Category: Personal

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Berlin

Berlin is a very livable city, and by this, I mean there is so much to see and do for both locals and tourists, that it seems it would never become dull. If something one day brings me to Berlin for an extended period of time, I will not complain. Its full history, albeit very controversial at times, has created a city complete with a diverse cultural scene, a young vibe, and a population proud to call themselves Berliners.

Brandenburg Gate

My first day running around the city, I start at the famous Brandenburg Gate and stroll my way down Unter den Linden. I quickly run into Tim and Adam, two friends I met in Munich who had been staying in the hostel next door. We continue onwards to the city park as we all enjoyed our afternoons. Basing myself at the Wombats Hostel in Berlin, I had easy access to the subway, which in turn makes getting to any other landmark uber convenient. From the moment I arrive, I am excited to to spend several days in this very alive city.

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Munich Walking Tour

I get to know Munich through the NewEurope Free Walking Tour. At first, I am skeptical of the tour as a large number of people make their way to Marienplatz. Large groups, soft speaking tour guides, and crowded cities are all part of an equation that usual pushes me towards a self-guided tour. However, I’m with a couple friends I met at the hostel, and I decide to wait it out a little before making a decision. Before the tour starts the group gets divided up several times eventually placing me in a group of about twenty-five.  It is still a sizable number; however, the tour guide can project her voice and as a result, I become more optimistic about the tour to come. By the end of the tour, I would highly recommend this activity, which is offered in several European cities by Sandeman’s NewEurope Tours. The tour is free with the guides expecting tips based on their performances. This, in turn, creates a great incentive for the guide to provide an excellent tour complete with jokes, fun stories, and a lot of entertaining background as we walk around the city.

As seen during Munich walking tour

Walking tour

Street musicians in Munich

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Never Again

A message repeated throughout the many museums and monuments of the Holocaust is that retelling its story is critical so as to prevent anything similar form happening again. I fully agree with the message and the sentiment; however, I feel that it ignores the many examples that have occurred between WWII and today. I will admit that determining what events should classify as genocide can be difficult; however, below are examples of others that could be included:

  • Soon after WWII in 1947, the partition of India, in which a newly formed border was created separating the Hindus and Sikhs, resulted in 500,000 to 1,000,000 dead because they were on the wrong side of that border.
  • In Australia, between 1900 and 1970, twenty to twenty-five thousand Aboriginal children were taken from their homes and separated from their families. Some now call them the “Stolen Generation.” (As a side note, the way that Native Americans were treated when European first settled in North America can also be interpreted as genocide.)
  • In Pakistan, during the Bangladesh War in 1971, there are estimates ranging from 300,000 to 3 million people killed by the Pakistan Army. Targeted during this killing include the Bengali intellectual, cultural, and political elite along with Hindus.
  • The Rwanda genocide in 1994 is estimated to have killed 800,000 people. This genocide, lasting 100 days, was performed by the Hutu militias against Tutsis and pro-peace Hutus.
  • The first president of Equatorial Guinea, Francisco Macias Nguema, killed or exiled up to 1/3 of the country’s population (80,000 out of 300,000 are estimated to have been killed).
  • The Khmer Rouge from Cambodia, whom I commented on in an early entry, are responsible for killing about 1.7 million Cambodians between 1975 and 1979.
  • Indonesian occupation of East Timor resulted in approximately 100,000 deaths between 1974 and 1999. Many of deaths resulted from malnutrition and it is rumored that the Indonesian military used starvation as its main tool of “exterminating” the East Timorese.

These are only a handful of examples of mass killings that have occurred since the events that took place in and around Germany under the Nazi regime. I agree that the history of the Holocaust should be retold to try to prevent it in the future; however, I also feel we need to try to recognize its signs and instead of learning about how it affected history, learn how it can be prevented in the future.

In addition, most museums I visited did not recall other examples of mass killings and I feel when the take-away message is to prevent something similar form happening again, explaining that it already has will only help emphasize the point.

Never Again sign at Dachau

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“I am haunted by humans.”

I get up early and make my outside the city via train and towards the Dachau Concentration Camp. I have an idea of what to expect from museum exhibits I’d seen, books I’d read, and explanations I’d heard. However, soon after arriving, acquiring an audio tour, and making my way through the camp, I realize I had very little idea of what to expect. In terms of raw facts, most of what I am learning is not new, but my my reaction to the material is much stronger than ever before. Walking down a road that so many others had done before knowing that they might not survive long enough to walk back in the other direction, standing in a barracks that housed suffering prisoners whose life dreams had been condensed to being able to survive, and seeing images of dead bodies being rounded up by a tractor just steps away and only 60 to 70 years ago all make my stomach tighten and my neck tense. How can this have happened? How can someone get away with this, and on such a large scale?

I can barely look at the crematoria that were used to dispose of the dead bodies. These methods prove that killing had become so regular that the disposal of the dead was more troublesome than the killing itself. And eventually, even cremation was too burdensome leading to the use of mass graves. The scale of such murder makes it hard for me to understand each death on an individual basis until I walk around and begin reading stories of some of its prisoners. Each story is so real and seemingly so normal until their entrance into the camp. After this experience, I am not sure what to write to fully recall my emotions in the future; however, capturing such an experience with words may be nearly impossible. This explains why I was unprepared at the beginning of today despite having learned much about the Holocaust before my arrival.

The Dachau Concentration Camp was the first one opened in Germany back in 1933. It later served as a model and training ground for future Nazi concentration camps. The camp contains records of over 200,000 prisoners and almost 32,000 deaths between 1933 and 1945.

Summing up many of my emotions after my visit, the last line from a book titled “The Book Thief” that I pick up at the shop outside Dachau reads, “I am haunted by humans.”

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A Friendly Welcome

Feeling more at home while traveling can be a challenge. Sleeping in hostels, constantly meeting new people, and not having go-to restaurants or cafes can be fun but also tiring. Although Stockholm is about 5500 miles (8800 kilometers) from San Francisco, I met up with several friends, had a chance to try their go-to restaurants, and even enjoyed some home cooking. I can’t thank them enough for making my Swedish experience feel so comfortable. I met up with Siri, an old friend from University, for a quick work break. I had dinner and drinks with Liina and Mikael, a couple I met while scuba diving in Bali just a couple months ago. They took me to a great restaurant where I had a chance to sample some traditional Swedish foods while we caught up on each other’s lives. And I stayed in Linkoping for two nights with Matilda, whom I’d met in southern Cambodian caves. When I arrived at the train stations, Matilda and Jesper, whom I’d also met before, were waiting with a picnic packed, and we went to a nearby park to play volleyball. They had brought me several traditional Swedish beers from around the country as well as a couple very Swedish dishes. One new dish I tried was cut up raw fish swimming in various sauces. Out of all the sauces, I think I liked the mustard-based one the most. And finally, they brought me some Swedish chocolate, which was the perfect ending to our picnic in the park. Thank you so much to everyone for going out of your way and making me feel comfortable!

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Calorie to Kronor Ratio

The Swedish Kronor didn’t go as far as I was hoping. Even the public transportation is expensive in Stockholm. As a result, to stay on budget, I try to maintain a high calorie to kronor ratio, and ideally about 10 to 20 calories/kronor. (One US dollar is about 6 Swedish Kronor.) This meant that along with finding cheap restaurants, I also utilize my hostel’s kitchen after finding a local grocery store.  One afternoon, having groceries in my bag works out to my advantage as I find a great park bench and have a lunch of different Swedish snacks.

My Picnic Spot

Speaking of finding food, the first night I didn’t feel hungry until it was beginning to get dark at which point I venture outside in search of something to eat. Because it was already almost 11pm on a Sunday night, everything was closed. I luckily found some communal pasta at my hostel and cooked myself a very simple but filling meal.

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Sounding Swedish

Hej.

My Swedish vocabulary is a bit limited. If trying to use some of my Swedish in a sentence, it might come out something like while I was sitting in my poang under the kallt and next to my expedit, which was holding my drink, I began to feel a bit tired and was thinking when it would be time for me to lounge on the karlstad or lay on the ektorp. Now, if I said that while standing in an IKEA, people wouldn’t think twice and that sentence might actually make sense.

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Hammam

At half ten in the evening, I set off to a hammam in Fez’ Old Medina. I follow one of my riad’s staff in order to not get lost ten times before either finding my destination or eventually giving up and returning back. The narrow alley ways all over the medina are hard to traverse competently in daylight yet alone under the stars. Before arriving at the hammam, we stop at a small counter to purchase a “hammam kit”, which is a small bag of supplies that will soon prove useful. There is a brush of semi-dull plastic needles, a rough rag shaped like a small bag, and some Berber soap, which is a black soap with a gelatinous consistency.

Upon arriving at the hammam, we enter through a small door into a steamy changing room. The whole bath house consists of three rooms, with each room hotter and more humid than the last as they get farther from the front door. I am happy to notice that there are only locals using this hammam because it means I will receive an authentic experience as well as I will pay closer to local prices. Since I only plan to go once, I decide to also get a “massage.” The word is in quotes because that is what it was advertised as, but I am not sure that I can actually call it as such. Before the massage, I venture to the third and hottest room and am instructed to lie on the very hot floor, occasionally getting up to refill my buckets with hot water to pour on top of myself. I can no longer differentiate between the hot water poured on me and my self-produced sweat. After staying in that third room for what seems like much longer than it is, I move to the second/middle room for my massage. The masseuse uses the supplies I had just purchased to eliminate any possible dead skin that I may be carrying around. The sensation is of sandpaper being rubbed over my body in an anything but gentle manner.

I finish the massage, rinsing the soap and dead skin from my body, and move back to the first and coolest room to wait for the same nice Riad staff member to come and guide me back through the maze. I do not stop sweating for around 30 minutes following the conclusion of my Riad experience. I feel clean yet also like I had just been vigorously exercising. I feel tired yet my body tingles with energy. And I feel relaxed yet still slightly tensed from the sand paper massage. I am happy I saw and experienced a hammam, but I will probably wait some time before jumping back into one.

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Riad Verus, Fez

This traditional and authentic-feeling Riad set near the edge of the Fez Old Medina was as welcoming as any hostel I’ve stayed at yet. When I arrive to the front door after a bit of wandering, I am immediately greeted by name from an individual standing outside. This first impression sets the mood and I am ready for a great (even if short) time at the Riad Verus. The other travelers are very nice and all had unique and entertaining stories to share, but the staff’s friendliness and openness is what set this Riad apart.

Sunset at Riad Verus

On the first evening here, I listen to the beating of drums coming from the roof terrace and am drawn to them. I venture my way up to the roof and find a staff member and several travelers playing while watching the sun set over the Medina. Eventually a drum rotates around the circle to me and I start cautiously joining the group’s beat. Noor, one of the Riad’s staff members, is leading the session and I try to match some of his beats. After starting to feel more comfortable and gaining a little confidence, I step up to many of Noor’s challenges as he plays harder beats, and I eventually am able to find most of them if given enough time. The session then moves from a copy-follow format to trying to play complementary rhythms. With my hands unused to the drums wrath, they begin to glow red, but not red enough to make me stop as I am starting to really enjoy my lesson. We continue to groove for about two hours before eventually disbanding.

Sitting on the terrace with the sky casting new colors across its few clouds, playing these Moroccan drums made me feel right at home in Morocco.

Window in Riad Verus

Inside Riad Verus

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Here’s Looking at You, Kid

While touring southern Morocco, we arrive at a new place, either by train or by bus, and are immediately accosted by many of the local youth. They hand you “gifts” only later to request dirham in return. I try to hand back their present to me, and they refuse. I say no thank you and they shrug. I smile and they smile. With no other option I motion the gift in their direction, and then place the gift neatly on a nearby rock and return their shrug with one of my own. And sometimes, the gift is not tangible, but instead, it is their presumed assistance in helping me find my way. They ask if I know where I am going, and I sometimes lie so that they will not point 100 meters away to the entrance of my destination and then request a tip. I would love to engage on a non-monetary level, but unfortunately, at least in Marrakech, such a wish may have to remain only a wish.