Goosebumps blanket my body which is shivering as it tries to adjust to the 4 degrees Celsius weather, but my mind is soon distracted when a young local man springs up behind us. His enthusiasm to help bursts out of his body like a teenager on ecstasy for the first time as he races around trying to find a bus that will take us to our hostel in Pawia Street.
Facing my fears at Auschwitz The next morning I wake in a sombre mood in preparation for the grim day ahead visiting Auschwitz. The camp is on the top of my list of things to see but it is also on the bottom. For the last seven years I have tried to stay clear of anything that explores deaths and grim discoveries after my mother put herself through torture and ended her life one morning while I was at school.
But I am at a stage in the grieving process where I feel ready to face my fears and the desire to learn about the history of WW11 is stronger than the urge to keep hiding from reality. My mind is quickly distracted as Mandy and I frantically try to find our way through the Galleria shopping mall to the entrance of the bus station. With the help of a wrinkled, grey-haired man sporting a cheese cutter hat and dirty work overalls, we finally find the bus to Auschwitz. Our country always works in our favour and almost works like a gate which foreigners consider open for conversation and friendships.
The walls which separate strangers have completely crumbled as our new friend, Arcadio, takes a seat in front of us. He turns and faces Mandy and I to continue chatting for the next 90 minutes. His eyes are friendly, his laugh is contagious and his mind is deep in thought. Arcadio has been living in Poland for the last three years studying architecture as an adult student.
He explains how Krakow became lodged in his mind after a family holiday as a child and today he is on his way to Babice to take photos of Polish country houses. Conversation flows as we share stories of travels, our countries, and in particular, New Zealand Maoris.
