*Deep Breath* End of my spring break travels

I would like to start this blog post by saying I think my Señora has put me on a diet.  For lunch the last week, I have only been fed soup and some (very old) lettuce. For dinner tonight, I received a tiny little Spanish tortilla (like an omlette) but with nothing in it (usually has potatoes) and beets. When I asked for a little more, she handed me a slice of ham.  Who said you gain weight when you go abroad?

Anyways, back to my trip.  I promised myself I would write this before I go to Barcelona on Friday with my program, so here it goes...

I ventured out of the hotel for my uplifting (?) trip to Dachau with the impression that getting there would be easy.  It was only 7 stops on Munich's SBahn, and I wouldn't have to change trains. Simple.  Until I got to the train station.  I followed the signs, walked down to the train and suddenly I was on the platform.  "Wow, that was almost TOO easy," I thought. Then I realized what I thought was a problem: I hadn't paid for anything. There hadn't been a turnstile. What?

After wandering around the train station looking for a place to buy a ticket, I found a machine. It was entirely in German. I asked the girl next to me for help, and she answered me in Spanish. Thank god I speak that language now.  She helped me buy a ticket. It was the wrong ticket. I started to tear up a little. I walked back to the hotel to check on my dad. He wasn't back yet.  It was 1 pm, they said he'd be back by 11 AM, where WAS he?!?! I cried again because I thought he had internally bled to death.  I called the hospital. They only spoke German. I screamed my father's name into the phone. Somehow, I was connected to the right person. My dad was alive.  This was a good first step.  Back to the train station...

I was determined this time. I almost quit, but then I was like, "Come on, your ancestors were probably tortured and murdered and worked to death at a concentration camp, and you're going to skip going to said camp because you can't figure out how to use the metro?" I like to guilt trip myself-it is one of my specialties.  After a confusing interaction with a male train station worker who had nails longer than mine (and way better manicured), I did indeed buy the right ticket.  Apparently, though, in Munich, you do not need to buy a train ticket because nobody ever checks them. You can essentially take the metro for free.  I guess if someone catches you it's a big fine, but that almost never happens.  How silly. Stressing for no reason is another one of my specialities.

Going to Dachau made my trip completely worth all of the stress.  It may be weird to say I enjoyed a concentration camp the most out of anything (besides staring at the Alps), but I did.  When I got off the train, I had no idea where to go.  There were no signs, either, and I obviously had forgotten directions or a guide book because I like to wing it (side note: I told the customs man this while trying to enter England. He was not pleased).  Then I heard a blessed sound: HEBREW! Jews are near! We have a bond! Also, I figured if they spoke Hebrew, they probably maybe possibly also spoke English. I decided to try it. I was correct-they were a nice Israeli couple and spoke Hebrew, German, Spanish and English. Perfecto.  I love meeting other travelers, so fun. We got on a bus which took us right to the camp, and immediately I was struck by how desolate the area was.  I had missed the morning tour, so I opted to buy a headset thing instead, which was fine.

As I walked to the entrance of the camp, I imagined how the prisoners had to walk this same route on the way to their probable demise (whether mental or physical).  Of course, they didn't know what awaited them, as the gate to Dachau reads: "Work sets you free." Of course, the Nazis were lying about that, which gave false hope to the poor prisoners of Dachau.

"Work Sets You Free"

Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp, and all of the others used it as a model.  Contrary to popular belief, Dachau was not a death camp.  Instead, it functioned as a work camp for the more "fit" prisoners (which consisted of not only Jews, but also priests who were against Nazi ideas, which I found interesting) and as a holding place until they moved prisoners elsewhere (usually to death camps such as Auschwitz).  Obviously, thousands died there due to disease (there were many typhoid epidemics), over work, torture, and straight-up executions with guns.  By the end of the war, the Nazis overcrowded Dachau since other camps had been evacuated by that point.  As a result, the barracks which were supposed to hold around 200 prisoners held around 2,000 by the time the U.S. liberated the camp.

I'll save the rest of the historical details, since it's easy enough to read them on Wikipedia if you are truly interested.  I will tell you my impression: I don't believe in ghosts. Never have.  But there were ghosts there, or spirits, or something. I don't know how to explain it, but there was something in the air. I felt like it's never sunny there.  When I started at the camp, it was grey and drizzling.  When I exited the museum after an especially chilling video presentation, it was sunny. But it wasn't a normal sunny. It was a dark sunny, which probably doesn't make sense, but it's the only way I can think to describe it.  Everything was silent, even if there was a baby crying or people talking. It was still silent somehow, but at the same time you felt like spirits were talking to you. It was surreal. In order to really understand the feeling, I recommend you visit a camp yourself. It's difficult to see, but it's important and something that I think everyone should experience in their lifetime if given the opportunity.

Never again 

A scene that would normally be beautiful but it's just...not. That's kind of how the whole camp was.

I walked around more, and the spookiest part for me was an area in the woods.  I walked back there thinking it was a reprieve from the rest of what I had seen, but it was worse.  This area was actually where the Nazis executed the prisoners.  When the U.S. forces liberated the camp, they buried the corpses they found as best as they could (there were apparently piles and piles of bodies upon their arrival), and the woods I was exploring was where a lot of them were buried.  There was a stone that read "Pistol Range for Execution."  Was I standing in the exact place where a Nazi had pulled the trigger, aimed towards the head of another human being? Were those victims possibly my ancestors? I didn't really want to think about that too much, so I walked away.

It actually disgusts me to think that some people believe the Holocaust never happened. As I was leaving the camp, I walked by an old woman sobbing her eyes out. She looked to be in her eighties, and was looking out at the camp with a look of desperation on her face.  I wondered if she was a survivor. I'll never know the answer, but I wanted to help her so badly.  On a lesser scale, that's probably how prisoners in the camp felt.  They wanted to help their family and friends as they watched them be tortured, overworked, and even executed, but there was nothing they could do to alleviate the situation.

Anyways, after a good three and a half hours reading almost every single sign at Dachau (hey, I am a history major, after all), I left the camp emotionally drained. I was also inspired to find out if my ancestors had been held there (I have since talked to my cousins about doing a genealogy of our family.  I am a history major, my cousin Carrie is a librarian, and my other cousin Emily is a genetic counselor, so we have almost all the tools we would need!  Hopefully we actually do this. I want to).

So. That was the end of Dachau. I feel like the rest of what I am going to say is going to sound bratty and insignificant, but I don't mean it that way. I don't really know how to follow up with happy, fun things, after writing about all those sad and depressing things, so just go with it.

I returned to the center of Munich and did what any girl would do after an emotionally draining few days.  I went shopping.  After buying a bathing suit and several pieces of jewelry that I don't need, I went back to hotel to greet my heavily bruised father.  He looked great! By great I mean two black eyes and a swollen nose, but otherwise...perfect.  We meant to get dinner in the hotel, but the turkey sandwich I ordered took over 45 minutes to make, and I had plans to meet my friend Keri to go to a beer hall.  I finally met up with her and went to the famous beer hall that I forget the name of, and we had a great time.  We also met other British travelers.  They were doing a charity program through their school which required them to hitchhike from London to Bulgaria in eight days. I hope they made it! I friended one of them on Facebook, so I'm hoping to hear news soon. :) They were amazingly nice people and we had a great time talking to them.  Also, hearing Europeans talk about college parties in the U.S. is hilarious.  They are all so eager to attend a famous "red cup party."  And, according to my new British friend Holly, if the cups weren't red, she would be angry.  Meeting friendly other travelers is so so so much fun. If anyone reading this is planning on traveling or going abroad in the near future, I recommend you talk to anyone and everyone who does not look creepy or frightening (look for people with HUGE traveling backpacks and speaking English).  You can learn so much from random people.  After these friendly hitchhikers started talking to us from a few tables away (asking where we were staying that night), I invited them to sit with us, and we spent the whole night with them laughing, talking and having a generally good time.

New British friends, plus me, Keri, and her friend Monica (top right).

The next day, my dad and I returned to Granada, which was uncharacteristically rainy and cold. Figures.  We explored the city a little, and once it started raining we sat in my favorite Irish bar, Hannigans, and thawed a little.  It was a decent end to an overall good trip, minus my dad's bruises.  I hope one day to go back to Switzerland, and I want to visit Auschwitz someday, as depressing as it may be.

I am actually falling asleep at my computer, and I need to restrain myself from eating the rest of my giant chocolate bar, so it's off to bed.  I hope everyone's having a good week! :)  I can't believe I come home in about a month, and I also can't believe I'm almost a senior in COLLEGE. I am SO old.

Love love love,

Lauren