Eastern Europe

In February 1940, the Nazis established Europe's largest Jewish ghetto in Lódz. In order to confine the city's 230,000 Jews to the 4.3 sq. km area, the Nazis drove out non-Jewish residents with warnings of infectious diseases, then ordered all of the city's Jews into the cramped district, and after surrounding the area with a wall, announced that the ghetto was "closed."

After the Nazis proclaimed that residents of the ghetto must work in exchange for their meager rations of food, the overcrowded ghetto became a massive textile factory: young girls even hand-stitched the emblems on Nazi officers' uniforms. Conditions worsened when 20,000 more Jews and 5000 Gypsies joined the original internees. In 1942, deportations of the infirm and children began. Until 1944, though, Lódz managed to escape the total liquidation that had been the fate of other ghettos.

With the approach of the Red Army in August 1944, Heinrich Himmler deported the ghetto's 70,000 remaining residents to Auschwitz and Majdanek, sparing only 800 Jews who stayed back as a cleaning crew. As the Russians were about to capture Lódz, the Nazis resolved to execute these also. Fortunately, the Russians' swift advance interrupted their plans, saving all 800 Jews. Of those deported, 20,000 survived—the highest number of survivors of any European ghetto.

In and around Prague, you will find churches of stone, brick, iron, glass… and bones. Kutná Hora, a picturesque village one hour from Prague, is both famous and infamous for its ossuary, a chapel filled with artistic and religious creations made entirely from parts of the human skeleton.

Originally founded around silver mines, the town boomed until the Black Death halted fortune seekers dead in their tracks. The Cistercian Order built a chapel to house the extra corpses from the overflowing cemetery, and in a fit of whimsy (or possibly insanity), one monk began designing flowers from pelvises and crania. He never completed the ossuary, but in 1870, artist František Rint did, adorning the chapel with the remains of over 40,000 people.

Today, tourists admire the chandelier, comprised of every bone imaginable, and suspended from the ceiling by jawplates. While some marvel at the skeletal crest of arms, others find the chapel macabre and disrespectful of the dead. Though the town's residents are similarly divided in their opinion of their claim to fame, make the decision for yourself. If you are in the area, Kutná Hora is a must-see.

Hourly trains run from Hlavni Nadrazi (1hr., round-trip 112Kc). Open daily Apr.-Sept. 8am-6pm; Oct. 9am-noon and 1-5pm; Nov.-Mar. 9am-noon and 1-4pm. 35Kc, students 20Kc).

In my defense, I had no idea it was a brothel when I walked in...or when I left for that matter. I had set off in search of a good bar or club and just happened to wander into one that looked promising, complete with beaded lanterns and silk wall-hangings. Notebook in hand, I marched up to the bar to check out a drink menu...and then I realized that every single woman and the one man in the bar were staring in my direction. I'm not talking curious, friendly, "Ah, a new face," stares; I'm talking down-right hostile "What are you doing here" stares. An eerie silence filled the bar; not a soul was talking.

Now, granted, my jeans and fleece weren't exactly night-life material, and it had been awhile since I'd gotten around to doing laundry, but really....At any rate, the drinks were exorbitantly expensive and the incredibly weird vibe exuded by the whole place was creeping me out, so I decided it was about time to high-tail it out of there. I more or less forgot about the incident until I passed by the bar the next day. Still a little confused by the whole thing, I stopped in front of the building to read the words painted on the window, circling the silhouette of a woman: "Music, drinks, and pleasure." Hmm...I guess it would've helped if I had read that first.