"Arbeit Macht Frei"

Alright, I think I've put off this blog post about as long as I can. It's time to sink my teeth in and just write. It's certainly not a pleasant topic, but many of you, my friends and family will never get to see the things I saw last Saturday. That was the day I visited Dachau.

"Arbeit Macht Frei," : Work will set you free. These are the words etched into the gate as you first enter the compound. (Interestingly enough, most of my pictures didn't turn out due to over exposure, but I hope I have enough to give you an idea of what it looks like today).

There are several impressions you get upon first entering the camp. My initial reaction was complete breathlessness, (which I found interesting as I'm not generally an emotional person. I hadn't expected much of a reaction at all). The center square is absolutely massive stretching far into the distance only to be punctuated with a guard tower directly across from your line of sight. On Saturday the square was barren. It is filled today with white gravel that matches the sterile buildings that square it off on all sides. One can hardly imagine such a place filled with people, living skeletons dressed in rags as they stood in this, the Roll Call Square for hours on end.

The second impression, we all noted with a little unease was that the grounds were beautiful. Between the rows and rows of bunkhouses there is a center walkway, a mall if you will, lined on either side with tall cypress trees brilliance with green in the midst of the monotone colors of the camp. At first you would think, "but surely nothing like that would be original to the time," but it is. They were part of the propaganda of what the camps were "designed" to be at the start. As questions began to be raised by institutes such as the Red Cross, the Nazi's simply invited them to come have a look for themselves. The camp was then cleared of the most dangerous looking "offenders" (i.e. Communists at this time) and the cleanliness combined with greenery added a nice, hospitable effect. "My there are being well cared for!"

Dachau was the first of the camps to be opened in March 1933. At its opening, Hitler had been in power as Reich Chancellor for a little less than two months. However, after the notorious Reichstag fire (see post from June 28) Hitler found himself granted with temporary Enabling Rights (the temporary part would soon fall away). With this power he turned with full force against his political opponents. Soon the German Parliament belonged to one party, the Nazi party. Non Nazi newspapers were being harassed into shutting down and everyone not of the Nazi party was seen as an enemy of the state. The enemy must disappear.

The press release for the opening of the camp:
'All Communists and—where necessary— Reichsbanner and Social Democratic functionaries who endanger state security are to be concentrated here, as in the long run it is not possible to keep individual functionaries in the state prisons without overburdening these prisons, and on the other hand these people cannot be released because attempts have shown that they persist in their efforts to agitate and organise as soon as they are released.'

Inmates are said to lose three things upon arrival at Dachau, their possessions, their rights, and their dignity, and they were reminded of these losses time and time again. The first night in the barracks, laying across bunks covered with straw mattresses was the coldest of all. How many lay in their beds staring at the little strip of wood over their heads: a shelf, installed to remind them only that they had nothing to put on it. Did they then remember the treasures stowed away in their bags? Pictures of family, money, clothes. What? Loss of possession shouldn't mean much, you say? Let us move on to rights: the right of self. Identity was stripped, names torn away from their owners, ancestors and families negated in the power of a simple number, a number that became the only distinguishing factor from prisoner to prisoner. Further the inmate spirals into a world where no one knows they exist, no one cares except himself. Loss of dignity came at the edge of a razor blaze, rusted and chinked sheering hair from the prisoner's body upon arrival. The truth is (and I can attest to this one) one can never feel more naked, more vulnerable than when he has no hair.



This is the real Dachau...








But the history becomes much more darker. It becomes increasingly difficult to flip through the pictures or watch the video screen, but this is the most important part of it all.

This is the real Dachau...

I thought a long time about whether or not to include my pictures, and ultimately decided I would do more damage denying them to you. This is the real Dachau, 12 years and 31,000 dead. Don't turn your back.


This is the real Dachau...

This is the real Dachau...

"Den Toten Zur Ehr Den Lebenden Zur Manhung"

"To remember the dead, we must warn the living."

Gone Camping....

In forty years my grandkids are going to ask me to tell the story about how I went to Munich, Germany and slept on the floor of a circus tent. I'll have a tale to tell then.

Welcome to The Tent...
We heard about this place from some guys in our program that were in Munich a few weeks before. "So, there's this park in downtown Munich, it's called The Tent, and like 200 people come and spend the night there. You should try it out," they said. After a quick glance among everyone else who would be traveling with me next week, I consulted my travel guide which said the same thing, "join 250 international 'campers' under a gigantic tent in a series of bunk beds or on the wood floor." Oh yea, we were definitely going to have to try this out.

Fun fact about me #1, I've been camping twice in my life at Lake Forest Ranch when I was in the 5th and 6th grade. Camp was only for a week, I had a bed, lots of pillows, and air conditioning. The only other camping experience I had was when I went rock climbing with my youth group in the 7th grade, I think I cried the entire first night (this should be new information for everyone who was on that trip with me btw) and by night number 2 I'd vowed never to go on another outdoor adventure again (I was down to plotting a sabotage of the trip by night 3). Yet, I thought sleeping on the wood floor of a tent was a good idea. Well, it was.

The showers/drying towels

The cafeteria/ eating area

This wasn't just a rinky dink little campsite. It had 24 hour reception, cafeteria that served breakfast and dinner, kitchen, laundry, guy and girl showers (with hot water!!!) and a separate sight for campers who brought their own tent. The place was packed with people from all sorts of places. On our last night in Munich we all crowded into the cafeteria to watch the US v Ghana match on a big screen (I was disappointed to find out that everyone from England and Australia was cheering for Ghana! What's up with that?) I met a two girls from England and a Chinese girl studying in Hanover. I had a brief conversation with some guys from Mexico, another guy from California, and, of course, the guy wandering around with the American flag tied around his neck as another Texan. I think this experience is the closest I'll ever get to Woodstock... without the drugs... but possibly with more beer (I mentioned this was in Germany, right? Geez) Point is, this seems to be the place to go if you interested in other people and their stories. Sleeping, however, was a different matter.

When we first checked in it was 11:00 at night, we were cold and tired and didn't much care where we would sleep at that point. The man at the desk gave us a foam pad (the rainbow colored thing) and 4 wool blankets, "come back if you get cold" he told us. I thought I was going to be hot. Here's the part of the story when I tell you that I looked like the city girl come stay in the country when I was unpacking. I had preplanned, coverall all my basis. Really, it's what I do. So I'd also thought to bring my Dreamie (a satin sleeping bag type thing) and not one but 2 pillows. (What can I say I'm spoiled) Anyway, fast forward to two in the morning and me shivering in my dreaming with three blankets piled on top of me. Feet are frozen and fingers are numb. I could have gone and gotten some more blankets but I didn't really feel like getting out in the cold. Finally, I got smart. I climbed out of my Dreamie, wrapped the softest blanket I had around me, then got back into my little caccoon and pulled the blankets up. I survived the night.
By the end of our stay, I'd tamed the cold so much so, that I was sleeping really well. (not sure I ever enjoyed sleeping on the floor before, but it was good) I ended up sleeping in my sleeping clothes, socks, jacket (with a hood for my ears), the soft blanket around me, inside my Dreamie and four more blankets on top of that.

Needless to say my little caccoon was nice and warm and I didn't want to have to leave for Maastricht. But alas, books need to be read, classes attended, and papers written.
Until tomorrow!

"Ich bin ein Berliner!"- JFK

After some great deliberation on how to write this weekend's blog post, I think I finally settled on the only way I can think to tell you everything about the weekend (yes, it was that amazing of a weekend). I'm going to break it down into several smaller posts. Then, I'll feel free to talk as much as I like!

I LOVE BERLIN!

You can imagine how surprised I was, especially after I planned to be in the city less than twelve hours on Thursday. I'd heard good things about the city from the other students who'd travelled before me, but the consensual favorite was Munich. With that in mind, I simply planned to take a walking tour around the city and be off to Bavaria. My how we can surprise ourselves.

Berlin is a city saturated with history, an imperial history, a dark history, a young history, a history of pain and perseverance. In the three hours I walked around the city, I learned more about her existence than I thought I'd ever know. I have seen sights dripping with a past, a story. I think everyone needs to know these stories.


Brandenburg Gate was built in the late 1600s as an entrance into the city. She was originally decorated with the goddess of Peace, who drove her chariot into the city with a wreath made of olive leaves held high over her head. After Prussia's fall to Napoleon's army, the statue was confiscated by The Emperor for his personal art collection. The Prussians took the sculpture back and in the process renamed her Victoria, the goddess of victory. They then changed the name of the square over which to presides to "Pariser Platz," or "Paris Plaza" so there would forever be victory over Paris.

But then again, she has another history as well...

It's strange to stand in a place you've seen a photograph of over and over again and have it look completely different and yet very much the same. It's even more strange when that place is so beautiful was it is today.

The Reichstag was (and still is today) the German Parliamentary building. It is an absolutely looming building that was rebuilt as the capital for the German government in 1999, seriously, folks when I'm saying Berlin is a young city, I'm not joking. After everything she has been through in the past 100 years she's like a newborn trying to stretch her legs for the first time. Today the German lawmakers do their work inside the building directly below the glass dome (you can see a little in the picture). Visitors to Berlin are actually permitted to walk around in that dome and to look down into the legislative sessions. It's said the dome was constructed so that if the lawmakers forgot who they were working for all they had to do was look up
(millions of tourists!).

The Reichstag holds another important key to German government (I didn't say this "important" was a good one). In 1933, a few months after Adolf Hitler was selected Chancellor of Germany, the Reichstag, the German symbol of democracy was set on fire. The Nazi's arrested Marinus van der Lubbe, Van der Lubbe was a Dutchman and, more importantly, Communist. In a country already unstable from the transition from imperial to democratic rule, and having already seen the mess of Russian politics, many Germans were terrified by the Communist party. This, Hitler manipulated to his advantage. Claiming Van der Lubbe was part of a conspiracy by the Communists to attack the German government and eventually gain control, Hitler convinced the then President Hindenburg to award him total power. This decree, granted by Hindenburg, was what allowed Hitler arrest Communist members of government a replace them with members of the Nazi party, ban certain publication, and ultimately pass the "Enabling Acts." Thus the "legal" dictatorship began.

Then, of course there are some less hefty stories that can be told of Berlin's buildings. Recognize this hotel?

(Forgive the fact that that man's head is in the way, I was going for angle here.)

No? How about now?

Why yes, yes it is...

One of my favorite stories goes with the TV tower. It
was built in East Berlin under Russian control. The man who was in charge of Berlin at the time (forgive me I don't remember his name) was apparently hardcore atheist. "Why do I need God? I have Marx and Lenin," he said. It was built between 1965-1969. Why did it take so long? I'm glad you asked. So, the construction of this massive tower, was supposed to be the symbol of Berlin and the largest structure in Germany. Aside from this it was suppose to be the big Russian, "look what we can do." Great. Go Communism. Whatever. Even then, though the Russian's had problems with it and had to call in a team of engineers from Sweden to finish the project. But that is not the best part of the story, the best part of the story comes after the tower is built and the sun hits the structure for the first time. Low and behold what appears?

A CROSS! (can you see it on the center of the ball?)

Needless to say the atheist dude was horrified. Not only could he not get the tower built himself but now it has a religious symbol painted across it every time the sun shines. He tried everything to get the glare to go away, he took bits off the tower, adjusted the angle, added things to it (he wound up announcing that it was not a cross but a plus for "Communism is awesome!"). Still the cross appears when the sun hits it. Today this little phenomina is called "The Pope's Revenge." I like to call it, "God's Sense of Humor."


Of all the things I saw in Berlin, one thing stuck with me the most, and, as usual, it had nothing to do with what I thought I would take away.

The Berlin Wall was constructed when my father was one year old. It was torn down six days after my first birthday. When I hear Winston Churchill's Iron Curtain Speech, I think of the Wall. When I think of Communism, I think of the Wall. When I think of the inability to go from place to place, to travel, to see things, to read books, to tell stories, I think of the Wall. The thing is, I didn't realize this is what I thought of until I got there and actually saw the Wall. This wall, is the greatest symbol of weakness to mankind, it's concrete, steel rods, and piping are far inferior to paper, ink, and ideas that strengthens my country. I took no greater pleasure in my entire 8 hours in the city than to take this picture:Be as cynical as you like about politics, but I promise you. We all get to the same place eventually.
That is Berlin!