Berlin, History, Photos

Gallery: Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp

I opted to do this alone. I don’t really have anything I could possibly say to make the gravity and horror of a concentration camp make sense to anyone who hasn’t been to one. It doesn’t even make sense once you’ve been to one. This place is an unholy despair factory designed by sadistic brilliance. And right now I am sitting at a mass grave, in pleasant neighborhood listening to the autobahn and the blackbirds whir and chirp in the background. They built the modern police training barracks next to the camp. As a warning. This is what happens when authority goes unchecked and brutality takes the place of protection. This is a terrible place filled with the memories of terrible acts that illustrate how far that can go in the blink of an eye.
This trip to the concentration camp has left me feeling pretty fragile inside. It was so much worse than I imagined it would be. It isn’t the same as reading about it. It’s so much more visceral standing where tens of thousands experienced cruelty and pain none of us will ever know. I genuinely loathe the idea of people suffering such unimaginable atrocities, to the point where I can’t shake it. I always assumed this was normal, but after watching people runaround the camp with their selfie sticks and then talk about where to go for lunch on the bus afterward, I don’t know anymore. I felt sick and horrible the whole time, like there was a stench in the air but you couldn’t smell it. I had to force myself to take pictures because I knew I would regret not documenting it. I sat for a really long time at the mass grave and didn’t even realize there were tears in my eyes. Is it stupid to get that emotionally worked up about anonymous people who died 70 years ago? I don’t think so. Someone has to mourn them, and anyone who remembers them is most likely dead by now.

Wanderlieder

Hiking Song – Der Mai ist gekommen

Der Mai ist gekommen
bei Emanuel Geibel, 1841

Der Mai ist gekommen, die Bäume schlagen aus.
Da bleibe wer Lust hat, mit Sorgen zu Haus.
Wie die Wolken dort wandern am himmlischen Zelt,
so steht auch mir der Sinn in die Weite, weite Welt.

Frisch auf drum, frisch auf im hellen Sonnenstrahl,
wohl über die Berge, wohl durch das tiefe Tal!
Die Quellen erklingen, die Bäume rauschen all-
mein Herz ist wie ‘ne Lerche und stimmet ein mit Schall.

Und abends im Städtchen, da kehr’ ich durstig ein:
Herr Wirt, mein Herr Wirt, eine Kanne blanken Wein!
Ergreife die Fiedel, du lustiger Spielmann du,
von meinem Schatz das Liedel, das sing’ ich dazu.

Und find ich keine Herberg’, so lieg’ ich zur Nacht
wohl unter blauem Himmel, die Sterne halten Wacht.
Im Winde, die Linde, die rauscht mich ein gemach,
es küsset in der Früh’ das Morgenrot mich wach.

O Wandern, o wandern, du freie Burschenlust!
Da wehet Gottes Odem so frisch in der Brust;
da singet und jauchzet das Herz zum Himmelszelt:
Wie bist du doch so schön, o du weite, weite Welt!

Source:
Nagel, George. “Lieder Archiv.” Volkslieder Kinderlieder Weihnachtslieder Im Lieder-Archiv. Alojado Publishing, 31 Mar. 2016. Web. 13 Apr. 2016.

Tulips, Volkspark am Weinbergsweg, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger
Tulips, Volkspark am Weinbergsweg, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger

translation by Scarlett Messenger

May has arrived, the trees are sprouting.
Because who wants to stay with worries at home.
As the clouds there wander the heavenly pavilion,
so also is my sense in the wide, wide world.

Fresh all around, fresh on the bright sunbeam,
well over the mountains, well through the deep valley!
The sources are heard, the trees all rustle
my heart is like a skylark and chimes in with noise

And in the evening in the town, as I return thirsty:
Innkeeper, sir innkeeper, a jug of shining wine!
Seize the fiddle, you jolly minstrel you,
share in my wealth this song that I sing.

And I find no shelter, so I lie at night
well under blue sky, the stars keep watch.
In winds from which the linden murmurs me a chamber,
it kisses me awake in the morning.

O wander, o wander you free fair fellows!
Since God’s breath blows so fresh in the breast;
there sing and shout the heart to canopy of heaven:
As thou art so beautiful, O wide, wide world!

Personal Journal, Pop Culture

Lessons Learned: American’s Sound Like Nasal Machinery

American’s love to make fun of German accents. Sure, it’s a harsh language, but it is also a very elegant and expressive language. However, multiple encounters have taught me that the American accent is hilarious to Germans as well. And with typical German directness they will tell you so.

Random German: You are American?
Me: Yes, what gave me away?
Random German: makes a nasally grinding “myah myah myah” sound while making a puppet mouth with their hand to indicate my accent
Me: I see….

In other words, I sound like this: