Went for a jog on Saturday. It was the first boost of physical activity since morbid flu recovery. A warm sunny day, lungs conking out at about 1km. Not fit. Yet. The place of choice for a quiet jog? My local concentration camp! The rolling green clearing down the road from my place is now a reserve and memorial park for what was once the Plaszow concentration camp for the Krakow ghetto Jews (it was a holding depot for the prisoners awaiting transport to Birkenau and the like). There is a monument erected and buses drop off Israeli school kids coming to light a candle. But there are also park benches, mums with prams, dogs being walked and young boys kicking the soccer ball around. At first I was a bit thrown as to the use being made of this public space, expecting people to walk around with bowed heads and in silence. But now I think the recreational option is more preferable. E.g. ball falls out of bounds, you must retrieve it out of the still existent yet rusty barbed wire fence and you think – shit all those poor people back in WWII. See, footy and history lesson! And it’s better than catching the train to Auschwitz with fat loud tourists. Or watching The Pianist.