I had a vague notion that the Press Fellowship would allow me to reconnect with the life and knowledge I once had and find some common ground in writing.
Which was why some 30 years after I had walked away from my drawing board I was here in an ancient Jewish cemetery trying to understand why, when we have a surfeit of book, theatre, TV and movie critics in the mainstream New Zealand media, there are no architecture critics.
The Remuh cemetery in the Kazimierz district of Krakow was lined with rows of worn sandstone tombstones inscribed in Hebrew.
Today, only a few mouldering buildings remain, but the vast orderly grid of barracks is still visible in the rows of crumbling brick chimneystacks, forlorn in the long grass.
The retreating Nazis in 1945 destroyed much of the camp.