what it was about the wild new land that James Cook thought was so much like South Wales.

If James Cook landed in 21st Century Newcastle, Australia, however, he may have seen similarities to 21st Century Cardiff.

Cardiff, the Welsh capital since 1955, is a small city of 340,000. It was once the world's largest coal port, and after the East Moors Steelworks closed in 1978 there was a decline in population.

However, since the late 20th Century, a huge infrastructure boom in the city has converted it into a cultural hub. In 1987 the Cardiff Bay Development Corporation was established, which was told:

"To put Cardiff on the international map as a superlative maritime city which will stand comparison with any such city in the world, thereby enhancing the image and economic well-being of Cardiff and Wales as a whole."

Cardiff Bay, which once was a purely industrial area, is now surrounded by beautiful buildings, a foreshore area, walking and cycling tracks and the dominant Wales Millennium Centre, home of the Welsh National Opera. The area is serviced by a railway line that runs a regular service to the Centre of Cardiff, 1.5 kilometers away. The line services over 600,000 passengers annually, up from 250,000 in 2004.

We arrived there on a Sunday, the day before Bank Holiday, so the roads were pretty quiet. We drove on a motorway (speed limit 110kph) almost all the way into the centre of Cardiff, and with only simple directions found our way to a caravan park in Bute Park, right next to Swalec Stadium, a Test Cricket arena.

The sun was setting and the dark green trees cast stunning shadows across the park.

The following morning (Bank Holiday) we went on a 1 hour walk through central Cardiff. We discovered that the caravan park was a very short walking distance from Cardiff Castle, the main shopping district, the huge and beautiful Bute Park, Millennium Stadium (home of the Welsh National Rugby Union team) a water bus stop (with services to Cardiff Bay) and Cardiff Central Railway Station. We walked past all these at a slow pace, stopping to take photos and buy smoothies, in under an hour.

On the way back we stopped to watch some cricket through the gaps in Swalec Stadium.

In the afternoon, a relative took us on a tour of Cardiff, where she has lived and worked for 17 years.

First she took us to Chapter - a council operated facility that houses one live action theatre, two cinemas and a great restaurant.

The cinemas run independent, arty, small films and the theatre is apparently successful. It was around lunchtime on a public holiday and the restaurant was buzzing. The menu proved it was a "trendy" place for all the arty kids to eat with more than 20 vegetarian or vegan options.

The Bay area is remarkable - the jewel in Cardiff's extremely modern crown. As mentioned earlier it's the home of the Millennium Centre, with two theatres, a gallery and another restaurant and bar.

Outside, the Cardiff Bay festival was going on in Roald Dahl Plass (site of the entrance to Torchwood, Doctor Who fans), with rides, markets, sideshows and in the late afternoon, an airshow featuring people doing acrobatic tricks on top of biplanes (seriously).

Cardiff Bay was really converted into a public and tourist area in the 90's when the Cardiff Bay Barrage was built. Cardiff Bay opens onto the Bristol Channel, which boasts the world's second largest tidal variation, which means that the bay was reduced to mud flats during low tide.

The Barrage was built to turn the mud flat bay into a real water feature, and is essentially a dam across the mouth of the bay featuring 3 huge locks which continuously let boats in and out of the bay. During the hour we spent at the barrage we saw around 20 sailing and motorboats go through the two operating locks, while people sailed and water skied around the bay.

The bay was beautiful. It's no longer industrial, but it's a hive of activity.

As we headed out of Cardiff about 24 hours after we arrived on one of the several motorways in town, I really hoped I'd be back someday. It really felt a lot like home.

Sent from iPhone

British roads

Having now driven a 6 metre long vehicle for well over 1000 miles on British roads, I have some observations.

- I'm pretty sure there are more speed cameras than speed signs.
- despite petrol being measured in litres, distance, width and height are measured in miles, feet, inches and yards. This causes problems when you're approaching a speed camera or low bridge and having to do conversions in your head. I.E. "40 miles is 65 k's, right? Right?!"; "are we under 14 feet high? We're about 9 aren't we? Duck just to be sure."
- single carriageway highways are 60 mph (95 kph), but there's no prior warning when you're approaching a sharp turn on a windy road apart from "SLOW" (or in Wales "ARAF/SLOW"). Consequently we slow the motorhome down to about 40kph at every turn. There's no difference in signage between a 5 degree bend and a 150 degree hairpin turn.
- all vaguely major roads are numbered. Consequently we're regularly saying "turn right at the B1782, not the B1783".
- North Wales isn't built for motorhomes. We were shouted and fist waved once and we clipped the mirror of a car towing a caravan going the other way. Also, it's easier to drive a few kilometres in the wrong direction to a roundabout rather than attempt a U-Turn in the motorhome.
- Scottish people are very polite on the roads, particularly in the Highlands. They'll blink their hazard lights in thanks if you pull over and let them overtake you. It's very rewarding.
- Welsh people do not blink their lights in thanks.
- the speed limit on most dual carriageways (including motorways) is 70mph (110kph), but some dual carriageways have regular roundabouts, meaning you're constantly speeding up to 110 then going back to 0.
- there are no utes (pickups for any American readers) in Britain. I've been keeping my eye out the whole time for them and haven't seen a single one.
- it's not uncommon to find a pair of elderly cyclists in the middle of the Welsh Highlands, miles from any town, in pouring rain. These people will not turn to look at the motorhome hurtling up behind them, but fearlessly continue to cycle on, uphill, in the middle of the single lane, until you find a spot to overtake them.
- parking facilities are not built for motorhomes. Most parking lots (including park & rides) have gates that limit the height of vehicles entering to 2 meters. We asked a caravan park owner why, and she replied "it's to keep our gypsies". This surprised us.
- people have no qualms about parking in the middle of a lane, turning a two way road into a one way road, only allowing one vehicle to pass at a time. It's completely legal too. People bend in their wing mirrors, so that buys you another 2 inches.
- distances on signs are unusually exact. I.E: "Salisbury - 4 1/4 miles" or "Parking - 270 yards"

I'm not sure what roads will be like on the continent, but I'm not sure they'll be much better. Looking forward to being back on the wide, long, straight, well signed roads back home.

Love thy neighbour

On Sunday I saw five speakers - four comedians and a Church of Scotland minister. All five touched on various issues of the world, and one of them offered what I think is a solution.
The four comedians were at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Hannah Gadsby, Dave Callan, Shappi Khoursandi and Rich Hall. They were all excellent, and all covered different issues.
Hannah Gadsby spoke about the difficulties of being gay in a small town. She's from Circular Head, Tasmania, and among other things, her comedy pokes fun at the strange mannerisms and at times small-mindedness of folks from the country. Like many people in rural Australia, she found it tough being different, and the tendency of people in rural areas to fear what they don't understand has had an impact on her life.
Shappi Khoursani is an Iranian-Brit. She immigrated from Iran to London when she was a toddler and her comedy discusses the difficulties she faced in England. She told stories (in an extremely funny way) about racism she was subject to. She also talked about how her father, a famous writer who was critical of the Islamic Republic of Iran, was sent numerous death threats and eventually his assassination was ordered by the Ayatollah of Iran (it was unsuccessful). These terrifying experiences have certainly had an impact on her, but she has turned it around and built a successful comedy career out of her sense of humour and life experience.
American comedian Rich Hall, who I know best from his appearances on QI with Stephen Fry, spoke about many, many problems that he sees in the world. He spoke about the UK riots, the American banking bust, the Global Financial Crisis, gay marriage, the Norway massacre and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, among many other things. As painfully hilarious as he was, he also gave a dour outlook on the state of the world, and despaired with his audience about how nothing was being done to help it. He didn't, however, offer a solution… which brings us to Reverend Anne Job.
Anne Job is a minister of the Church of Scotland in Fife and she was speaking at Dysart Kirk, where I went with two of my wife's family members, who we were staying with in the area. No matter whether you're Christian, atheist, Muslim, Buddhist, or anything else, her message was powerful. If you're thinking of stopping reading now that I'm about to quote the Bible, I urge you to keep going… it will all make sense soon.
She spoke primarily about Matthew 22:36-39 which says
"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?"
Jesus replied: '"Love the Lord your God with all our heart and with all your soul and with all your mind" This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbour as yourself'"
Reverand Job spoke a lot about "love your neighbour", and the more she spoke the more I realised… that's the answer.
I don't know whether it happened recently, or whether it's always been the case, but most people seem to be primarily focussed on what makes THEM happy, and what keeps THEM comfortable.
I don't think this is very sustainable. If we were living in a society where you had to fight to stay alive and hunt your own food and defend your land, then this sort of mentality would be completely understandable. If we were living in tribes in caves, and battling over limited resources and concerned that at any moment a bear might run into our den and eat us then it would be understandable. But we're not.
I'm going to assume now that you're reading this in a 21st century first world country. If you're not, then go about your business, and a hearty congratulations on making the internet work.
For those in a western country… you live in a society where everybody needs everybody else. We all need people to make our food (or at least grow it) we all need our government to function properly, and we all need people to drive properly on the road so that the cars don't all bump into each other.
What we need to realise is that if everyone was a bit nicer and more considerate of each other, then everyone would be happier. Love your neighbour.
If everyone (including the government) was a bit nicer to the underclass in Britain, they might not be looting. If bankers and businessmen on Wall Street were a bit nicer to their customers, and weren't too keen to line their own pockets, the American economy may not be ruined. If the world's political parties were a bit nicer to each other, and thought a bit more about the people they're supposed to represent, there might be some direction on things. If truck companies and drivers thought a bit more about the other people on the road, there might not be so many road accidents. If the people concerned about their company's bottom line thought a bit more about future generations, Australia might not be having a ridiculous argument about carbon pricing.
If people were a bit nicer and more considerate to Hannah Gadsby and Shappi Khoursani, they may have had easier childhoods, and if the Ayatollah of Iran was more considerate of his people, then Shappi's father wouldn't have written anything worth threatening death over.
It really solves most problems. It's not complicated and it's not new. Love your neighbour… just be a bit nicer to people.
Then again if that happened, what would the news report, and what would comedians talk about?

The London riots

On Monday night, we were catching the train home from seeing Les Miserables on the West End to where we're staying in Horley, south of London.

We arrived at Victoria Station at 11:30 and looked at the departures board to find out what train to catch. A number of services were cancelled. After checking Twitter, I discovered that the riots which previously were only in the North of London had spread to the southern suburbs of Clapham and Croydon.

We looked at the list of stopping points for our train. First stop: Clapham Junction, then East Croydon.

There was a tense atmosphere at the station. People whose trains through Ealing, central Clapham, Tottenham and Enfield had been cancelled searched the board for alternative services, and we nervously boarded our train.

As we approached Clapham Junction, the loudspeaker announced that some streets in Clapham and some exits of East Croydon station had been closed by police.

As we approached East Croydon station the train stopped. It was a frightening moment. I assured myself everything was ok, but the images I'd seen on TV made my heart feel like my car had lost power in the middle of Jurassic Park (we'd been to the Natural History Museum the day before). We were stuck on a train in a foreign city with rioting in front and behind us.

Nothing happened. After stopping for a few minutes the train proceeded to the station. People got off the train at East Croydon and strode confidently off into the night. They would wake the following morning to find shops and homes looted and the iconic local furniture store burned to the ground.

The experience made me wonder what would happen if this happened at home. If riots broke out in Sydney, would they spread to Newcastle, Melbourne and Brisbane like these ones spread to Manchester, Birmingham and Liverpool?

Would Australians smash the windows on their local high street, rob JB Hi Fi and Rebel Sport and burn Bunnings to the ground?

British politicians and media commentators hypothesise that it's an underprivileged lower class, angry at the establishment, with a lack of respect and discipline that caused these riots.

Magistrates are under pressure to give tough punishments to the rioters while politicians are revoking benefits for their families. Whether punishment solves the problem remains to be seen, but it's unlikely to work in the long term. If something isn't done to fix the problem then more than likely the children of these rioters will riot again in 15 or 20 years.

Personally I don't think Aussie thugs have it in them. I think that our society leaves less people behind than are required to do some real damage. I wouldn't bet my home or my business on it though.

I hope I don't have a train trip like that again. I especially hope I never have one like that in Australia.

I hope we have the sense to show our young people the respect they need, so they can reciprocate it, and I hope the hand that feeds continues feeding everyone enough.

If you want to read a really interesting opinion on the London riots, read Russell Brands piece in The Guardian: http://m.guardian.co.uk/uk/2011/aug/11/london-riots-davidcameron?cat=uk&type=articlep

London shoes

Bought from eager but unhelpful shop assistants on Oxford St who thought we were American, to replace Dunlop Volleys and Converse shoes and alleviate severe lower back and heel pain.