We awake to a lovely view of munich. A bit cloudy, but we see the sprawling city from our bed. Up for a day trip. We walk the neighborhood looking for coffee. We find pastries, coffee, and the right train to get us to Dachau.
The short answer is you don't. We arrive at station, and look for our bus. We seem to be getting the hang of public transportation and connections. Although we must still look like we need help. A local sees us looking for right bus, and says "english, USA?, Bus 792 for Dachau. Then you come by and see our city, its very nice, not just a concentration camp". It is an interesting situation, that the community some 70 years later, will always be in the shadow of this horrific thing, yet has become a desirable neighborhood to build a life.
The day continues to get more solemn, the walk from the bus to the camp gate. The feeling, scene and details are unexplainable. We spent 3+ hours here.
It is something we are very happy that we experienced, and worth our trip, and to learn more of the holocaust, and the history of WWII. But is it the most horrible thing we have witnessed, seen, or experienced. As we leave the camp, and find our way back to our bus, we are quite, sad, and overwhelmed with emotion.
It is something we are very happy that we experienced, and worth our trip, and to learn more of the holocaust, and the history of WWII. But is it the most horrible thing we have witnessed, seen, or experienced. As we leave the camp, and find our way back to our bus, we are quite, sad, and overwhelmed with emotion.
As we board the train, we notice the couple sharing our seats, were on the train with us headed to there, and we remember crossing paths, noticing them, throughout the tour, and day. Something to know about us is our draw to our elders. As an adolescent years of loving Jonny Pike, grandparents, adopted grandparents. For Trish this extended to her days of serving the coffee clutch at JGs, to bartending days at Eastgate (the elders were only 40ish) to the days at the Breadboard of friending Margaret York, Frank York, all the retired folks in the county. So it is not surprising that we both remembered this one gentleman, while on the train to Dachau, , that we had met eyes, and connected with this gentleman, dressed in a wool coat, hat and smile.
A few time during the tour of museum and grounds we crossed paths with them. On the train we spark up conversation. They are from US, we chat. They from Michigan (Grosse Point and Royal Oak). We chat about Michigan, beer,travel and eventually wine. With me it all comes back to wine. He says, we own a winery in Oregon, My son Felix is the vintner! I say, I was just there for girls weekend. Him "Carlos and Julien" me, "I know people you know! My friends brother is related, do you know Noah?" Him, "yes Noah is married to my granddaughter" hugs, laughter, connection!!!
What a small world it feels. And how surreal, as we are across the globe, eploring new places, people, and cultures. We are so happy we grabbed this train out, we picked this train car, and sat in these seats. For only a moment it changes our mood, and brings some laughter and friendship to our day. We move on to our next stop, slightly more thankful, and somber.
What a small world it feels. And how surreal, as we are across the globe, eploring new places, people, and cultures. We are so happy we grabbed this train out, we picked this train car, and sat in these seats. For only a moment it changes our mood, and brings some laughter and friendship to our day. We move on to our next stop, slightly more thankful, and somber.
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