Two flights, three subway rides, a bus, a taxi, and 24 hours later, I’m here in Granada. I was about to collapse from lack of food, so I put my things down, told my loved ones I had made it, and headed right out to find food. Apparently this city really never goes to sleep (except for siesta, which is during the day, maybe there’s a connection to the suffering economy here…) so I knew there would be lots of places open. It didn’t take me long to see Cafe Futbol, a place I had heard about many times from the Valpo group that came last year. It was hot chocolate (chocolate hecho) and Churros time. Definitely hit the spot. Chocolate hecho is so thick, it’s almost like pudding. It might have been a bit of a sugar overdose on my already tired system, so now I’m off to sleep before I start writing gibberish.
Valpo Voyager
Student Stories from Around the World
Date: September 11, 2010
Berlin, Germany isn’t what I expected. Then again, I don’t really know what exactly I was expecting. It’s a city very different than anything I’ve experienced, both structurally and historically.
This morning’s tour of Berlin was everything from strictly informative to highly emotional. We were exposed to many historical aspects of Berlin, including the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, the President’s home, and various embassy’s. It is always so enlightening to be able to physically see what the textbooks have historically taught.
The more emotional part of the tour was the viewing of the Holocaust Memorial. What one tends to imagine about a particular memorial isn’t at all what Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial is. The memorial consists of over 2,500 cement blocks, all of different shapes and sizes. When introducing us to the memorial, our tour guide informed us that the architect of this particular memorial had no underlying purpose in its creation; he wanted it to be up to each individual viewer to pursue their own inspired meaning.
When walking through this vast memorial, I was consistently contemplative about what coherent meaning I could create about the memorial. My interpretation is as follows:
The simplicity of the cement blocks that make up this memorial are seemingly complicated; they have no order. No single block is like another. These individualistic cement blocks represent the various generations that are faced with their shameful German history. No one generation could possibly feel the same as the next; for some are far more removed from the tragedy than others.
The memorial isn’t necessarily beautiful in the sense that it is pleasing to the eye, but upon profound thought and ample reflection, it becomes such a beautiful representation of what constitutes the German people. Even though they wish they weren’t a part of their inevitable dark history, they realize it is just that: history, and it cannot be changed. Instead of ignoring what was once a shameful time, they humble themselves by allowing such an interpretive monument to speak for the whole of the German people; all the while allowing it to speak to each German individually.
What a beautiful experience this was today, and a true preparation for tomorrow’s horrific, yet necessary journey: Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp
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