Trying to Find The Words...

In general, I'm trying to find the words. It's really hard when you're in the former Nazi capital to not keep thinking about the Holocaust, and it feels awkward to talk about regular tourist 20something things, like beer and sights, after you bring the obvious elephant in the room up. So, I'll keep negotiating that but try to understand that I'm not ignoring said elephant, just acknowledging it, and all the other things too. 

In the afternoon, we drove to Sachsenhausen. This is a concentration camp. I don’t feel that blogging about it would be really appropriate to make so public, but if you’re curious, ask me and we’ll talk. Our group had a powerful processing discussion for 90 minutes, openly sharing our reactions to the day and our questions and ideas that had evolved from the experience. A lot on my mind revolved around the ownership of the story, the awkwardness that remains between Jews and Germans and our respective grandparents, and the connections that should be drawn, and those that shouldn’t. 

Upworthy notes of the day included a fantastic dinner of baked sheep’s cheese and a crepe for dessert. Over the markedly improved food from the night before, we discussed Greek life hazing with our German guide Isabel, who also just graduated college. Our group is a mix of ages and backgrounds and schools and everyone seems to have a cool story. Conversations evolve in this kind of aggressive and curious way that’s so unusually open for a crew that just met. For a challenging day, I also laughed a ton and swapped stories with really impressive people who know a lot more about Germany, politics, international affairs, etc. One person is afraid of mannequins, another one is spending next year at Oxford, someone else is Canadian, another keeps disappearing from the group mysteriously and wore hood sweatpants yesterday and the preppiest polo today. A mystifying clan indeed.

After the official group discussion of the day, twelve of us went for our first Deutsche Bier. Confession: I don’t like beer. Or bier. So I got Framboise fruchtbeer, which was raspberry cough syrup marketed as alcohol (2.8%!? And that much sugar!? No thanks) and tried other actual beers while discussing the art of growing up, the awesomeness of study abroad, and a heap of Jewish geography. I also saw real live prostitutes because that’s legal here. A second wind encouraged me to take an explorational walk, rolling six deep. This was my first fully awake stroll and I finally found what it is that people think is so sweet about this city. The bars are packed for a Tuesday night and each one has a solid theme and ambiance: Indian beach, basement cellar, Arabian hookah lounge – you can do whatever you like. I asked a lot of questions about prostitute culture –Do they have breakfast together and swap stories? Why are they all wearing fanny packs? Do they have other career options?

While I likely won’t get these questions answered, this trip is full of both funny and serious, intellectual and creative thinking. And after today, as challenging as it might be, it’s the best brain workout I’ve had in a while and I’m totally ready for more.