It has been a good week since our group of rag-tag students land in the Munich airport, and took a 1phour ride into the countryside, officially starting our adventures in German. Our bus ride tempted us with looks at the Munich Mercedes dealer through the window, and a few quick peeks at some of the landmarks before whisking us away to Kochel, a serene Bavarian village nestled nicely in the countryside, surrounded by beautiful lakes and tall mountains that disappear and re-appear in the morning fog.
Our first day was wisely spent allowing us to explore Kochel, though many people stayed behind to catch up on sleep (to this day I’m not completely adjusted to the time change). Jetlagged, cranky, and not fresh, but determined, myself and a few other students walked around the small park surrounding our hostel to get a nice view of the lakes and the random waterpark we found along our journey.
Most of our time in Munich consisted to us listening half-awake to a variety of important Germans, including a few members of the Bavarian parliament, a few holocaust survivors, Rabbis, and even a tour guide or two for good measure.
Dachau struck me as a very odd place, perhaps because of the clear blue sky, or the grass rowing inside the camp, or the fact that there was a bustling residential area right outside the walls. It just felt off. Many of the buildings had been torn down before the memorial site had been established, so very little of the actual camp remained. It sort of felt like Germany had tried to sweep the Dachau concentration camp under the rung.
A quick review for those following: this trip is based on a class for Drew on German Jewish identifies, which, of course, strongly involves that eternally interesting yet taboo subject, the Holocaust. Germans have been given the stereotype of both trying to redeem themselves, and yet secretly be proud of what occurred. In Munich, neither seems true, in fact, the lack of signage on the beer hall putsch or the inability to see Hitler’s old office suggests that Munich wants to get over what happened so many years ago, and would quite like the rest of the world to as well, thank you very much. If I may dip into controversy a bit (as I do like to do), I suppose I can’t blame them – I haven’t seen many monuments to the victims of slavery in America, one of the things that is quickly drawn in comparison to the Holocaust, it seems.
Scampering away from that subject before I say anything too abysmally stupid, I will move on to the general feel of Munich. I admit, the promise of going to Berlin after Nuremberg and Munich is like promising a dog a big juicy steak after kibble. At least to the uneducated like myself, it seemed that Munich would seem boring in comparison to Berlin. I was quickly proven wrong. Munich did not tickle my fancy car-wise, god knows I can’t even change my own oil yet (for shame!), let alone tell the difference between a tailpipe and a turbine. Oh dear, I’ve said something stupid. Quick, back to Munich.
Munich is beautiful I swear, I would have balked before at even hearing the idea of a mustard-yellow colored church, but here it fits, though it is placed rather ominously next to the government building where Hitler started a famous putsch. There are monuments dotted around the city dedicated to survivors, however, you do need to try to find some of them, as they are not well marked. My own personal feelings about the city might be marred by my previous city travels, as I tend to enjoy cities next to water more then not, so expect a lengthier and perhaps more exuberant report from our next stop, Nuremberg!
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