Sunday, 30.03.08, 12:16 p.m., Bratislava, Slovakia, Old Town

The bus ride that I wrote the previous entry from was alright. The trip was a bit over four hours. I slept for most of the way. Crossing the Czech nation by train and bus in its entirety is very cool. Bohemia is lovely and hilly, which Moravia is flat like Germany, but far poorer. I got into Bratislava's bus station near noontime. And I thought that the Czech Republic was off the beaten path---this place is a time warp or a bad Twilight Zone episode. The bus station is this dilapidated box that looks like something out of the early 70s, more Skoda cars from the 80s, and garbage everywhere. Slovakia...yeah.

I looked for bus 202 to get to my hostel, but I cannot find it, so I start wandering around. I saw signs for a Tesco and knew that my hostel was across from one. So I just sucked it up and walked. And walked. And walked. Time escaped me and three hours passed. It was so frustrating because all I wanted was sleep and a shower. I worked up the nerve to walk into a gas station and ask for directions with my map handy. In Slovak (pretty much the same language as Czech, though a different dialect) I say hello and asked if they spoke English. The woman said yes and was so kind as to tell me that I needed to get on tram # 5 to reach my street, Spitalska. I thanked her, bought a ticket across the street from the gas station, and got on the tram to my hostel, which I hit in 15 minutes. Check-in was easy and I took my first real shower in four days (minus the "hosing down" in Prague). Then I got ready for a nap. It was 6:30 at night and I set my alarm for 9 p.m. so I could go to Tesco and buy some food. I didn't wake up until 9 a.m. the next day and managed to sleep through EU daylight savings also! And now I sit in Bratislava's old town in a cafe off of the main square.

It is quite nice and compact here. The Bratislava city marathon is happening right now too, which is pretty cool to see. It is around 50F (10C) today and cloudless. I really like the way that the light hits the trees. You can tell that the buds are about to bloom, but needs more sunlight and time. Give it one more week. I hope that Bratislava grows on me. I want to like it, but it is pretty dumpy by and large. I began this entry sitting in a McDonalds (!) drinking a coffee. Now I am having lunch in a niceish bistro. There are huge quotes from T.S. Eliot on the wall in from of me. A pretty hip place in the decidedly unhip Bratislava. Ordered Miranda (similar to Fanta), a double espresso, and a prosciutto pannini sandwich. Not bad for the equivalent of four(ish) dollars (150 crowns)!I wanted to have some food in my stomach before trekking up to the castle that looms over the entire city like a gatekeeper.

Tonight will be super, super early. Shower, laundry, bed. Up at 6 a.m. to catch a bus to Vienna at 8. From there, I will be taking a train across the Austrian countryside to Salzburg. If nothing else, Bratislava gives me the opportunity to recharge my batteries before the last leg of the tour. I cannot help but think about all of the new friends who I have met while on this tour. It hurts to make connections with people and leave them the next day or the day after that. Perhaps I get too easily attached. I just love people that much. I love their quirks and stories. I love spontaneity. I also know that I am loving all of this time alone because it is helping me to learn more about myself and where I come from, literally. Now I realize why Bedrick Skorepa (my grandmother's father), Pavel Mako (my grandfather's father), and Zsusanna (my grandfather's mother) left the old country for a better life in the U.S. In my eyes, Bratislava is the frumpy girl or guy who has endless potential to be beautiful/handsome/what have you, but is still figuring out an identity, still getting there. Maybe in a few years, Bratislava will be a new Euro hot spot. It is great to see few tourists here though. I like being off the beaten path.
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6:44 p.m. Bratislava, Patio Hostel lounge

I visited the castle, or as it is referred to in Slovak, the Hrad. To get there, you have to walk up this steep hill in a residential neighborhood. I enjoyed the graffiti along the way, most notably a cow with a pink smiley face tagged onto it. Very Warhol. Once I reached the top, I was impressed, but it is not what you may think. This is no chateau, but rather a decrepit fortress. The real draw was the view over Bratislava's new town. Miles upon miles of bleak, Soviet style bloc apartments. White, short, and sprawling. The housing remained after Czechoslovakia separated once and for all in 1993's "Velvet Divorce." Some have been painted bright colors to make them more appealing, but the skeletons from Slovakia's communist past are still there. At least they are out of the closet, so to speak, and incorporate their difficult past into the present. This is part of an historical past that cannot be shaken. It was breathtaking, the way that the houses stand like tin soldiers in line.

Later in the day, I made my way back to the hostel to shower, stock up on food at Tesco, and eat in the old square. I love Tesco for the prices and the bizarre set up. The area that I walked into was more like a kiosk than part of a grocery store. I mean, why not have the same items in the store? I felt like the sandwiches and drinks were ghettoized. Oh, Slovakia! I was proud that I completed another transaction completely in Slovak. People watching in the square while eating my finds at Tesco was great. Three old world nuns taking garbage out (one was driving a massive van), two boys on the bench beside mine listening to Slovak hip hop on an iPhone, a lady younger than my mom wearing a babushka, and several young professionals on their laptops. Now I am in the hostel drinking more Nescafe even though it is awful. It is hard being a slave to coffee when there is no coffee to be had.

Laundry was interesting. The only clean clothes that I had were my new "Slovensko" t-shirt and yellow athletic shorts. I went to the common area to check my e-mail, but the computer froze on me so I had to re-boot. It still wasn't working. A girl was waiting to get on and I was embarrassed. She seemed ticked off, rightfully so. I found out later that she is in my hostel room! It gets even better. The washer malfunctioned and she came in to do her laundry with the guy that she was traveling with. They were friendly though, both are from Brazil and are traveling around Europe for at least three more weeks. I had a conversation with the guy about Prague and how much we both loved it. After the washer ordeal (it finally opened), I bought a pint of Corgon (awful Slovak beer) and read for a while, but had a bit of difficulty because of the loud Spanish-speaking teenagers in the common room who were channel surfing forever.

This whole leg of the trip has been a farce. It is such great comedy that I am even here, trying to make sense of everything. Part of me should have stayed in Prague with Alix and Hanna, but I am glad to be struggling through this. It is an experience that I cannot forget. Even if I tired to, it wouldn't let me.

29.03.08 Bus from Prague-Bratislava Part III

The night began with dinner at a cool pub near our hostel. Me, Alix, and Hanna had a great time. I had a pilsner and they had Mojitos I think (?) Alix did anyway. She was really into them! We caught up on the day's happenings and learned a lot about each other's lives. They told me about their semesters studying in Cork and about Minnesota. Apparently, Hanna grew up near Duluth, MN, which is home to one of my favorite bands of all-time, Low! Go see them if you have the chance. They are unreal.

At the pub, there was a girl/guy duo playing. They are alright. We thought that they were Czech at first, but found out that they were probably North Americans by their accents. Perhaps they were students abroad, who knows. It made Alix and I think more about what we were going to name our band. After dinner, we walked back to our crappy hostel to figure out what to do. It was probably the worst hostel that I have ever stayed in. The showers are filthy, the toilets are worse, the beds are made so cheaply that I rock it when I get out of bed, the staircase is drafty, and the lights always go out unexpectedly. A charmer, right? But for all that it's worth, they have a Nescafe machine and they give you *something* in the morning, even if it is only bread, jam, and coffee. So we sat in our vestibule/common area with these two Mexican guys (ones our age, not the old Darth Vader snorers in our dorm room) and two socially awkward, engineering types who are French and speak little English. The Mexican guys were very cool, as were the French guy from Orleans. The Mexican guys spoke English and we communicated with the others in a bit of French, as well as in charades.

I looked at my watch after a while and it was near midnight. I had an 8 a.m. bus to catch to Bratislava (the one that I am writing on right now). Against my better judgment, I went out to a club with all of them. It was advertised as "the largest club in Central Europe!" HA! So we stroll through the clear Prague night, feeling every cobble beneath our feet. We find the place, which is in old town, in about 40 minutes. It is only 120 crowns to get int (about five bucks). The floor was sticky with who knows what. It makes matters more bizarre that there was a *coat check!* A coat check in this dump. Each of the, count them, FIVE floors had a different style of music pumping. Trashy 80s, 90s, hip hop, and I quote, "chill out" music. There were seizure-inducing lights that reminded me of laser tag in seventh grade, only all of these seventh graders were drinking and smoking like chimneys. Seriously, we were some of the older people there.

So many of the kids looked 16 or younger. There were the occasional creeper middle-aged guys too. One came out of nowhere! Red polo, Magnum P.I. stache, disheveled hair...pedophile? Alix and I kept making up stories about this guy and all of the unattractive teenagers making out everywhere. It was 3:30 a.m. by the time that we decided to walk back. My bus was at 8 a.m., mind you. I had to wake up at 6:30 to make it to the station in enough time. Walking back was sad because I knew that I probably wouldn't see Alix or Hanna in the morning. Again, I hate connecting with people and having to leave them behind. The constant togetherness/loneliness is the path that I chose going at this alone though. I wasn't tired when we returned to the hostel and checked my e-mail. After a few minutes, I shambled up the dark staircase to my bed. Hanna was around and we had a quiet moment without much to say. It was just sad because I knew that I wanted to travel with them and they wanted to travel with me as well I think. Hey, Minnesota isn't too far from where I live. I foresee gigs there in the future!

By morning, (or rather, two hours later) I quickly left notes for Alix and Hanna and rested the paper scraps by their beds because they were sleeping. 30 seconds later, I vanished into the Prague new town labyrinth to make it to my metro and find the Florenc [FLOOR-ENSS] bus station. I made it to Florenc, but could not for the life of me find the station. I asked a woman in broken Czech where it was and she did not know. Trying to to freak out, I found a guy with a pack and thought that he was also a traveler who might know. He turned out to be a local, but was friendly enough to walk me to the station, which was not far from where we were. I thanked him in Czech and arrived at my platform with 30 minutes to spare. I hope that next time, I will have someone to travel with. Any takers?

29.03.08 Bus from Prague-Bratislava Part II

The Czech National Museum was a mish mash of marble ceilings, bronze statues of notable Bohemians, stuffed animals (including an elephant), and hominid bones. I don't get it either---no rhyme or reason. I wandered around the decadent interior for a bit and felt really uneasy in the room full of stuffed creatures. I wonder how long it took to stuff the elephant or cheetah...

Birds, marsupials, tiny mammals, rodents. You name it and it was in this museum and stuffed. I shook my head and said "No, I think I'll pass," and made my way to old town, a 20 minute walk. It is beyond words when there aren't horrendous crowds of gawking past-their-prime tourists who get off of the motor coach with their black socks, Teva sandals, white khaki shorts, and huge Konica cameras from the 80s. Most just ogle, few seem to take any of it in or care. I hope that I am not that ambivalent when I grow old.

There were some jazz musicians playing swing tunes and I took some audio samples. I have been collecting field recordings all week for future songs. The glockenspiel's brooding chime from Munich would be a good fit. I hope that I can use these guys in a song too. For all of you meat eaters, Prague (and Eastern Europe in general) is heaven. You can get a kielbasa on baguette bread with fixens for, like, $1.25, if that. It really hit the spot, as I sat on a bench people watching in old town with some Asian tourists.

I was apalled by the crowds at the Charles Bridge, so I made my way back to the hostel wandering the labyrinth and picking up some items for my family and Jamie. I wish that I could have gotten up early enough to hit the bridge at its best---naked. Vacant. Without the oglers.

Nevertheless, the views over Prague and the Vltava River are nothing short of heaven on Earth. Each side of the bridge is flanked by enormous statues of Jesus, Mary, etc. The oldest part of the city hits you after crossing the Charles. Past and present blend seamlessly into something of an urban majesty unrivaled elsewhere in the world. It is a work of art in and of itself, unscathed by either world wars, or of wars' past. I spent more time here the day before with Gennelle and Jean, when we went to the massive castle complex. The lines to get into the castle were easily two hours long, so we wandered and bought tickets into the other buildings like St. Peter's Basilica. I thought that the torture chambers were the most bizarre part of the entire area. There was this huge iron circle, accessible only through a narrow, chute-like spiral staircase. It fit every dungeon stereotype, and was probably more heinous! Prisoners were lowered into "the pit" to their death. I don't know how fast bones decompose if ever, but there were some remains---who knows if they were fake though.

After a quick snack, we walked onward to the Franz Kafka Museum. I was so excited because Kafka is by far one of my favorite fiction writers. I was surprised with how modern the entire exhibit was. Many of the rooms meandered in bizarre shapes and were filled with artifacts from his brief and brilliant career. Most notably with his handwritten letters to friends, lovers, and publishers. The setup was peculiar, but very cool---many sculpted and featureless filing cabinets containing the names of his works and displays in the opened cabinets. It was a really creative concept, though after attempting to open the other filing cabinets, I was unsuccessful, as was Gennelle. A bit embarrassing! I love minimalist art.

Seeing the original manuscripts of The Metamorphosis, The Trial, In the Penal Colony, and The Hunger Artist made the trip completely worth it. It was impressive all around and was my favorite museum in Prague. Rest in peace, Franzy!

I miss Gennelle and Jean a lot. They went off to Poland (more specifically, Krakow) on Thursday. But I had a great day wandering solo the next day too. At night, things got interesting. Very interesting...

Saturday, 29.03.08, 7:51 a.m., Bus en route to Bratislava, Slovakia Part I

I didn't write for an entire day for good reason! I just wasn't around. I walked until my feet gave out and spent the better part of yesterday in Wenceslas Square in Prague's new town. Oddly enough, my surname, Fencl, is an abbreviation for Wenceslas. Fencl Square? Anyway, my goal was to go to the museum of Communism, which was incredible. After that, I went into the Czech National Museum before heading back to recharge my batteries at the hostel, where I randomly met two new friends---Alix and Hanna. But first, a bit of back story:

After writing the previous entry, I get into the shower, which is one of those bizarre showers with no mounted head, but rather the hose-like nozzle that detaches. It was more like hosing down than showering. Not a fan. So I get dressed, walk into my room and Alix is there. She is a student from Minnesota by-way-of North Dakota. She and her friend Hanna are studying abroad in Ireland and are on spring break. She is really into music and we had a lot to discuss. We sat like little kids on our bunk beds talking across the room and trying not to freak out too much about how cool it was that we met and were swapping stories about seeing Explosions in the Sky live. I am so envious that she got to see Phil Elverum! Yes, THE Elverum of Microphones/ Mount Eerie fame. She also does music of her own. (Ed.--Excellent tunes! check them out here)

That night, (this is still the 26th) we decided to go to a pub down the street from our hostel, which is completely shitty, but that is beside the point! We cannot sleep in our own dorm room because of the three middle aged men who snore so loudly that they collectively sound like Darth Vader with walking Pneumonia. Basically, it got so bad at night that sleep was just not worth it.

Alix is such a cool person. She studies Environmental Science at school and also wants to work for NGOs in D.C. (Ed.---I hope to move to D.C. by the end of the summer). We discuss a musical collaboration, which we hope to get underway when she returns to the States. I mean, when two people share the same musical loves and become such fast friends like us, it is a no brainier!

Then out of nowhere, these two guys appeared. Both were kind of creepy, and they started talking to us. Their English was kind of broken, and they made Alix uncomfortable by playing with her hair. The one is relatively normal in appearance, but the other resembles a sort of Che Guevara poseur in that he sported a tan leather beret and a red leather military jacket. He was very pseudo-guerrilla. He kept saying, "I am psychic! I AM psychic!" So far gone...

I tried to distract them by asking where they were from. In their slurry, drunken haze, they said that they were from Zurich but were originally from Tel Aviv. When I expressed an interest saying that I wanted to visit the beaches of Tel Aviv, they made plenty of recommendations and gave me their business card for a vegetarian restaurant that they own in Zurich. All the while, Alix and I kept making eye contact to figure out how we would make our get away. We eventually said that we had to get some air, but would be back. We ended up going back to the hostel and talked more music. I think that I actually slept that night because I was so tired. I couldn't even move my feet.

The next morning, I woke up a bit later and talked to Alix and Hanna. Then I was off to the Communist Museum to see Uncle Karl and Vlad L. Like most places in Prague, it was quite difficult to find. I actually ducked into a McDonalds to see if it would be any better with fresher grass-fed beef, but it wasn't. Same old shit. I hate McDonalds. I hate what it has done to the global economy and I eat it once a year usually. They should put surgeon general warnings on Big Macs or "Royale" burgers (quarter pounder) like they do on cartons of cigarettes.

Apparently, the museum was on the other side of the McDonalds, so I was in luck. I loved this museum. it was a cluster of rarities, commonplace items, and all things bizarre during the nearly 70-year existence of the Czechoslovak SSR (CSSR). Murals of worker hero worship, Lenin, and Marx were plenty. I especially loved the film screening where they showed the Velvet Uprising of 1989. It was intense to think that 30 minutes prior, I was in Wenceslas Square where it all happened and even stranger yet that the revolution occurred within my lifetime. After, I visited the National Museum and it was not as cool as I thought it was going to be.

Thursday, 27.03.08, 7:23 p.m., Prague, CZ, recap of happenings

The past two days have been a blur. I have spent most of my time here with Gennelle and Jean, my two newest and coolest friends. I am so glad that we met, and in such a random way! Always the best. It is moments like this when I live to travel independently because I always meet such great people who are a match of like minds. It is unfortunate that things had to be cut short. Gennelle and Jean left a little while ago to catch a train to Krakow. I wished so badly that I could have gone with them, but I have plans to trek off to Slovakia in a couple of days. I should have canceled my plans to Bratislava. Now I am all by my lonesome again. I suppose this comes with the territory and I have never been good with goodbyes, especially when there is a real connection.

So here has been Prague through my eyes, as of late:

After our train *finally* arrived, around 4 p.m. yesterday, we all changed some money and quickly looked for the metro line to get out of the train station. The language barrier was more apparent here and there were few English speakers to turn to for assistance. Finally, an old guy randomly stopped and directed us to the ticket kiosks so we could get on the red line and transfer to the yellow line (our hostels were only three stops away from each other and on the same route). He must have seen a chance to practice English and seized the opportunity. I don't know why---I find Czech to be infinitely more interesting than English.

My stop was just before Gennelle and Jean's, so we parted ways and I told them that I would find their hostel so we could meet up for dinner and drinks in the evening. My directions to the hostel are decent, but I kept getting turned around. Prague is a difficult city to navigate, despite its compact feel. Maps do not do much justice, as there is no rhyme or reason to any of the streets. Everything is a labyrinth of tightly-packed cobblestone streets, Hapsburg-era architecture, and cherry colored trams. So I kept getting turned around, but didn't mind in the least. The street leading to my hostel is lovely. The epitome of old world charm.

I made it to my hostel without too many navigating issues, but it took FOREVER to check-in because the person at the front desk was a newbie. I paid in Euros because I did not have enough Crowns to complete the transaction and did not want to venture back out to find an ATM. Then, she has NO KEY for me! So she decided to walk with me to the room, which is up five flights of stairs in a very old building, which looks nice from the outside, but is complete shit otherwise. The staircase was dank and drafty. I was in room # 45. Three middle-aged Mexican men had just checked in and the older one gave me his key. We chat for a bit and they tell me that they are from Baja California, just south of San Diego. I quickly unrolled my sleeping bag onto the bed because the sheets were questionable. Plus, I had to figure out how to get to where Gennelle and Jean were staying. The oldest man, whose name I forget sadly, showed me his Indiana Jones-esque fedora, which was decorated with pins from his travels. We had a little exchange about Salzburg. I told him that it is the last stop on the trip for me. After the small talk, I shoved my pack and messenger bag into the tiny security locker, said bye to the guys, and hit the streets.

I was in such a rush that I didn't even time stamp my metro ticket (oops...) because I didn't want to miss Jean and Gennelle. I got turned around a few times and couldn't find the hostel, even after following the signs to it. I saw where I made my error, and had to walk up a flight of stairs that were iron and rusting. From the top, the hostel was in front of me. So I head to the check-in counter and ask for their room. The guy said that they were ACROSS the street in the other part of the hostel and that I had to be buzzed in. Great. Could that have been any more of an ordeal?! I crossed the street, almost got hit by a Renault hatchback, and pressed the buzzer five or six times and still could not get in! Finally, the door opens, and I trek up a few flights of stairs until I see a sign for the reception. I opened the door and there they are! So we left their hostel, Aparcay, and walked for a couple of blocks to find a place for dinner.

I really like this area of Prague. Far from all of the ogling and wide-eyed tourists, this part is the real Prague. Hard factory workers driving home, more dilapidated homes that are side-by-side with renovation projects, and small pubs like the one we went to for dinner. If we were going to eat authentic Czech food and drink cheap beer, this was the place.

Although smoke-filled, it was perfect! A man stood in the corner playing pinball, bartender was tending to a couple of people who seemed to be "Cheers" style everyone-knows-your-name regulars, and a long table was set up for a large family or group of friends. I couldn't tell. Bohemian hockey was on the T.V. I think it was Prague versus Karlovy Vary. And then there was the three of us. The lone English speakers in the joint! It was refreshing.

We each had two rounds of Pilsner. Each half liter was just over a buck! Gennelle and I had beef goulash with massive dumplings for like, $4.50. It was unreal! Yes friends, this is the real Bohemia---Prague for the Praguers. We left completely satisfied and with money in our pockets for today's happenings. We decided to meet up the following day at the Franz Kafka Museum but ended up running into each other earlier in the day, so we went to Prague Castle as well. After leaving the restaurant, I walked back to the metro station and made it to the hostel around 10:30, 11ish. I was dead tired and thought that I could sleep restfully. Little did I know about the snoring from hell...

Wednesday, 26.03.08, 9:18 a.m., on a train en route to Prague, CZ

It is uncanny that the train I am riding on to my motherland is called "ALEX." It has to be a sign from Bedrick, Francicek, Pavel, or Zsusanna!

I am sitting in my compartment with a German student who is probably in her mid 20s and two Canadian students, Jean and Gennelle, who are on spring break from their studies at the University of Leeds. Jean is from Alberta and Gennelle is from Ontario. I immediately hit it off with them and we become fast friends. I just hope that they don't think that I am a creeper. When you are traveling independently, you have to put yourself out there---you have no alternative. I'm glad that I have some cool people to talk to because this ride is nearly seven hours in length...

Random aside, but I *loved* Germany. It was quite the pleasant surprise. I was not expecting it to be so charming and the people (at least in Bavaria) were delightful, fun-loving, and helpful. Germany will always be underrated because of 20th century stigmas, but make no mistake---it is charming! Munich reminded me of Montreal, except Germanic and flat as a pancake. Sitting on the train, movement is completely horizontal. The Bavarian countryside is slightly obnoxious in its lack of character. To put it into perspective, it is like central Ohio, Indiana, and Pennsylvania steam-rolled eight million times and decorated with centuries-old churches.
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2:30 p.m., Plzeň, CZ, en route to Prague, CZ

It has been an intense ride. Me, Gennelle, and Jean have passed the time by talking about pretty much everything, including celebrity family trees and who we would want in ours. "ALEX" crossed the Czech border about an hour ago. A surly woman who checked our tickets came to our cabin door and in a broken smattering of English, German, and Czech told us that we would arrive in Prague one hour later because of the snow in Bavaria, which was nothing compared to the snowstorm of biblical proportions that hit Cleveland right before I left for the tour.

Then another woman, even surlier than the one before, checked our tickets yet again and shouted at us in Czech about a train change. We had no idea how to take it, and her gestures made it seem like we should stay on "ALEX" because we were ticketed to Prague via this train. So we continue talking and don't realize that we are the only ones LEFT ON THE TRAIN! The same Bohemian woman comes over and shouts, "Večer! Večer! Večer!!!!" (Hurry! Hurry!)

So we haul ass off of "ALEX" and frantically search for our connecting train in the Plzeň train station and see the platform for "Praha" departing in TWO MINUTES. We barely make it onto this rinky dink cabin in time. I notice that the seats feel a little more comfortable than on "ALEX," even though it looks like it hasn't had any work done on it since the mid 70s. The SAME WOMAN comes to check tickets and yells at us AGAIN. Apparently, we are in first class, so we grab our gear and shuffle off to the second class cabin, which shitty and half of the size of our "ALEX" compartment. So now me, Gennelle, and Jean sit with a man who has uncontrollable nose hair, two German women, and a fat dude with greasy, slicked back hair and a trash stache. He blasts death metal through his iPod. The icing on the cake is his G-Unit hoodie, which is horribly out-of-place with his metal dude vibe. Threeish hours until Prague and we have this...

The west bohemian countryside is harsh. Intense, intense poverty.It is like Appalachia but worse. Shit strewn about outside of plywood shacks, bad graffiti, foreclosed homes, abandoned factories, bundles of freshly-chopped firewood, horses grazing beside piles of garbage, dead Skoda cars from the Czechoslovak era, and gray skies. This is heavy shit. You can see the economy in transition and how nearly a century of communism affected tens of thousands of people.

The forests are glimmers of freshness on a severely dilapidated terrain. Time to stop writing until Prague...it is hard to keep my pen steady on this rickety train!

Tuesday, 25.03.08, 10ish p.m., Munich, DE. Meditation at Dachau concentration camp

Another long day that dragged on and on because of the sleeplessness. I was in and out all night, waking up to inane drunk people talking loudly and dry heaving. Miraculously, I got up with my alarm at 7 and had breakfast with Liz and Meghan. We spent the morning in Marienplatz window shopping, looking for batteries, and watching the snow fall in the open air market. Even the snow falls gracefully here. The glockenspiel was stunning in the frost. We ended up killing some time in a nearby cafe before our tour was to depart for Dachau.

It is difficult to put such a place into words. Around 200,000 people from all walks of life were brought to Dachau and were expected to work until the bitter end. German intellectuals, Bohemian Jews, homosexuals, the unemployed, Roma (Gypsies), and basically all of those considered useless to the S.S. were stripped of any semblance of human dignity the second they were escorted past the front gate. I felt so fortunate to be standing within the camp gates so that I could make sense of it myself. Walking around, you could feel death in the air. It is like a massive graveyard for all of those without graves---for all who were not permitted to have graves because they were considered subhuman. It was also fitting that the temperature outside was 25F (~ -4C) and snowing. The winds were so brisk that I could feel my face chafing. A few hours in the bitter cold was a small sacrifice compared to all of the suffering that so many faced against their will.

I began to feel sick to my stomach when we walked inside one of the crematoriums, as well as the "showers." To witness where such cruelty against humans took place is very much like an out-of-body experience---the vestiges of an evil far greater than any of us.

It is wonderful that the Germans has preserved this site as a memorial to all of the fallen. It goes to show how they do not forget about their painful past, and nor should we. It is not just an issue of heinous torture that happened in a region-specific place, but rather a collective suffering that affects all of us. History keeps repeating itself, as evinced by Vietnam, Rwanda, Bosnia, Milosovec's Serbia, Armenia, and the current U.S. situation in Iraq. If we only learn one thing from Dachau it is that this cannot keep happening. We are the only humans that we know, and the differences in lifestyles among 6.6 billion people have to be acknowledged and tolerated (embraced if we are lucky). If not, we risk extinction by our own hands.

"Never again."

Never again.