Dachau

A given for those traveling, especially abroad, is taking a mountain of pictures. I was a bad traveler, because I took very little. I took an entire DSLR camera to Germany with the intent to bring back an album, but I felt very different when I got there. I respect those who did because there is a small part of me that regrets not being as on-the-ball about it, but by the first day with the Fürstenfeldbruck Caritas crew I felt that I needed to remove myself from technology as much as I could. The culmination of my own personal life prior to arriving in Germany only intensified this feeling, and in the end, I am glad that I was able to fully entrench myself in living like a different person for a while.  

This cemented when we visited the concentration camp in Dachau. The morning of this same day we were given a tour of Munich but through the lens of WWII and the Socialist Party of Germany, their rise, and atrocities committed.  The entire day I was fully engrossed with no other goals than to be educated, and our personal tour guide, Frank, did an excellent job walking us around Munich and into a museum to build for our visit to Dachau.  

By the time we got to the Dachau concentration camp, I was eager but anxious. We were warned prior to entering to keep the picture-taking to a minimum, and I can say with confidence that our group not only obliged but fully understood why. Touring the camp was nothing short of bleak. No amount of preparation can shield you against the feeling of walking on the grounds where thousands of innocent people died. Many other tourists were on their phones, which immediately removes you from the immersion of being in such a dramatic location, which is why I am thankful to my past self for removing my phone from my thoughts entirely that day. 

The tour and accompanying information were emotional enough, but what affected me the most were the in-between moments when walking between buildings. I had no phone to look at like I usually would, so all I had was to look around. The weather was great: the sky was blue, the air was fresh, and it wasn’t too hot. It was summer so the grass was green, and flowers were budding their colors. Birds were chirping their songs.  

Nature was presenting itself in its most free form, and for that I felt the worst sadness for mankind, and a little guilt. I was able to recognize a beautiful day knowing I would leave, but many people walked on the same gravel I did, saw the same beauty I did, but never knew they would never see it again.