Trip Journal - Poland & Ukraine May-June 2005

Submitted by John Diener

Introduction

Let me begin by providing a little bit of background information. Over the past five or six years, I have been very involved in genealogical research. I began by taking a handwritten Diener family tree that was drawn by my brother Joel about twenty years ago. Joel had interviewed some relatives at that time, and that had provided an excellent starting point for my research. I purchased some genealogical software, and entered Joel’s data. From there I began investigating and adding extensively to the tree. Not only did I work on the Diener tree, but I was able to compile an extensive family tree for my mother’s Luterman family with the assistance of a relative in Israel, Arthur Halpern.

I then became involved with genealogy at a community level. I joined the Jewish Genealogical Society of Ottawa, and attended two international conferences, the first one being in Toronto in 2002, and the second one, a year later, in Washington, D.C. At both of these conferences, I attended lectures by world famous genealogists, and connected with many people investigating their roots. Some of these individuals traced their ancestry to the same communities that our family does, so these contacts were very helpful in adding to my family knowledge. At the community level, I spent two summers with a friend and colleague, Hymie Reichstein, digitally photographing and databasing all of the gravestones, in the two Ottawa area Jewish cemeteries, compiling about 4000 pictures, for the eventual submission to an online burial registry, that can be used by researchers worldwide.

While collecting all of this data, I was extremely fortunate to locate many fairly close relatives with whom our Ottawa family had never had contact. Finding these people has led me to London, England, New Jersey, and Albany,New York to meet these new found cousins. Other cousins have found me, in particular one cousin, who like myself, has lived her whole life in Ottawa. We now see each other and our families on a regular basis. Just last month, I located one of my mother’s Luterman cousins living in Honolulu, and this discovery opened up a whole new branch of the family, and may eventually lead to a Hawaiian vacation This aspect of genealogical research has been particularly rewarding.

While learning more and more about the family, I also began to learn a lot about the communities that produced my ancestors. My late father often mentioned his hometown of Grzymalow, or Rimalov, as it was called in Yiddish. Doing the research, though, added a lot more to my knowledge of this community and the Galicia region, and of other communities where our ancestors lived. As I researched more, I found that I had a very strong desire to visit the “old country” to see where these family members came from, so about two years ago, I seriously began to think about making the trip to Poland and Ukraine.

As I mentioned earlier, it was my brother Joel who got the ball rolling many years ago. Joel was always interested in the Diener family, and also had a very strong knowledge and appreciation of history and geography. It was natural then, that he accompany me on this trip. As well, my son Brian, who shares Joel’s enthusiasm for history, chose to join us on this journey.

We timed the trip for early June of 2005. Several factors went into selecting that date. First of all, Brian, enrolled at McGill University in Montreal, had spent the school year on an exchange in Dublin, Ireland, and was scheduled to finish at the end of May. Secondly, the weather in Eastern Europe would probably be at its best in early June, and thirdly, Alexander Dunai, who would serve as our guide in Ukraine, was available at that time, provided that we booked him well in advance. I had used Alex’ services as a researcher a couple of years earlier. He was able to locate some marriage and electoral records for the Diener family from Grzymalow from the 1920’s and 1930’s, and I was fortunate to be able to attend a seminar that he gave at the 2003 genealogical conference in Washington. I also knew two other genealogists who had traveled with him, and they both recommended him highly.

Sunday, May 29th

Joel and I flew out of Ottawa at 3:00 pm, on the first of four flights that would take us to Krakow, Poland. We changed planes in Toronto, getting on an overnight Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, Germany, arriving on Monday morning.

Monday, May 30th

We arrived in Frankfurt, and felt a little strange being in Germany. Being Jewish, and having had many relatives killed at the hands of the Nazis, Germany was not a place that I ever imagined visiting. While I have met many Germans in Canada, and bear no animosity towards them for what happened in Europe, it still didn’t feel right being there. After getting off the plane, we walked down the corridor at the airport that led to shuttle buses that would take us to the main section of the terminal. At the end of the corridor, there was an official standing between two open doors. He pointed to the approaching passengers, and motioned some to go through the left door, and others to the right. Joel and I both had the same thought. We related this official’s selections to what happened in many of the Jewish communities in Eastern Europe in the 1930’s and 1940’s. Some Jews were sent one way, perhaps to be used as labour, and others were sent the other way to their deaths. As a symbolic act of defiance, when the official pointed us to the right door, Joel and I both went left. We did this without communicating with each other, which was very strange.

In the terminal, we had a couple of hours to wait before catching our Lot Airlines flight to Warsaw. We sat in a large waiting area, and spent the time watching the people. We were amazed at the diversity of races in that one large room. We saw blacks, oriental, Indians, and even a couple of Orthodox Jews, quite a different picture from what Hitler had wanted for his country seven decades earlier.

The next flight took us to Warsaw, and as in Frankfurt, we had about three hours before the next flight. As the weather was sunny and hot, we took advantage and sat outside. The warm air was inviting and welcome, especially since May in Ottawa had been cool and damp. After finishing our sun-tanning, we reentered the terminal building and lined up for the short Lot flight that would take us to Krakow.

Brian was waiting for us in the main section of the Krakow terminal. He had left Dublin that morning, and had taken two flights to get to Krakow, transferring in London. He arrived about an hour before Joel and I. The three of us made our way outside, and caught a taxi to the Hotel Polonia. Alex Dunai had suggested this hotel, because he thought that it had a lot of character, having been built in 1917, and also, because of its location. The Polonia is on the edge of the Old Town Historical District, and was within easy walking distance of Rynek Glowny, or Grand Square, the largest plaza of medieval Europe, and one of the world’s finest with its spectacular landmarks. The square has remained the hub of the city since the 13th century. Also within walking distance were the spectacular Wawel Castle and Cathedral, dating back to the 16th century, and Kazimierz, which served as the thriving Jewish quarter for centuries until the 1940’s.

After checking in and getting settled in our rooms, we decided to head out to see the sights. We crossed the street, and entered the Old Town. Krakow, unlike Warsaw, had survived the war without sustaining very much damage. We were told that when the Germans came to Krakow, the city officials negotiated with them immediately, and allowed the Germans to operate without much opposition. This agreement spared Krakow from much of the destruction that was evident in so many other cities. Because of this, we saw may beautiful old buildings, which made for a very pleasant walk on this very hot evening. The streets were alive with people as we crossed through the Grand Square, and made our way to Kazimierz.

In Kazimierz, the old Jewish quarter, we were able to locate the four Jewish synagogues that still remain for the very small Jewish community that now lives in Krakow. In 1938, the Jewish population in Krakow numbered about 60,000, making up about ¼ of the city’s population. The current Jewish population of the city is in the hundreds. One of the synagogues was open, the Temple Synagogue, built between 1860 and 1862. We entered, and were met by an old man, who obviously didn’t speak any English. We paid him about 25% more than the posted admission amount, and this made him very happy. The synagogue interior is very beautiful, and appears to be undergoing further restoration right now. We were very impressed by the magnificent decorations, the beautiful carvings on the walls, the ornate pillars and the stained glass. After spending a few minutes in this old shul, we said goodbye to the old gentleman, and in Hebrew, I asked him if there was an old Jewish cemetery in the area. He pointed down the street, and we headed in that direction.

We found the cemetery, but unfortunately, it is surrounded by high walls, and was not open to the public (or at least, not when we were there). We continued on, and saw some large pictures on the outside wall of a building advertising a photo exhibit. This exhibit was a documentary on Oskar Schindler, and his role in saving Jews in Krakow. Unfortunately, since it was already evening, we were not able to view the exhibit. We proceeded further, passing the Kupa synagogue, originally built in 1643, and rebuilt in the 19th century. A little further on, we came to a block of shops and restaurants that had been reconstructed to resemble the Kazimierz quarter of the 1930’s. We walked through quickly, before stopping at a restaurant for a quick meal, before returning to the Polonia.


Tuesday May 31st

The day started with a fairly nice breakfast buffet in the Polonia. After breakfast, we sat in the lobby awaiting the arrival of Alexander Dunai, who was to be our guide for the next 12 days. Alex is a renowned genealogical researcher, who is well known to those of us researching our roots in Eastern Poland and Western Ukraine. Before leaving Canada, I had arranged with Alex to meet us at 9:00 am in the hotel. Well, when 9:00 came and he hadn’t arrived, I was starting to worry a little, but didn’t say anything to Joel or Brian. About 9:10, he came running in, and apologized for being late, saying that the traffic in Krakow that morning had been terrible, as it had rained heavily during the night. I was very relieved to see him.

After the quick introductions, we headed outside, where his 1998 VW Passat station wagon was parked. This comfortable car was going to be our transportation for the next 12 days. Our first stop was going to be at the Wieliczka Salt Mine, located outside the city. Several people had told me that this was a must see if we were going to be in Krakow. It certainly exceeded our expectations. The mine consisted of more than 2000 underground chambers, connected by about 200 kms of tunnels, and was originally worked about 700 years ago. We began the tour by walking down several hundred stairs, and were then led on a two hour tour which demonstrated how the salt was mined, and showed us the beautiful chambers that had been built. The most impressive was the huge cathedral, complete with seating and chandeliers, and elaborate pictures carved into the rock walls. There is even a soccer field contained within this underground city. We left the mine totally amazed by what we had seen.

After the mine, we made our way to a very different type of venue, the infamous Auschwitz death camp. We arrived there not knowing how we would react to seeing the site made so famous by the murders of so many people. Auschwitz is actually two camps, Auschwitz-I, and Birkenau, also known as Auschwitz-II. Alex had told us that he would tour the camps with us if we wanted, but would prefer to stay in the parking lot if we didn’t need him. He explained that even though he had been there many times, it bothers him greatly to revisit. We told him that he could stay behind, and we then entered the grounds.

We first watched a short movie on the liberation of the camp, and then proceeded out the theatre door into the main entrance to the camp. We immediately saw the famous “ARBEIT MACHT FREI” (WORK BRINGS FREEDOM), sign over the gate, and after passing under the sign, began touring the exhibits that were on display in the former camp barracks buildings. While the exhibits were interesting, the whole experience at Auschwitz-I felt very wrong to the three of us. First of all, the place had too much of a museum look to it, with all of the pictures on the walls, and the very polished displays. I guess that we had expected to see things more like how they looked sixty years ago. As well, there were hundreds of tourists visiting that day, and I hate to say that it felt a little like being at Disneyworld. When we got to the crematorium, there was a group of Japanese tourists posing in front of the ovens for a group picture, and the whole camp was filled with busloads of school children out on field trips, as the school year was coming to an end. All of these factors made us feel like we were missing the true experience of visiting Auschwitz. We left feeling somewhat disappointed.

Back in the parking lot, we met up with Alex, who then drove us the three kilometres to Auschwitz-II (Birkenau). Before parking in the lot at the entrance, Alex suggested that we drive down the road that passes to the left of the camp. What we saw was amazing. There were row after row of barracks and ruins of barracks still standing from the 1940’s. We imagined the many thousands of people who might have been imprisoned in these buildings at any one time. The size and the number of these structures was overwhelming, and apparently, only represent a fraction of the actual number of barracks that stood on the grounds more than sixty years earlier. Upon reaching the end of the camp, we were shocked to see homes built on the adjoining properties. People were sitting in the window of one of the homes looking out towards the fields containing the ruins of the former crematoriums. I found it difficult to imagine how anyone could live there knowing that 1.5 million or more people had been killed a few metres away.

We drove back and parked the car. Joel, Brian, and I entered Birkenau through the main gate. Train tracks pass through this entrance, and continue up the middle of the camp. I remembered the scene from Schindler’s List that was filmed at this very spot, with the train bringing the condemned prisoners to the camp through the very same gate through which we had just walked. We continued walking along the tracks through the camp, stopping to enter some of the barracks. Unlike Auschwitz-I, Birkenau’s barracks had not been filled with museum displays, but were left the way they were during the war. We walked through these long narrow buildings, looking at the hard wooden bunks that the inmates had to sleep on. Down the middle of each barracks, there was a long row of a raised area with holes spaced at even intervals. This obviously was used as toilet facilities for the residents of that building. It was hard to imagine the inhumanity of imprisoning so many people in such horrible accommodations. While each building had an oven used for heating, there was only one duct running down the length of the structure. Of course, these barracks were not insulated, and there were openings at the top, so it must have been bitterly cold in the winter months, especially since most people were malnourished, and often quite ill.

At the far end of the camp, a massive monument and seating area had been constructed. This is where world leaders gathered earlier this year to commemorate the 60th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation. Off to the side were ruins of the gas chambers that did such an effective job for the Nazis, and nearby was a pond which contains ashes of the camp’s victims. Joel found a Yahrtzeit candle and lit it as our memorial to those who had been murdered. We walked back to the entrance, which took about ten minutes, visited a few more of the barracks, and met Alex at the car.

While Auschwitz 1 didn’t get to us, we were certainly moved by Birkenau. We drove back to Krakow saying very little in the car. All of us were deep in thought trying to digest what we had just experienced.

Back in Krakow, we went to dinner at a very nice Polish restaurant, with live music playing, and waiters in traditional costumes. The duck was delicious, although a little overcooked. I thought back to the afternoon’s events, and wondered what a feast our meal would have been to the people who passed through Auschwitz six decades earlier.

Wednesday June1st – my 25th wedding anniversary

Once again Alex met us at 9:00 am in the lobby of the Polonia. Today, we were scheduled to leave Krakow, and cross the border from Poland to Ukraine, with a little touring of Krakow first, followed by a stop in the afternoon at Belzec, the death camp near the border that was responsible for 600,000 Jewish deaths in nine months of 1942. The day would end in Lviv.

On Monday, while on our own, the three of us had walked through old Krakow, and had ended up in the former Jewish section. This morning, Alex suggested that we visit some of the areas that we hadn’t seen by ourselves. The most impressive sight in Krakow is the Wawel Royal Castle, built on high ground overlooking the town. It is considered one of the most beautiful royal palaces in Europe. Originally built in the 14th century, destroyed by fire in 1499, and then rebuilt, it is magnificent. We entered the cathedral as well, also built in the 14th century, and were impressed with the fantastic art treasures. The cathedral is also the burial place of poets and Polish royalty, with elaborate tombs marking the burial places of these historic people. We then walked through the cobblestone streets, making our way to the huge main square, all the time listening to Alex tell us bits of historical information that pertained to what we were seeing. One of the most interesting stories was about the watchman in the 13th century. When he saw Turkish invaders approaching, he began to play his trumpet as a warning. A Turkish warrior’s arrow hit him in the throat, and he was unable to finish what he started. To this day, the trumpet is played in the same location each morning, and the trumpeter stops at exactly the same point in the song where the watchman stopped after being hit 800 years ago.

After finishing with this tour of the city, we headed back to the car, and left Krakow for our trip east to Lviv, stopping first at Belzec. While Belzec isn’t as well known as Auschwitz, it is very relevant to our family history. It is the camp that was used to liquidate much of the Jewish population of the Galica region of eastern Poland and western Ukraine. In fact my father’s two sisters, Gitel and Nechama, and many cousins were murdered at Belzec in 1942. In October of that year, the Nazis came to my father’s town of Grzymalów and to the neighbouring towns, and during one operation put my grandmother and the two girls on the train, which would take them to their deaths at Belzec. My grandmother told the girls, who were 13 and 15 years old at the time, that when the opportunity seemed right, that she would jump off the train, and the girls should follow her. My grandmother jumped, but the sisters panicked, and stayed on the train. The train continued on, and Gitel and Nechama became two of the 600,000 Jews murdered at Belzec in 1942.

As the war was winding down, and the Nazis realized that they were going to lose, they started destroying as much evidence as possible. Because of this, none of the buildings that existed at the Belzec camp remain today. Several years ago, a campaign was launched to build an impressive monument to those who perished there. On the grounds where the camp existed, in a rectangular shape, are tons and tons of broken stones and rubble. There is a sidewalk following the perimeter of the camp, and on the sidewalk are inscribed the names of the towns whose residents were liquidated at the camp. The town names are displayed by the date of liquidation, so sure enough, in the October 1942 section, Grzymalów appears. I also located the names of other towns that are relevant to our family. There is also a sidewalk going straight down the middle of the camp, leading to an impressive set of walls at the back of the camp. Two of the walls contain common Jewish first names in alphabetical order, and I took pictures of the sections with the names Gitel and Nechama. After walking the perimeter of the camp, which took about 15 minutes, we entered the small, but excellent museum that was built near the entrance. We spend a few minutes there looking at the exhibits that displayed the history of the communities that were wiped out, as well as the progression of the Germans through the region, as they destroyed town after town.

Visiting Belzec for me was extremly emotional. The realization that I was standing on the grounds that took the lives of my two aunts, who perished twelve years before I was born was overwhelming. As we left the museum, I stopped at the information desk and picked up two copies of a form. The museum is trying to get as much information as possible on individuals who perished there, so I will fill out these papers in memory of Gitel and Nechama. While we were walking back to the car, I realized that we were the only visitors at Belzec at that time, which I think added to the experience.

Belzec is very close to the Ukrainian border, and Alex told us that we would be there in a few minutes, but that didn’t mean that we would be crossing quickly. True to his word, before too long, we encountered a long line of cars, mostly with their engines turned off, and mostly loaded with bags on onions inside and on the roofs, waiting to cross the border. Most of these cars were very old Russian Volgas and Ladas, in very poor condition. As things ground to a halt, Alex was not content to get into line. He manoeuvred his car around these stopped vehicles, quite often driving into the lane of approaching vehicles, and even driving to the left of these vehicles. At times, he appeared to be boxed in between other cars, but somehow, he managed to get out of these jams every time. The road was also crawling with Polish border guards, all heavily armed, and the whole scene reminded me of something out of a movie. I had read reports by other North Americans taking similar trips in Eastern Europe, and facing four to six hours waits at the border, so I was prepared to sit and wait in the car. Every few metres, an officer would ask Alex to roll down his window, and ask him why he was pushing ahead. In Polish, Alex told these guards that he had three visitors from Canada in the car, and it was disgraceful that we had to sit and wait in the line like the poor people and their onions. Each time, the guard would motion for us to continue, and we were amazed by the way the system worked.

We inched forward, and finally came to an officer who told Alex that he wouldn’t let him move ahead unless Alex spoke to a superior officer. This officer was stationed in a small building at the actual border, so Alex got out of the car, with our passports, and walked down the road to meet the officer. The building wasn’t visible from the car, and after a few minutes, we were wondering if we would ever see Alex again. During the course of the day, as we were driving, Alex had told us stories about how it was often necessary to bribe officials, and we were sure that it would cost us money to cross the border ahead of the hundreds of cars waiting in line. While waiting, I really wanted to take pictures of the scene, but resisted the temptation, fearing that an officer would see me and possible confiscate the camera. After a few minutes, we saw Alex’ large figure in the distance returning in our direction, and as he approached the car, noticed him smiling. He entered the vehicle, and resumed driving around the parked procession of vehicles. With all of the congestion, it still took a few minutes to reach the border, but we soon crossed and entered Ukraine. On the Ukrainian side, we were interviewed by that country’s officials, made to fill our some forms, and were soon on our way. The whole procedure of crossing from Poland to Ukraine took about an hour. I had been warned that the normal crossing time was four to twelve hours.

Once we got through Ukrainian customs, and started driving towards Lviv, we asked Alex what happened with the senior Polish official, and how much it had cost us. Alex said that no money was necessary; he merely explained one more time that it was shameful that visiting Canadians should have to sit in line for hours, and that argument prevailed one more time. Alex could have easily told us that it had cost him fifty or one hundred dollars to bribe the official, and we would have paid him, but Mr Dunai is obviously an honest man. After returning home, I read someone else’s account of their similar border crossing with Alex, and they said as well that they had expected it to cost them money, but Alex proved his honesty with them as he had with us.

The drive from the border to Lviv was uneventful. We arrived at the Hotel George around 7:00 pm. The hotel is on the main street of the city, and was built in 1901. It must have been a very fancy building in its time, and had been maintained reasonably well, however not to the standards of a fine old North American hotel. The rooms however, were large, clean, and comfortable, which is all that we really required.

As Alex lives in Lviv, once we were settled, he returned home. He had given us directions to three good restaurants within walking distance of the George, and we ended up at Kupol, a very pretty restaurant, decorated with very nice artwork and soft colours. A very shy waitress served us, and while they had a bilingual menu, she did not speak English, so we ordered by pointing to the items in the menu. We ate well. We tried soups, appetizers, main courses, and several side dishes. Everything was quite good. Joel and I tried a tongue salad, which was delicious, and the main courses were either chicken or pork. The sides were the expected eastern European things like perogies, and potato pancakes. Joel and Brian each had a beer, and we left there very full. The bill, with tip, came to 180 hrivnias, which converted to about $13 CDN each, quite a meal for very little. We would find that as we travelled through Ukraine, that meals would be even cheaper. This one was more expensive than the average because we were in a fairly fancy restaurant in a large city.

We walked back to the hotel, and realized that we had experienced another very full day from the tour of Krakow in the morning, the drive through Poland to Belzec, the emotional time we spent there, the fascinating border crossing, and the delicious meal in Lviv. I think that we all slept very well that evening.

Thursday June 2nd

As was the case almost everywhere that we travelled, breakfast was included with the hotel stay. After breakfast, where we were given a choice of eggs or cheese pancakes, Alex arrived to take us on a tour of Lviv. While under Polish rule between the two world wars, the city was known as Lvov, and before 1918, when under Austrian-Hungarian rule, was Lemberg. It is interesting to note depending on when the ancestor came to North Anerica, different family members have different ideas about the origins of the Dieners, even though they all came from the town of Grzymalów. While Grzymalów is currently in Ukraine, when my dad lived there it was in Poland, so my father said he came from Poland. My cousin Debbie in Washington told me that her grandfather came from Austria, and that is true, as he came to the United States long before WWI. so when doing genealogy, it is important to know a little bit about history and geography to minimize the confusion.

Our tour began in the former Jewish section of the city. Lviv, like most Eastern European cities, had a thriving Jewish community that operated successfully for centuries. Before the war, there were synagogues, schools, residences, and businesses all located in these few blocks. Very little remains, but while walking through the quarter, we did see buildings where mezuzahs had once been attached to the doorframes, and some Yiddish lettering appearing under the repainted walls. We went to the sight of the Golden Rose synagogue, where all that remains are portions of two exterior walls and a lot of rubble where the interior of the building once was. Two pieces of graffiti stood out on these ruins. The first was a swastika, and the second were the Hebrew letters spelling out the word “Zachor”, or remember. It was as if the Hebrew graffiti was a reply to the swastika. I must point out though, that through the course of touring both in Poland and in Ukraine, this was the only place where I noticed any anti-semitic references as all. Generally, I was impressed with the many monuments remembering the Jewish communities that have been maintained in a clean and unvandalized fashion. I believed that there was still a lot of anti-semitic feeling, but it was not evident at Jewish sights, or when talking to Ukrainians. I believe, and hope, that those feelings are behind us, at least in the area of Ukraine that we travelled.

While walking through the quarter, we noticed an obviously observant Jewish man on one of the streets. Alex told us that he knew the man, and introduced us to Meylach Sheykhet. In English, we talked for just a minute or two, and then Meylach quickly left as a passenger in a waiting car. After his quick departure, we realized that we had missed an opportunity. We should have spent more time with him, and learned about what it is like for a religious Jew to live in Ukraine, where all of the existing institutions had been destroyed. Alex told us that Meylach is a friend of his, and that we could call him, and arrange to meet him later, but did not tell us anything more about his friend, other than to indicate that our meeting with Meylach would prove to be interesting.

We then continued on, visiting the entrance to the former Lviv ghetto, an area of several blocks, where during the war, the Jews of the region were corralled, and forced to live in terribly congested conditions until the time came for them to be transferred to Belzec. There is a very nice square at the entrance, with monuments remembering the ghetto and its inhabitants. Alex pointed out that the ghetto entrance was there because of its proximity to the train tracks, which were just outside the gates. We spent a few minutes at the monuments, and then drove through the streets of the ghetto area. Our next sight was the location of a mass grave. Not everyone was killed at Belzec. There was at least one mass shooting of Jews, who were buried in a large pit in a beautiful park-like area very close to the ghetto. A monument marks the area where this occurred, and the actual location of the burial pit is behind a locked fence gate. Fortunately, a caretaker was working at the site that morning, and allowed us to enter. Alex told us that this was the first time that he was actually able to enter the grounds, which were normally locked.

We continued on to the train station, the spot close to the ghetto where the victims were loaded onto the cars to take them to their deaths at Belzec. A woman was waiting for the train with her two small children, and I thought of my grandmother with her two daughters, boarding the train sixty-three years ago. The little girl was very cute, and I gave her and her brother each a pin displaying the Canadian and Ukrainian flags. The little girl’s face lit up, and she smiled all the way to the train, and waved to us as she boarded. I thought of all the innocent little children who boarded trains during the war, not realizing that they would soon be killed, thinking that they were merely going on a train ride. The pictures I took of this family are among the ones that affect me the most when viewing them.

Alex then suggested that we try to contact Meylach, so we drove to his home to make the call. He lives in a low rise apartment right in Lviv, with his wife Natalie, and two children. While the place was small, it was nicely furnished and comfortable. Alex found Meylach’s number on his computer, we all checked our emails, and then made arrangements to meet with Meylach that afternoon. We left the apartment, went to a supermarket, where we were impressed with the quality and selection, bought some snacks for lunch, and then went to meet Meylach at his apartment/office.

Meylach’s apartment was on the second floor of what looked like a five or six story apartment building. The building was part of a group of identical buildings on the street. We walked to the entrance, and were shocked by the rundown condition of the place. It reminded me of the poor tenement type apartments that we see on the American police shows that house drug dealers and criminals. It really was a scary place. Meylach’s apartment was up a flight of stairs, and when we entered, we were surprised to see that it served as an office as well. We noticed that there were several people working in the apartment, both teenagers and adults. Meylach greeted us, and took us to a room at the end of the hallway. The room had a couple of computers, and fax machines, so it was obviously a workplace. Meylach started to tell us a little about what he does, and gave me his business card. He represents and organization called Union of Councils for Soviet Jewry, American Jewish Organisation for Human Rights, and his title is Director of American-Ukrainian L’viv bases Bureau of Human Rights and Rule of Law. The card gives his Ukrainian contact numbers as well as an address in Washington, DC.

After offering us refreshments, he started telling us about what he does and what life is like for the Jews remaining in Ukraine. We found out that he fights for the rights of the Jewish population, as well as for those who assisted the Jewish community during the war. He also provides social services for Jewish Ukrainians, things like Meals on Wheels programs, and counselling. Obviously, he is committed to his way of life, and he believes that he has to preach the orthodox teachings to preserve the Jewish religion and culture. We were very moved by what he had to say, and amazed by how much someone like him was able to do against all of the obstacles that were in front of him. Most of his support comes from the United States, and Joel told him that we would try to help him establish a Canadian branch to assist him in his work. He invited us for Shabbat dinner the following evening, but we had to decline as we were scheduled to be away from Lviv at that time. We did leave him with a $100 US donation, which he graciously accepted, and he promised to email me more information on his organisation.

We drove back towards downtown, and walked with Alex through some of the areas that we hadn’t yet visited before returning to the hotel. Dinner that evening was at the Kupol once again. We did stop at one of the other restaurants that Alex had suggested, but since it was much more expensive, offered the same type of food, and we had had such a good meal the previous night, it made sense to return. We were fortunate enough to be served by the same waitress, who I am not sure was happy to see us again. Once more, the food was excellent, and she even let us take her picture before leaving.

Friday, June 3 - GrzymaLÓw

This day promised to be an important one for us. We were going to Grzymalów, the birthplace of my father, Nathan. All of our lives we were aware of this town, so there was a lot of anticipation as we started the day. Alex met me at the hotel, and the two of us went to the bank to exchange some travellers cheques for US cash. As in many countries, cashing travellers cheques is a major task, involving going to the bank, meeting with the manager, and filling out forms. Alex says that he is so used to their system that he finds it hard to believe that in North America, almost any store, restaurant, or hotel will take a travellers cheque without even asking for identification. After the transaction, we walked back to the hotel, met Joel and Brian, checked out, and made our way to the car for the short trip to our ancestral shtetl.

Before reaching Grzymalów, we arrive at the town of Skalat. This town was important to us, because during the war, the Grzymalów Jews were rounded up and forced into the ghetto in Skalat, which is located less than 10 miles north of Grzymalów. We stopped the car at the sign indicating the town name, and Alex took a picture of the three of us under the sign. We then continued on for about 15 minutes to Grzymalów. Once again, as we entered the town, Alex pulled over, and the three of us were photographed under the sign. We then entered the town with great eagerness, not knowing what we would find.

Grzymalów, or Rimalov as it was known in Yiddish, is in a beautiful, lush region. We saw meadow after meadow with poppies growing wild. Older Ukrainian babushkas, with the kerchiefs on their heads, were walking on the side of the road, some of them leading a cow on a rope. As we would see in all of the rural areas we would visit, goats and chickens walked freely in the yards and on the roads. A woman across the road from the town hall was drawing water from a well. We imagined that the scene must have looked very similar six decades ago when my father lived there. Probably the only major change to what the town looked like were the electricity and telephone lines connected to the homes, and that in those days, Hassidic Jews walked the streets as well. Three years ago, I had been sent some photos taken by a friend in California who visited Grzymalów, and when seeing those pictures, I was amazed by the greenery and by the beautiful blue skies. Previous to seeing those photos, I had always imagined Grzymalów and my dad’s wartime experiences in black and white. The bright colours didn’t seem to make sense until I really stopped to think about it.

Alex took us to ruins of a fairly large building located on a good sized piece of property. Although this hasn’t been confirmed, he thought that it was the remains of the old cheder, or Jewish school. We walked the grounds for a few minutes, and then drove to the Grzymalów town hall, a very Soviet looking grey building in excellent condition with an interlocking stone sidewalk in front of it. When we entered the building, we came across four women, who appeared to be employees. Alex introduced us to the ladies in Ukrainian, and told them that our father and previous generations had come from the town. He asked if they had any town records dating back to the prewar years. Immediately, there was a flurry of activity, and boxes started coming out of cupboards. Nothing could be found upstairs of any value to us, and one of the ladies told Alex that there were older boxes in the basement. Unfortunately, there is no power in the basement, so two of the women went downstairs with candles to continue the search. A few minutes later, they reappeared looking very disappointed, as they had not been able to find anything older than 1945, three years after the Jews of the town had been liquidated.

One of the women, named Maria showed us a letter, and we were surprised to see that it was on Meylach Sheykhet’s letterhead and signed by him. It was a protest by his organisation over the fact that construction had been done, and was continuing to be done, on the grounds of the Jewish cemetery that had been destroyed by the Nazis. The letter had a map of the town attached to it showing the large area where the cemetery had been before the war. We were amazed to see this letter written by the man with whom we had spent time the previous day.

Alex then asked if there might be anyone old in the town who might remember people from the Jewish community. One of the women told us that they had already sent for “the old man”, and sure enough, in a few minutes a gentleman in his 90’s by the name of Stanislav Mylyi walked up the steps of the town hall to greet us. Alex introduced us, and then began to question him about what he remembered from when “the Jews lived here”. Mr. Mylyi started telling us about where the Jewish homes and shops were, and gave us a brief overview of the community. Alex then enquired about family names that he might remember, and when he was asked about the Diener name, he told us that there was a Moshe Diener with two children, a daughter and a son, who was in the leather business. Mr. Mylyi had been a shoemaker and had sold his products to this Mr. Diener. This made some sense to us as the Dieners tended to be in the cattle and leather business in the region. We do have three Moshes on the family tree, so it could have been one of them. One of our Moshes did have two children, Pinchas and Pepi, and our Moshe, his wife Jenta and the two children were all killed in the Holocaust. Mylyi then asked us if we would like him to go in the car with us to see where the Jewish sites were in the town, and of course, we took him up on that offer.

As we drove through the town, we were shown the location of the Jewish cemetery, which now has homes build on the site. It covered a fairly large area, so there was obviously a sizeable Jewish community living there before the war. Mylyi pointed out some homes that had been Jewish owned, and then took us to the ruins of the former synagogue. While the building has no roof, and the interior was destroyed, the walls are still standing, and in one of the upper windows (they are all missing their glass), there is ironwork with a Star of David clearly displayed in the centre. We spent a few minutes around this crumbling building before getting back in the car with Mr. Mylyi.

We headed back toward the town hall, and Mr. Mylyi never stopped talking about things that he remembered. When we got back, we all got out of the car, and Maria came over to speak to us. She told Alex that we should drive Mylyi back to his home, which we had planned to do, but that we should not be upset if he doesn’t invite us in for refreshments. She explained that he is extremely poor, and lives in very primitive conditions without electricity. This is because for most of his life, he was self-employed as a shoemaker, and does not qualify for a government pension. He is very proud, though, and would not want us to see how he lives. We drove him down the road to his home, which was not clearly visible behind the tall bushes, and gave him a few dollars. He thanked us, shook hands, and wished us well on our journey.

Maria, who seemed to be in charge, had told us that there was someone else who might remember things, so as it was now closing time at the town hall, she decided to come with us in the car, to meet a woman named Roma, who would probably remember things from the pre-war days. Roma and her husband lived a couple of streets away, and when we got to her home, we found her working in her garden. Like everyone else that we met in Grzymalów, she was extremely friendly, and wanted to help us as much as possible. She explained that she, too, had known a lot of Jewish people, but not by name. The interaction between the Jewish residents and the non-Jews was generally for business only, so she remembered the tailor, the butcher, etc, but not their names.

One story she did tell us though, was that she had known the rabbi’s family, as the rabbi’s daughter had given her German lessons before the war. When the Germans came to Grzymalów and started to round up the Jews, the rabbi suffered a heart attack. Feeling that he was close to death, the rabbi’s daughter frantically came to Roma and asked that if the rabbi was to die, and the rabbi’s family was not able to retrieve his body for proper burial, that Roma’s family attempt to recover it. Sure enough, three days later, the rabbi died, and the rest of his family was in hiding or had been arrested, so Roma’s family went to the officials, risking their own safety, and paid to claim the body for burial in the Jewish cemetery. Roma said that they did this because she considered the rabbi’s daughter to be her friend. I asked her through Alex if the rabbi was Rabbi Weidenfeld, who was the well known rabbi of the town, and she said that she didn’t know the family by name, or at least couldn’t remember it 65 years later.

We returned with Maria to the town hall, dropped her off, and headed to the southern border of the town, where we saw the location of a mass gravesite just off the road. While this location represented one of the countless horrors of the Holocaust that we saw over the two weeks, the scenery at this spot was among the most beautiful. The gravesite was just off the road a few metres up a gently sloped hill that overlooks a most picturesque fertile meadow, with cows grazing on the lush green grass. There are two soccer goal frames standing in the pasture as well, so this property is obviously used for recreation as well as for agriculture. In the background, we could see some of the town buildings in the distance. The scene would have made for a gorgeous postcard. We imagined my father and his cousins playing in these fields and along the banks of the nearby river, before the horrors of the war would change everything.

Within sight of the sign indicating the end of Grzymalów, we saw the sign showing the border of the next town, Bitziki. While my father didn’t speak much of Bitziki, he did say that for a short period of time, the family did live there. The two towns are so close together, that it would be like moving to another street in the same neighbourhood in a Canadian city. We drove into Bitziki, which was very tiny, but there were only a few homes there, and we did not stop to interview anyone. We turned around, headed north, back into Grzymalów, and out to Skalat.

During the war, when the Nazis came to Grzymalów, some of the Jews were murdered immediately, and the rest were taken to Skalat, and put into the ghetto. While bigger cities like Lviv had large ghettos that encompassed several blocks, the Skalat ghetto was comprised of two warehouse-like buildings. My father, his parents, cousins, and many more from the region, had been taken here. Alex knew which buildings served as the ghetto, pointed them out to us, and this was confirmed by a resident of Skalat, who was walking by as we got there. We didn’t find out what the buildings are being used for today.

We then drove a short distance to the outskirts of town, where a large monument had been constructed several years ago in memory of the Jews of Skalat. There was a ceremony there about three years ago, unveiling the monument, and I have video sent to me by my friend and genealogical colleague, Pamela Weisberger of California, who was there at the time. Much of this impressive monument was constructed from former gravestones that had been salvaged from the area.

From there, we experienced one of the most moving happenings of our trip. My grandmother, Frieda Diener, had been taken from the Skalat Ghetto on April 7, 1943 with about 800-900 other women, forced to disrobe, and was marched about two miles outside the town. There, they were made to dig a large pit, and one by one, were shot by the Nazis. The pit was covered with dirt, and evidently, not everyone died immediately from their wounds, and the locals reported that the next day, the ground was still moving in spots from victims who were still alive. Alex told us that he had been to the site of this mass killing, and that he thought that he would be able to find it. We left the town, drove down a country road, but could not find the exact location. Alex remembered that it was not visible from the road, but was sure that we were very close. Some children were playing at the side of the road, so we stopped and asked if they knew where the Jews had been killed. They all pointed into the field, and showed us where there was a path that the car could take to get to the spot. We followed the trail into the field, and right in the middle of nowhere, by a grove of trees, we spotted the beautiful monument that had been built to mark the event. We got out of the vehicle, and I was very moved thinking of my grandmother who I never had the chance to meet, who perished on this very spot 62 years ago. I thought of my own children, and the close relationships they had with all of their grandparents, and wished that I could have known my father’s parents. We stayed at the scene a few minutes, place a few stones on the monument as a tribute to the people who died, and then returned to the car for the trip back to Ternopil.

What a day this had been. We had visited the town of our ancestry, walked the same streets that my father, grandparents, great-grandparents and many more relatives had walked. We had ended the day’s touring at the exact location of my grandmother Frieda’s murder. This would be a day not to be forgotten.

Saturday, June 4th

After breakfast, we checked out of the Halichina Hotel, and began the drive to Kamenets-Podolsky. Alex had suggested to us that since the previous day’s events had been so emotional and meaningful, and that we may not have the opportunity again, that we drive back through Skalat and Grzymalów. This was only a slight detour, but one that he thought would be worthwhile.

We retraced the previous day’s route, but this time only drove through the shtetls, taking a good last look at our ancestors’ towns, and then continued to Trembowla or Terebovla. This town is less than 15 miles from Grzymalów, due west. The drive was very enjoyable, as the scenery was very impressive, made up of never ending lush green meadows, and gently rolling hills. I first became aware of Terebovla after reading a biography by Sam Helper, named Darkness and Hope. Mr. Helper was born in Terebovla, and wrote about his experiences before, during, and after the war. The book was of interest to me, because many of Halpern’s experiences are identical to those of my father. Halpern’s mother was murdered in the group of 800 on April 7th, 1943 with my grandmother, and both Halpern and my father were at the Kamionka labour camp at the same time, and escaped together with about 200 others, just hours before the camp was burnt to the ground. As well, I located Yad Vashem Pages of Testimony where Sam Halpern remembered five of his Diener relatives who were betrayed by a Ukrainian woman for a bag of sugar.

We didn’t stop in Terebovla, other than to purchase some refreshments at a roadside stand, and then because we had nothing major on the itinerary, Alex suggested that we drive to Borshiv, which is known for its caves. By this time, it was quite hot, and the idea of spending an hour or two inside a cave was appealing. We parked in an open area at the base of a very steep hill, and trekked upwards to the cave entrance area. Once Alex saw that we were in the right place, he returned to the car. He always worried about the vehicle and our belongings, especially on travel days, when the luggage was visible through the windows of his station wagon. While this cave had about twenty five miles of passageways, the public is only allowed to tour about three miles with an escort. We had to wait about thirty minutes for the guide to arrive, as she was busy escorting a large group of school children. When she finally emerged, she was at first disappointed to see that we were waiting, as she had been hoping for a break, but when she found that we only spoke English she was happy. It turns out that she only speaks Ukrainian, and was losing her voice from all of the tours she had given. Taking three Canadians into the cave meant that she wouldn’t have to talk. We followed her on the trail, bumped our heads a few times, and completed the walk in probably close to record time. The temperature in the cave is always around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, so we enjoyed the hike in the cool environment.

After Borschiv, Alex drove us to Skala-Podolska, which is known for its magnificent castle ruins, dating back to the 16th century. The castle is built on high grounds overlooking the Zbruch River, and boasts a beautiful view of the surrounding river and valley. We were greeted in the middle of the castle ruins by a sheep and her baby lamb, which seem to inhabit the grounds. The mother did not appear thrilled to see us on her territory, and warned us to not get too close to her offspring. There was also a pair of goats grazing on the hillside, but they did not seem to mind our visit.

We continued on to Kamenets-Podolsky, where we checked into the Gala Hotel, a fairly new establishment on a quiet street. After dropping off the suitcases in the rooms, we met Alex at the car, and went to dinner at our first Ukrainian pizza parlour. Alex explained that he knew the owner, and that this business was doing very well, with several branches in Galician Ukraine. As it was late afternoon, and hot and sunny, we decided to take advantage of the weather, and found a table on the outside terrace overlooking the sidewalk. The pizzas were very good with an impressive selection of toppings, some being the usual ones that we are familiar with, and some a little different. Brian and I learned that pepperoni in Ukraine is not a salami-like deli meat, as we are accustomed to, but the name of the hot pepper that appeared on our pizzas. That did not prove to be a problem, as the meal proved to be delicious.

We returned to the hotel, and as on most evenings, Brian and Joel played a little poker, and then the three of us watched a movie on Brian’s laptop computer. We were briefly interrupted by a knock on the door. Three attractive young ladies appeared outside our room giggling. We will never know if they knocked on the wrong door, or were attempting to do some business, but we politely informed them that they had the wrong room.

Sunday, June 5th

This day was going to take us on a day trip to the Luterman family ancestral shtetl of Sokolets, located in the province of Vinnitsia. Most of the Lutermans that we are aware of left Sokolets in the first decade of the 20th century, and settled in Montreal, although at least one branch went to New York. We do have a letter in Yiddish written in the 1930’s to my great grandfather Aharon Luterman in Montreal, which proves that not everyone left the town thirty years earlier. The return address on the envelope clearly states that it was mailed from Sokolets by a Luterman.

While driving in Ukraine up this point of the trip had proven to be rough at times, this was going to be the day to test the suspension on Alex’ car. Sokolets was off the beaten track, and we had to make quite a few turns on some very dusty and bumpy dirt roads before we found ourselves entering the village. While we were travelling all of these small and poorly maintained highways, I found myself wondering how the invading Germans had managed to find every little settlement and miss so little in the process. Later Joel made the same observation.

A few kilometres before reaching Sokolets, we came across a group of about a dozen people walking in the middle of the road. When we got closer, we realized that is was a wedding procession. At the head of the group were the bride and groom, her in an all white wedding gown, and he in a white shirt and dark pants. Both of them were carrying framed pictures of religious icons, and these portraits were draped with striped shawls, that resembled tallits. All of the others in the group were dressed quite formally for the occasion. We stopped the car after passing them, and they allowed up to photograph them as they walked by. Alex explained that it is traditional for the wedding party to walk to the church in such a parade.

A few minutes later, we arrived in the Sokolets area. As he had done in the Grzymalów region, Alex went to work trying to find anyone who might remember our ancestors or anything at all about the long departed Jewish community. We were directed to a building where the mayor’s wife was supposed to be working, and Alex went inside to investigate. We remained outside, and took in the sights. A horse was hitched to a cart and was grazing on the grass, a young boy was drawing water from a well, and several old Ukrainian babushkas were walking on the side of the road. A pair of ducks was resting in the shade beneath a tree, just a few feet from our car. Alex emerged from the building, and told us that the mayor’s wife was not there at the moment, and that we would check again later.

We continued down the road, and Alex got out of the car when he saw a group of older locals. They told Alex that they remembered Jews, but did not know any of their names. While questioning these people, an old white Volga pulled up behind our car, and because our vehicle was blocking the road, the driver was forced to wait for Alex to finish his interview. The driver was patient, and did not seem to be bothered by the wait. Alex completed his interview, and when he realized that they had nothing to offer us, turned to the man in the Volga. To us, this man appeared much too young to have information on anything Jewish, but there was no harm in trying.

This man, whose name is Stefan Pidlopushnyi, turned out to be a wonderful find. Not only did Stefan give us some background on the town, but he informed us that there were two Jewish cemeteries serving the town of Sokolets. We learned that no one currently lived in the location of the old town, because the Soviets had moved everyone to higher ground, to allow them to build a reservoir, and to bring in power lines. Stefan offered to show us where everything had been, but warned us that the roads were in very poor condition, and that it would be best to travel in his car rather than in Alex’ comparatively luxurious Passat. We followed Stefan to his home, and parked Alex’ car in his yard.

Our first stop with Stefan was the site of a former Jewish cemetery. It was slightly off the bumpy dirt road, and we had to walk through a meadow with grass and weeds as tall as we were. We arrived at a clearing, and Stefan showed us two stones that remained from the cemetery. Unfortunately, both were very worn, and there was nothing legible on them. He said that all of the other stones had been removed and used as building material, probably by the Soviets.

Stefan then told us that there were some bunkers nearby that had been used by the Jews either to hide from their persecutors, or to protect their valuables from looters. He said that they dated back to before the war, so Alex assumed that they originated in the pogrom days early in the 20th century. Stefan added that several years ago, some Americans came with metal detectors to see what treasures might be found in these dugouts, but nothing turned up. We walked through the field , and saw several of these bunkers, before continuing on to the next destination.

Having visited the site of the first cemetery a few minutes earlier, and not seeing too much of interest there, I wondered what the second cemetery would look like. I asked Alex to ask Stefan what we would see. Stefan replied by telling us that a few years ago, he was hunting in the region. A wild goat ran into a forest, and Stefan followed him into the brush. After entering the thick growth, Stefan was astonished to find Jewish gravestones that had been protected by the trees for six decades or more. As my maternal grandfather and his parents were born in Sokolets, I got excited at the thought of finding my ancestors’ gravesites.

While the road to this point had been terribly bumpy, Stefan told us that it was going to get worse, and he doubted if his Volga would make it the rest of the way. He stopped the car, and the five of us got out, and continued on foot down the road. Stefan assured us that he had a friend close by with a Lada, and that car would get us the rest of the way. There was a beautiful Orthodox church at the side of the road, and no other homes or buildings anywhere in sight. We were told that the clearing up ahead was where the village of Sokolets was before the Soviets moved everyone out, and that this is where the Jewish homes and businesses were up until the early 1940’s. Sure enough, beside the church, there was a light blue Lada, and Stefan told us that this vehicle would take us the rest of the way.

We now had an additional person. We had started with the three of us and Alex, added Stefan, and now, had another driver, the Lada owner. There was no way that we would all fit in the Lada, so Joel and Brian decided to stay at the church. There were a few Ukrainians outside the church, and Alex introduced Joel and Brian to them. Alex, Stefan, and I left with the Lada driver in his car to visit the second cemetery.

This leg of the trip took an additional ten minutes, and there were times that I thought that the car was going to flip over. The driver drove quite fast for the horrible road that we were traveling, and the car constantly seemed to be at a forty-five degree angle with the driver’s sight much lower than the passenger’s. He may have been driving especially recklessly to give us a bit of a scare. I got a little sense of security from knowing that Alex was sitting on the higher side of the vehicle, and might just be the difference in keeping us from flipping the car. Stefan finally motioned for the driver to pull over, and the car was stopped on the side of the road, overlooking a beautiful valley with a picturesque river running through it in the distance.

We parked the car, and walked through a field for about five minutes, until we came to the entrance of a forest. Stefan pointed to a small opening between the trees, and we walked in. I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was row after row of gravestones, most with very legible Hebrew writing on them, probably numbering between two and three hundred in total. From what I could see, the majority dated from the 1860’s to the 1890’s. Unfortunately, as was the custom of the time, there were no surnames inscribed on the monuments, only the person’s first name, father’s name, and the date of death. We spend about half an hour in the forest, while I took pictures, and marveled at what we had discovered. While I cannot know for certain, it is fairly safe to assume that I was the first Jewish visitor to this cemetery in well over sixty years. The emotions that I felt during this moment were overwhelming, and I left there feeling excited about this impressive discovery. It is very conceivable that some of the stones that I walked past belonged to relatives, and I couldn’t wait to get back to Joel and Brian and tell them what I had seen.

The trip back in the Lada did not seem as dangerous, probably because I was concentrating so much on the cemetery in the forest, and not really paying attention to the drive. We arrived back at the church, and met up with Joel and Brian. They too had had an interesting hour. While they spoke no Ukrainian, and the Ukrainians spoke no English, the two groups had interacted well. Joel and Brian had been given a tour of the church, including a visit upstairs, and helped the Ukrainians hang items on the walls. If I remember correctly, they also assisted in the church’s kitchen. The rest of the hour was spent playing cards in the shady area outside the church.

We thanked the Lada owner, and I gave him 32 Hrivnia (about $8 CDN), which he appreciated, and returned to Stefan’s house in the Lada. Stefan took us behind the house to his plot of land, where he was proud to show us his crops that were starting to grow. Much like farmers at home, he complained about the dry weather, and expressed hope that it would rain before too long. Joel assured him that it would, and sure enough, Joel was good to his word, as it rained the next day. Stefan also had chickens walking around his property, and he has some cows, so although he doesn’t bring in a large income, there is no shortage of food. He told Alex that he works as much as he can around the area doing construction, or any other type of labour when it becomes available, and that he gets by reasonably well. He certainly came across as a proud man, who lives a very happy life. We were offered fresh milk, straight from the cow, which we graciously declined. Stefan did not seem offended. We paid him 40 Hrivnia, and he thanked us for our generosity, and wished us good luck for the balance of our trip. Not only did we have an interesting afternoon with a local, but we got a little insight into how people live in the region.

Alex then drove to the office of the town secretary, and as in Grzymalow, we were told that there were no records in the town hall dating back before 1944. This very full day of touring was just about over, so we backtracked over the awful roads, and eventually made our way back to the Gala Hotel in Kamenets-Podolsky.

Monday, June 6th

After breakfast, we checked out of the Gala and drove the short distance to downtown Kamenets-Podolsky. The city has very unique and striking geography, in that it sits high on cliffs overlooking the Smotrych River. Built on a cliff overlooking the river is the famous fortress dating back to the fourteenth century. We spent about an hour walking through the grounds, touring the remains, and checking out the outstanding views from the tall lookout towers. Beside the fortress, there was a beautiful church, which we toured as well. The church was particularly interesting, because at one point, it had been used as a mosque, and some of the decorations reflected that period in its history. From the heights of the castle, we could see the Cathedral of St. Paul and Peter across the river, especially notable for its minaret, left over from earlier days, topped by a statue of the Madonna, which was erected after the Muslims were banished from the area.

We left K-P and made the short drive to Zhvanets. This town is the home of my 3rd great-grandfather Gershon Goldsman. One of Gershon’s daughters, Leah Malka, married Shloime Luterman, from whom all of the Lutermans that we know are descended. I especially wanted to see Zhvanets because of a project that I have co-sponsored with a colleague from Cambridge, Massachusetts, Marcus Byruck. Marcus and his wife toured the area two years ago with Alex Dunai as their guide. When visiting Zhvanets, which is Marcus’ ancestral shtetl, the mayor of the town told the visitors that there is a Jewish cemetery located just off a road near the outskirts of town. Marcus visited the cemetery, and upon returning to the US, posted a notice in the Ukraine Special Interest Group daily emails, about his discovery. He was looking for people interested in Zhvanets to assist him in undertaking a project to photograph and database the information from the cemetery. As I have ancestry in Zhvanets, as well as experience with our Ottawa cemetery project, I immediately replied, as did several other people. It took us about two years to get everything coordinated for various reasons, and Marcus and I funded the project ourselves. In April of this year, Alex hired workers to clear enough growth to allow the photography to take place, and he took the pictures himself. Shortly afterwards, he send Marcus and I CD’s with about 1400 pictures taken at the cemetery. A large percentage of these stones are quite legible, and Marcus and I are now working on enlisting volunteers to assist us with the translation and databasing of the information.

We parked beside the cemetery, which is located adjacent to a Christian cemetery, and spent some time walking the grounds of the two sections. I took a few photos, but they were unnecessary as I already had Alex’ 1400 pictures on my computer back at home. Alex pointed out that there had been substantial regrowth of vegetation in the two month period since he had last been there. While driving off the grounds, and onto the main road, which runs parallel to the Dniester River, we caught an excellent view of the Khotin castle, which was going to be our next stop.

We left the cemetery, and crossed the Dniester River to the town of Khotin, ending up at the magnificent castle overlooking the river. From the grounds of the castle, there was an excellent view both up and down the river, and it was easy to see why the castle was built on that strategic location. From the lookout towers, we couldn’t quite make out the Zhvanets cemetery on the other side of the river, but could see where it was because we recognized the road that had led us to the cemetery.

We left the castle, and entered Khotin itself. I wanted to see the cemetery there, as Lawrence Tapper in Ottawa had asked me to speak to Alex about doing some photography for him at that cemetery. That project had been started several years ago, but not completed. At the Khotin cemetery, we found the caretaker busy at work, cutting grass by hand in front of a group of stones. He was anxious to talk to us, and after Alex explained that we were Jews visiting from Canada, he began to tell us about all his problems. It seems that there is a group of Israelis who pay for the upkeep of the cemetery by sending cheques to the mayor. The mayor, in turn, is supposed to pay the caretaker’s salary. Either he is not paying him, or he is keeping a large amount for himself. In any case, the gentleman wanted to know if we could contact the Israelis, particularly a Mr. Wasserman, on his behalf to try to fix the problem. When we asked him why he is still working, despite not being paid, he replied that both his father and grandfather were caretakers at the cemetery, and that he must keep up the family tradition. He added that if he were paid more, that the grounds would look much nicer.

The cemetery, despite the groundskeeper’s problems, was in fairly good shape, and one thing that impressed us was the large number of fairly new stones. Obviously, Khotin and the surrounding area still have a Jewish community. These modern stones were very stunning, as many of them had portraits of the deceased engraved into the marble on the monument. I took a few pictures, mostly of stones that had surnames of people in Ottawa that we know.

We left the cemetery, drove for a few minutes through the streets of Zhvanets, and continued on to the Cheremosh Hotel in Chernivtsi, which was going to be our home for the next two nights. From the outside, the Cheremosh looked very impressive. It is a ten or twelve story building with a covered walkway leading into the entrance. Inside, the lobby has extremely high ceilings, but I got the definite impression that this hotel was built under Soviet influence. There is an attempt to make the hotel look appealing to western visitors, as some signs are in English, but it should be noted that while about six people working the desk in the lobby, not one spoke English. Credit cards are not taken, either. There was a sign marked “INTERNET” pointing up the stairs, but when we went to check that out, it turned out to be a hotel office, with one employee working at the computer. To use the internet, we had to pay him to stop working, and then got to use the very slow connection to the internet. As it was approaching 5:00 pm, which was the employee’s quitting time, he motioned to us that we should keep our internet use short, which we did. I don’t remember what we paid, but as was the case each time we used the internet in Ukraine, it was very inexpensive.

Probably the worst part of the Cheremosh experience was the feeling that we were being watched. Each time we entered the building, one or two men in suits would follow us from the entrance to the elevators. While the Soviets are now gone, it felt to us like the KGB was still operating in the building. While there may not be listening devices in the rooms today, they were definitely there in the Soviet days. This may have been the largest hotel we had visited to date, but it was certainly the least friendly.

Tuesday, June 7th

From this point of the trip on, we were not going to visit any towns that were relevant to our genealogical research, but nevertheless, there would still be more interesting things to see. We left the Cheremosh for a day trip, first driving to Horodenka. I had two reasons for wanting to see this town. First, I have a friend and customer, Aleksander Topolski, who lives in the Ottawa area who was born in Horodenka. He is not Jewish, and at the age of 16, when the war broke out in 1939, he was drafted into the army. He and some friends decided to sneak across the border into Romania, and were captured during their attempt by the Russians. He then spent two years under Russian captivity, and wrote a fairly good-selling autobiography called “Without Vodka”. Topolski has a fantastic memory, and presents his story with vivid details. Since I found out about his roots five years ago, we have talked regularly about his and my father’s origins. The second reason for my interest in Horodenka, is that while researching our Diener roots, I have come across several people researching Dieners from Horodenka. There is a man living right here in Ottawa, named Alan Diener, who we see occasionally, whose family came from Horodenka. So far, no one that I know has been able to connect the Horodenka Dieners to our Grzymalow relatives, but since there are only about 80 kms between the two areas, I feel that there probably is a link several generations back,

Most of Horodenka was destroyed during the war, so there was not very much to see in the way of old buildings, but we did go to the Jewish cemetery. What we saw was in pretty good condition, but strangely, most of the graves were female. This leads me to believe that the adjacent field was where the males were buried, and that the stones there had been destroyed. An obviously fairly new fence surrounded the cemetery, and we were told by a neighbour that the mayor had the new fence erected after receiving funds from Horodenkans living in Israel. At the back of the cemetery was a monument denoting the location of a mass gravesite.

We then drove to Kolmya, a pretty town, and walked through the busy downtown market area. There were lots of food items on display, which obviously interested us, being in the meat business ourselves. We saw very nice baked goods, lots of smoked and fresh meats, and Alex stopped and bought some cheeses that the region is known for. On our brief walk, we passed by the Museum of Pysanky, shaped and coloured like an Easter egg. While we didn’t go in, I read after that there are 10,000 painted eggs on display, representing not only the Ukrainian Easter egg, but painted eggs from other cultures, such as India, Pakistan, and Algeria.

Heading out of town, we stopped at a 16th century wooden church, and then briefly at a monument located at the edge of town commemoration the murder of the Kolomya Jewish population during the war.

Upon returning to Chernivtsi, we took a walk through the downtown area, saw the main square and the former Jewish area. One of the former synagogues is now being used as a Jewish community centre. Alex showed us some old buildings being renovated by the city, but as an example of how slowly things happen in Ukraine, added that the scaffolding has been up on the side of the building for over ten years. We then visited the beautiful grounds of the university before visiting the large Jewish cemetery.

This cemetery was different from any that we had seen to date on this trip. First of all, it was large, with stones numbering in the thousands. A group from Ottawa spent a summer in Chernivtsi several years ago, and photographed all of the stones. What really impressed me was the grand chapel at the entrance, which is in poor condition right now, but must have been very beautiful in its time. It is constructed of brick, with high windows just under the domed roof. It is obvious that the interior was ornate, as some sections are still intact, and there are inscriptions in Hebrew and Yiddish on the walls. As well, there are quite a few shrine-like areas throughout the cemetery, where several family members appear to have been buried in consecutive graves, and then covered by a small building. This cemetery has many “current” graves, so there is obviously a reasonably sized Jewish community still in existence in Chernivtsi.

Wednesday, June 8th

Most of this day was going to be spent traveling in the car. One of Alex’ favourite regions in Ukraine is the Transcarpathian Mountain area. Two years ago, when I met Alex at the conference in Washington, his talk was on doing genealogical research in the Transcarpathians. His lecture was well attended, probably not because of the topic, but because of the speaker. When Alex and I planned the itinerary several months before the trip, he suggested the trip to the mountains, even though we do not have roots there.

Fortunately, during the course of our stay in Ukraine, the weather had been perfect. On the days where we were outside walking the streets and fields of Grzymalow, Skalat, and Sokolets, the sun was shining, and the temperature was ideal. Any rain up to this point of the trip fell at night, when it did not impede our touring. The next three days were going to be different, though. While we were never caught in extremely heavy downpours, it drizzled off and on over those days, and the temperature was much cooler. This did not pose a problem, although if we had experienced this weather earlier on, it would have made driving on some of the back roads, especially near Sokolets, very difficult, and probably, impossible.

We left Chernivtsi, and by late morning we arrived in Yaremcha. This town is surrounded by mountain peaks, and is famous for its recreational and health resorts. Many influential Ukrainians, including top level politicians, have homes there, and spend the summer vacationing in the region. We stopped briefly and walked down a paved pathway that led to a bridge over the Prut river rapids. There was a small touristy market set up there, and we browsed the souvenir displays for a few minutes before continuing on.

The Transcarpathian Mountain region reminded me very much of both Vermont’s Green Mountains, as well as the Adirondacks. The main difference was that the roads here were not as well maintained, or as busy as our great North American highways. The scenery, though, was breathtaking, and Alex told us how beautiful it appears in autumn when the leaves change colours. Unfortunately, as impressive as the scenery was, it was a dull day, so we didn’t get the full experience.

About ninety minutes after leaving Yaremcha, we made our second stop of the day. We now found ourselves at the Geographical Centre of Europe. This landmark is very prominently indicated by what looks like a border marker at the side of the road. Joel, Brian, and I posed for a picture standing by the marker, and then spent a few minutes reading the display boards that describe the region, its location, vegetation, and its population and culture.

We continued on, and followed the Tysa River, a major tributary of the Danube, as it formed the border between Ukraine and Moldova. Alex told us that one of the major industries in this region is the smuggling of tobacco and gasoline, and then many people support themselves with this activity, despite the serious consequences of being caught. We thought that it would be an interesting idea to cross the border while we were so close to both Moldova and to Hungary, but Alex reminded us that our Ukrainian visas were only good for entering the country one time. He added that while the river is so narrow in some spots that you could almost walk from across, you must cross at an official border point. Some towns are even divided in two, with a portion being in each of the countries. Once Alex was doing research in one of the border towns, and had to travel several hours to continue his search in the other section of town, because there was no official crossing point nearby.

Our drive continued through the picturesque countryside until late in the afternoon, when we arrived in the town of Khoust. We checked into our hotel, which despite being in such a remote location, and in a small town, was quite acceptable. After bringing our bags to our rooms, we walked to a restaurant a few doors away for dinner. Until this point in the trip, the service everywhere had been excellent, but the waitress here was going to be the exception. While she was standing by the table waiting for our orders, Alex was translating the menu to us, and explaining the dishes. The waitress seemed bored with this, and turned away from us, and began to joke with her friends sitting across the room. Alex became very upset, and told her to go away, and to send another waitress. The other waitress appeared, and everything was fine after that. After the meal, we returned to the hotel for the night.

Thursday, June 9th

After breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant in Khoust, we left for the trip north to Lviv. It seemed like quite a while since we had left the Grand Hotel in Lviv, but it had only been six days. Those six days, however, had been very full, in terms of what we saw and experienced. The trip back took about three hours, and we arrived in Lviv early in the afternoon. It rained during most of the drive, but by the time we got to Lviv, the rain had stopped. For the most part, the highway was very good, and there was a fair bit of construction going on, but of course there were some rough sections of road as well.

We had reserved the Dnister Hotel for our final two nights in Ukraine, as the Grand was fully booked. The advantage of the Grand was that it was on the main street of Lviv, and was close to many of the restaurants and shops. The Dnister, although downtown, was a few blocks from the action, on the opposite side of a large park. While not as centrally located, this was the first hotel that we stayed in on our trip that resembled a good North American hotel. The lobby was modern and efficient, the elevators were fast, and the rooms opened with keycards, rather than keys. Even the staff all spoke English. There was a currency exchange counter open in the lobby, and the restaurant menu looked quite acceptable. There are plaques hanging showing the awards the hotel has won, and they take great pride in telling the world that Hillary Clinton enjoyed her stay there. While we didn’t have any major problems in any of the hotels we had stayed in previously, it was refreshing to be ending the trip in something a little more modern.

Alex took us on a mini tour of Lviv to see some of the sights that we hadn’t visited the week before, and we ended up at an internet café close to the Dnister. Our plans for the evening were to go back to the Kupol Restaurant, where we had dined twice the week before, As it was Friday night, Alex suggested that we stop in the afternoon to make a reservation. When he went in to ask, he found that the restaurant was booked that evening for a party, and that we would not be able to go. He told us of some other restaurants that we might want to try, and offered to come back at dinner time to drive us. As he hadn’t been home for about a week, we declined his proposal, and told him not to worry about us. While he appreciated the night off with his family, he seemed to feel guilty that we were not taking advantage of his services. Our feeling was that he had done so much for us, that we didn’t think that it was right for him to have to come back to drive us for dinner. As it was, when dinner time came, it started to rain heavily, so we decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. We were not disappointed with our choice. The food and service were quite good, and once again, we ate more than we should have.

Friday, June 10th

This was going to be our final full day in Ukraine. Our great adventure was winding down. There wasn’t much to do other than shop for the mandatory souvenirs or “chachkas” as Alex liked to call them. We made our way to the outdoor market and searched out the pretty blonde who we had met a week earlier, on our first visit to Lviv. Unfortunately, it was raining, so the market vendors were a little late setting up their displays. We left the market, and walked through the downtown area, visiting a few shops.

We returned to the market, and found our blonde friend. A week earlier, we had given her a Canada-Ukraine flag pin, so she remembered us. We struck a deal with her, and purchased about 15 of the Russian style matryoshka dolls. These are the famous nested dolls with one large doll opening up revealing a smaller doll, which in turn opens up to an even smaller doll, etc. The ones that were on display contained five dolls in total. These would turn out to be good gifts for staff members back home, who were looking after the stores in our absence. We also purchased a couple of Russian army hats with the Red Army pins on the front. Brian, who collects t-shirts from around the world, bought one with a picture of Viktor Yushchenko displayed in the middle of the Ukrainian map. The caption on the shirt is written in Ukrainian, and translates as “You can’t stop the freedom”. This is the slogan that was made famous during last year’s Orange Revolution, which brought Yushchenko to power. Of course the map of Ukraine on the shirt is painted orange.

While Alex was happy to take us shopping, he said that even though it was our final full day in Lviv, he would still be willing to take us on a trip outside the city if there was anywhere that we wanted to go. We declined, and told him that he should enjoy the easy day. He had already done so much for us to make this a very memorable trip. His answer to that was to offer to take us to one of his favourite restaurants for dessert and coffee. We were happy to accept, and ended up at Veronika Café, which was one of the restaurants that he had recommended a week earlier, but that we hadn’t yet visited. Alex pointed out that Veronika is famous for its fabulous pastries, and after checking out the menu, we were thoroughly impressed with the great selection of very appetizing treats. We sat outside enjoying our delicious desserts and hot beverages, and watched the shoppers pass by as we ate. It felt very much like we were sitting at a sidewalk café in Paris.

After this afternoon snack, we continued on our walk in the downtown area, and ended up at the beautiful Lviv Opera House, which is situated at the end of a long pedestrian square in the middle of a busy boulevard. We paid the admission charge, and spent a few minutes walking through the building admiring this very impressive building with its gold decorations, stunning chandeliers, its beautiful balconies, elaborate carvings on the walls, and fine-looking frescos on the walls and ceilings. Alex told us that Lviv citizens are very proud of their Opera House, and for good reason. The outside of the building was stunning as well, and appeared to be in excellent condition.

While walking in the large city square, we actually met up with Alex’ wife Natalie, and their son Andre, who came over to greet us. They were with some visiting cousins, who like us were enjoying the sights. While the morning had been rainy and cool, the weather had changed, and it was now very sunny and quite pleasant.

We returned to the Dnister, intending to venture out for supper a little later, but being tired, and having been satisfied with the hotel food the previous night, decided to stay in again.

Saturday, June 11th

After the breakfast buffet at the hotel, Alex met us for our last morning in Ukraine. There wasn’t anything substantial left on the itinerary, so we drove the few blocks to the main square area in Lviv for our last walk. After all, we had to say goodbye to the souvenir vendor in the market, whom we had gotten to know over the last few days. We killed the morning by visiting the market, and walking the now familiar streets. We entered several shops, and in one bookstore, Joel eyed a poster on the wall advertising a Paul Macartney concert, and mentioned to Alex that it would make a great souvenir. Alex asked the clerk if we could have it, and she agreed to let us take it down. This was the second time that this happened. Two days earlier, while in the Lviv internet café, Brian noticed a poster in Ukrainian advertising the new Star Wars film, and Alex had managed to obtain that one as well.

While Alex made a great impression on us, he obviously felt very comfortable with us. Towards the end of the morning, he announced that once again, he wanted to take us for lunch at the Veronika Café, provided that he could get parking within sight of the restaurant. He worried that since we had checked out of the hotel, all of our luggage was visible in the rear of the station wagon, and would be an open invitation for thieves. There was no parking available at Veronika, so we crossed the street, and parked in front of a small café, where we had some excellent strudel and coffee, before taking the drive to the airport.

On the way to the airport, Alex asked if he could buy us each something from Ukraine, and went we said yes, he pulled over the car, and ran into a store. He returned a couple of minutes later with three 500 ml. bottles of Nemiroff Rye Honey Vodka, one for each of us, and told us again how much he enjoyed spending time with us. It was the final generous gesture from this wonderful man whom we had met only twelve days earlier, but looking back, those twelve days had been eye-opening, fun, emotional, and educational.

As we entered the grounds of the airport, we told Alex that he could drop us off, and that it was not necessary to stay. He replied that he would park, and remain with us until we passed security. We were his responsibility and there was no arguing with him on that matter.

The airport was an experience. Remember that Lviv’s population is about 800,000, something like Ottawa’s. While our city has a large airport with many check-in counters, and multiple levels, numerous shops and services, Lviv’s is a fraction of the size. The main area of the terminal is a small room that resembles a village train station, with one gate on the left wall, and another on the right. For our flight to Warsaw, which appeared to be the only flight leaving in the next couple of hours, we would be passing through the left gate. Ukrainians do not seem to understand the concept of lining up, as everyone was converging on the gate from every conceivable direction and angle. It was chaotic, and we quickly learned that as soon as there was a gap ahead of you, it was necessary to move, as someone else would take the chance to cut in front if allowed.

We received a lot of stares from the Ukrainians, and I soon realized that it was probably because of our “modern luggage”. We had the very ordinary type of suitcases with the retractable handles, and wheels, that everyone in North America and Western Europe uses, but apparently our type of baggage hasn’t yet caught on in Eastern Europe. All of the locals were carrying the old type of suitcase that we hadn’t used in several decades. We must have been thought of as very wealthy, and I suppose that in comparison to these people, we are.

Eventually, we made it to the counter and passed through the door to the security and customs department. We went through the mandatory questioning, all the while carrying our luggage and finally placing it in a corner, where some workers manually took it away. There were no conveyor belts anywhere.

We passed through the next door, and found ourselves in the waiting room where we would sit until it was time to board. We could see the Lot Airlines plane through the window, and thought that when we would be boarding, we would walk down the tarmac to the aircraft. It appeared to be about a minute’s walk away, and the day was mild and sunny, so the short walk wouldn’t pose a problem.

We each took our turns using the washroom, and Joel noticed that in the washroom there was an open window leading out to the street. Here we had just gone through airport security, and anyone on the main road outside the terminal could climb into this first floor window, and bypass the so-called security. This was another prime example of Soviet style inefficiency.

When boarding time came, as I mentioned before, I assumed that we would walk the short distance, but that was not to be. An old, dilapidated, bus pulled up at the door, and we were instructed to enter. It took about five minutes to get everyone in, and it was extremely crowded. As the group filled this bus, it tilted badly to one side, but finally the driver was satisfied that everyone was on, and began the very short journey to the plane. Because there was so much weight on one side of this broken down bus, the bottom rubbed against the pavement as we drove to the aircraft, and on three occasions, the driver exited the bus to check if everything was okay. It took us about ten minutes from the time we started boarding the bus, until we got off planeside, which was about nine minutes more than if we had walked.

The short flight to Warsaw was uneventful, except for the surprise that we received by being seated in first class, and being given a very good meal, which included sushi. We arrived in Warsaw, and obviously most of the Ukrainians on our very full flight were connecting to other flights, as only the three of us, and one couple went to the carousel to pick up luggage, which took almost an hour to arrive.

I had booked the Marriott in Warsaw for the final night of our trip, only because Expedia offered it at a very good rate. This would be the only night that the three of us would share a room. We arrived at the hotel, and found it to be a very fancy place, and immediately noticed that every woman walking in the lobby was gorgeous. It turned out that there was an international models’ convention going on, which explained the number of beauties.

After settling in, we took a taxi to Old Town. This is a very touristy area of Warsaw with many boutiques and restaurants, and a large square where musicians were playing on a central stage. Warsaw had been pretty much destroyed during World War II, so what looked like old buildings were build after the war, and made to look like they were from an earlier period. There were many churches and cathedrals in the area, and since it was a late Saturday afternoon in June, there seemed to be a wedding in every church. Tourists were entering the buildings, and watched the weddings from the back of the room, so we did the same, and watched a bit of one ceremony in the beautiful cathedral.

We walked down a few of the side streets in Old Town, and looked at the stands set up by the outdoor artisans. Many of them were selling Jewish-themed pictures and sculptures, some of them portraying the subjects of their art in very stereotypical ways with oversized noses, and Hassidic apparel. We did not feel the urge to buy any of these items. Instead, we visited a very nice amber store, where we purchased several items for the female family members back home.

Rather than eat in the over-priced restaurants of Old Town, we decided to walk back to the hotel, which was about two miles away, and eat somewhere along the route. We were not disappointed with the restaurant that we stopped at, and had a very good meal, which was well served by a young waitress. We noticed during the meal that the female owner-manager was very aware of everything going on in the restaurant, and that it she ran a good operation. She proved this to us, by coming over at the end of our meal, and providing each of us with a liqueur. It was a nice touch, which made the experience even more enjoyable.

We walked back to the Marriott, stopping to visit a supermarket along the way. I returned to the room, while Brian and Joel escaped to the lobby for a little while.

Sunday, June 12th

The end of the trip had finally come, but we still had a little bit of sightseeing to do. We had an early breakfast in the Marriott, which offered a tremendous buffet, which compared favourably with anything here in North America. The variety and quality of the foods was excellent.

Before leaving Canada, I had booked a morning tour of Jewish sights in Warsaw. It was advertised as a three hour tour, and since we had an afternoon flight, I had requested that our tour start around 8:00 am. By email, I had been told that our tour guide would meet us in the lobby, and the tour would leave from our hotel. Sure enough, I found the guide holding a sign with my name on it at booked time. She informed me in a very professional manner that she would be our guide, and that the car and driver were outside. I thought that it was strange that she didn’t even offer to tell us her first name. Joel took an immediate dislike to her, and didn’t say much to her all morning.

The first stop on this tour was the sight of the famous Warsaw ghetto, which now is a residential area comprised of many identical Soviet build low rise apartment buildings. Almost nothing of the ghetto survived the war. On the sight of this famous area, which housed almost 500,000 Jews at one time, the only signs of the ghetto are the numerous monuments through the quarter, and two very small sections of the wall, that somehow escaped destruction. As part of our Jewish education, we had learned about the Warsaw ghetto, and the famous uprising, but never really thought about how large an area it encompassed. We heard our guide rattle off all the facts and figures, such as the ghetto covering seven square kilometers, and that 100,000 people died on the streets from hunger, and most of the rest being taken away to their deaths by train to the Treblinka death camp. We saw the numerous monuments constructed to remember the community that was destroyed, and the fighters that rose up against their captors. We saw the famous streets of Zamenhofa and Mila, which were so important during the uprising. We went to the impressive stone monument at the sight of the Umshlagplatz, which was where the Jews were loaded on the Treblinka-bound trains.

Our next stops, but still within the borders of the former ghetto, were the two remaining sections of the wall. The guide explained to us that one of them had remained undiscovered until very recently, when some demolition to allow new construction had uncovered it.

This very small section of wall has two bricks missing from it, and a plaque replacing the bricks, stating that they were moved to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC, where they remain on display.

At the second wall section, we were told that the man who lives next to the wall has taken it upon himself to keep the area clean, and to plant flowers along the wall to beautify the surroundings. While we were there, he emerged from his house and showed us his large scrapbook, which contained page after page of newspaper articles, letters, and photos that document the work that he has done to maintain the wall section. He took great pride in showing us pictures of him taken with heads of governments, and asked us to write a few words in his book, which I did. While he is providing a worthwhile service, it seemed to all of us that he loves the attention that it has brought him.

We walked a little more through the former ghetto area, and saw some of the streets where Jewish businesses once thrived, and saw a children’s hospital, which existed as a Jewish children’s hospital before the war.

Our next stop was the Nozyk synagogue, built between 1898 and 1902, the only remaining synagogue in the city. There must have been dozens of synagogues before the war to serve such a large Jewish population. The Germans made a point of destroying every one except this one, because they had better plans for it. They used it as a stable for their horses. The building did receive some damage during the war, and around 1980 was restored. A very small Jewish community still uses the building; in fact there was a group of about a dozen men praying in the shul while we were there. We were happy to pay the admission charge to see this building. We watched the congregants for a few minutes while the tour guide attempted to get our attention to try to hurry us out of the synagogue to go to our next stop, but we pretended that we didn’t notice her motioning at us from the women’s section, and came out when we were ready.

We then drove to the massive Warsaw Jewish cemetery, which has 250,000 graves. Once again, we certainly didn’t mind paying the admission charge, which goes to the upkeep of the property. It was very strange being in a cemetery with so many Jewish occupants in a city that now has virtually no Jewish residents. The guide showed us a few graves of prominent people, and we saw the monument to the one million Polish children killed during the Holocaust. She then left us to walk the grounds on our own, which we did for a few minutes.

The first few rows of the cemetery were well maintained, but as we walked deeper and deeper, it became darker and darker with all of the overgrown vegetation taking over. As we proceeded to the back of the cemetery, the mosquito activity increased in proportion to the thickness of the brush and trees, so we made our way back to the entrance, where we met up with the guide and driver.

We returned to the Marriott, and on the way noted the many skyscrapers in the Warsaw skyline. The guide told us that when the Soviets were in control, they build the famous seventy story cultural palace, and decreed that no other tall buildings be built to take away from the view of their building. When the Iron Curtain came down, the Polish people began to build skyscrapers as an act of defiance. The Marriott is one of the more prominent buildings, and we were fortunate to have a very impressive view from our room.

After being dropped off, we checked out, and said farewell to Brian, who was staying in Europe for one more week before returning to Canada. He was to go on to Prague and Paris. Joel and I took a taxi to the airport, retrieved Brian’s huge duffle bag that we had stored the previous day, and waited for our flight to Toronto on Lot Airlines.

We arrived in Toronto at about 8:00 pm, on one of the hottest nights of the year, and continued on to Ottawa meeting Dayra at the airport after 11:00 pm.

Conclusion

This two week adventure turned into the trip of a lifetime. I went into it hoping for a great experience, but had no way of knowing what we would see. Walking on the same streets as one’s ancestors is emotional and humbling. We had hoped that Alex Dunai would be able to show us things that we would not be able to see without a guide, and were not disappointed by his knowledge and his personality.

I returned to Canada with an increased appreciation of what hardships our ancestors had to endure, and a renewed desire to continue my research and to discover more about my family.
 

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Last updated 11/07/09 by ELR
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