Th ePoles have a wonderful way with their living museums. The Museum of the Warsaw Uprising in Warsaw is as harrowing as Auschwitz or the Katyn Museum. Established on the site of Oscar Schindler's factory the Museum charts and in places recreates the events surrounding the Nazi invasion of Krakow and the establishment of the ghetto there. Darkness, wailing sirens, voices, film footage, recreated streets and train carriages the whole effect is one of claustrophobia and mounting terror. Ample interpretation in both Polish and English the staff ensure that the visitor's journey is intimate and leisurely paced. Near the end of the tour one has to navigate through a replicated ghetto street, in darkness, where the walls , shaped by the Nazi into tombstones, loom and press onto one's psyche and spirit. Even the floor, uneven and soft reminds us how the ground was taken from under them, where one's sense of a place on the Earth is no longer solid. It is tentative, unstable, its reality an illusion. The ground beneath one's feet is not solid. History moves on, it is fluid; our morality is fluid; nothing can be trusted. We are not to be trusted.
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