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We strolled through town. The walk from Dachau Bahnhof (train station) was only half an hour. The sun hid behind a blanket of clouds; tempering the otherwise golden warmth. People wandered about town; happily busy with their day-to-day lives. We weren't quite right though - we hadn't had a coffee yet that morning. Stepping out of the café with our warm brews in hand ensured our mood quickly improved. The sun had come out and we enthused about the usual topics. Sjane had to pee; as always. I assured her there'd be free facilities she could use at our destination. She's developed quite the complex about paying for public toilets.
I walked into the entrance of Dachau Concentration Camp not really knowing what to expect. Sjane had seem Mauthausen and Auscwitz: I think she had a better idea of what was to come. As we walked around the complex the stories started to unfold. Yes, of course the cruelty. The horiffic living conditions innocents endured. The standing cells. The piles of emaciated human corpses. The crematorium that had more in common with a factory - dealing with the endless piles of bodies needing to be liquidated. The context in which Hitler came to power. It made me think. Eventually anyway. At first I couldn't even process what I was seeing, let alone what it meant.
We talked on the way back to the train. Not in a cohesive conversation. More just segments of thought; thrown out in an attempt to help ourselves understand. To process. Some things stay with me: the ease at which history points the finger at Germany, when the country was forced to drastic action because of the vindictive Treaty of Versailles. The incredible cruelty humans are capable of when they are backed into a corner. Above it all I remember the feeling of angst walking back through the streets of Dachau. A father worked out in the park with his chubby son. An old lady tottered into the store with her walking frame. People everywhere; living their lives. Unaware of the crucible we had just been through. Dachau today is a town much like any other. It unsettled me. We headed for a Bavarian beer garden to lighten the mood - and let's be honest - to distract ourselves.
I sit in a quiet park in Garmisch, not two hours drive away, writing this. Dachau was less than 48 hours ago. The sun is high and warms the day. The flowers are in bloom and I can see three young girls cheerily flicking chunks of bread to the ducks. An elderly couple take their ease on a bench nearby. They are holding hands. Sjane crunches on a pink lady apple as she reads about Italian women and their cooking on the e-reader. The Alps stand high above it all; silent guardians of the serenity. The only interruptions are the chirping birds and the orchestra playing classical music in the nearby theatre. A serene, peaceful, perfect day. I am reminded of the closing prose from a book I read recently:
"... we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on." - Gregory David Roberts.
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