The drive from Auschwitz was somber for quite a while. But after some time, Mike made great efforts to put it behind us. He played upbeat music and talked to us about our next stop in Czestochowa, site of the 15th Century Paulite monastery at Jasna Gora and home to the famous portrait, the 'Black Madonna'. Czestochowa is revered by many Roman Catholics as the holiest city in Poland.
But, I wasn't able to shake the feeling of Auschwitz quickly or easily.
The church was packed with people, whether they were there to merely see the Black Madonna or Pilgrims who walked there to pray to her or walk on their knees before her. The inside of the church was magnificent. I could not get close to the portrait at all because of all the worshipers or photo-snapping tourists. The jam-packed crowds made me uncomfortable so I didn't spend much time there. The photo here is actually a copy of the original that hung in the cafeteria. According to legend, this particular Black Madonna was painted by St. Luke the Evangelist on a cypress table top from the house of the Holy Family.
Another legend is that the presence of the holy painting saved its church from being destroyed in a fire, but not before the flames darkened the flesh tone pigments.
The legend concerning the two scars on the Black Madonna’s right cheek is that a Hussite robber drew his sword upon the image and inflicted two deep strikes.
When the robber tried to inflict a third strike, he fell to the ground and squirmed in agony until his death. Despite past attempts to repair these scars, they had always reappeared. Another legend states that as the robber struck the painting twice, the face of the virgin Mary started to bleed. In a panic the scared Hussites retreated and left the painting.
There were several places to eat on the church grounds and it was all something like fast food cafeteria type food. We stood in line with a tray and pointed to the mystery meat and veggies. It didn't matter. We hadn't eaten since we left Krakow so any sustenance would do. I still couldn't shake the feeling I brought from Auschwitz. I had a hard time communicating or even listening to others' conversations. I still felt awkward to smile or laugh. My heart was heavy and I felt like being alone.
After an hour, we boarded the bus and continued north to Warsaw, the rebuilt capital of Poland. Mike played Jeff Foxworthy stand-up for hours. I finally laughed hard enough and long enough to at least feel normal again. It was evening by the time we arrived at our hotel. There was little time between arriving and dinner. I almost decided not to go out in town. I felt terribly exhausted and wanted some quiet time. But I couldn't miss out on a night in Warsaw, so I sucked it up and followed Mike and the posse to an outdoor beer stand. Not really a bar, but since so many of us showed up, the keg ran out of beer. So after a beer, we all retreated back toward the hotel. About 12 of us stopped at a bar on the way back and had some beers on the outdoor terrace. Eventually it started to rain so those of us remaining, huddled on the benches beneath the concrete overhang. They closed pretty early...midnight maybe...and we all wandered out to the open night in the rain. It was a cold and wet walk that three of us (Mike, Alfredo and me) made back to the hotel. What a long, long day.
And it didn't even end there. I proceeded to call mom and sob to her about my experience at Auschwitz.
