First to Królewska Katedra na Wawelu, the Wawel Royal Cathedral of St. Stanislaus and St. Wenceslaus, then to the Cathedral Museum, past many, many bits and pieces of creepy Pope John Paul II, out and around the corner to the Muzeum Archeologiczne w Krakowie, through that quickly and perfunctorily, last one to leave early-afternoon (Monday museums!), east and south through Kazimierz, across the river, into Podgórze, through the park again, around the church again, across the bridge over road and rail, into calf-deep snow, up the hill to Kopiec Krakusa, around and around that and up to the exposed top where a slight wind picked up, like being on a mountain. Photos. On the opposite side to the city, in an unremarkable patch of land, nothing spectacular, no skyline of churches, no chimneys of Ciepłownicza power plant, no quarry with rusting lime kilns, that on the fourth side, that empty snow before the line of poplars reaching up, after the black line at the edge of cemetery, that’s the concentration camp Płaszów. That quarry also. It’s more photogenic with scarps, flat, white cones of kiln roofs and the vertical thrusting fingers of the kilns themselves. The lines of electric fences and other scraps are rather Schindler’s List’s than Nazi. I look to that rather than the bland field of scrub to the left.