But despite and maybe even because of the self-hatred, I picked up the backpack and saw that nothing was damaged, flipped back my greasy hair, and marched on. Until my suitcase flipped again. So I decided to march on at least until the next major airport. And only if the travel insurance would cover it.
For the next two weeks I made discoveries about hand washing laundry, eating copious amounts of pork, rusty medieval keys vs. modern keys when it comes to broken doors, how to feel like you’re alone in a crowd full of sweaty tourists, and pushing aside exhaustion in moments of crucial importance - ones I had waited for my entire life. When I met up with the Intrepid tour, seeing as how it was a small relaxed group that aims to blend in with culture rather than drive by it, all the while being environmentally conscious, I immediately knew it would be a good experience. And I was right.
So I saw the stately elegance of Vienna, walked on the streets of composers who have shaped the world (and me),
(on the left, Mozart drinking Starbucks outside the opera house)
cities like the beautiful and hidden Cesky Krumlov,
Krakow,
and Budapest.
The concentration camps of Auschwitz and Birkenau were what I expected. Surreal, and not just for the horror that I’ve learned about every year in Jewish school, but of the other paradoxes I had not fully realized before. Hatred with calculation of not just murder, but suffering of the most extreme kind. The absolute worst of human nature. Hell on Earth.
(on the right, the crematorium that was blown up by the Nazis right before the liberation)
But on a better note, speaking of earth, perhaps the biggest accomplishment for myself as a result of this trip is…drum roll…NATURE. I was in two different mountain town places and went on two half-day hikes, three four hour bike rides and even ENJOYED it. I went from this:
To this
I actually did enjoy the several hikes, bike rides, and more than ten minutes at a time spent in the woods, and even left wanting MORE. This trip must have some kind of magical power over me. When I went back to the city from nature, it was even kind of sad.
At one point in a city, I bought a hot dog from a man from India, and instead of just a hot dog I got his entire life story. Realizing that he is a) my age, and b) makes hot dogs all day as a means of survival and to fund his family back in India, I looked down at the glistening piece of mystery meat and felt once again a strong sense of failure.
Here I saw the cycle that in an effort to see the world, which in turn makes me understand my place in it, which in turn helps me to contribute to it, I feel a little like a selfish horrible person taking advantage of a lesser privileged human being as I walk onto my next tourist destination, somehow using my freedom as an American to take advantage of those who suffer because of people like me. I know more than ever now how much I want to give back somehow.
But I also learned on this trip about cutting myself a little slack, giving up control, and embracing my vulnerability. After all, I didn’t know what to expect. I planned as well as I could, threw myself in head first, knowing that if all goes as planned and I forge a career in the coming years, I might never have an opportunity like this again.
I was elated to step off the plane and be home, though less elated to realize that reality is going to hit hard, seeing more than ever how much the world is in need of repair. Now, my next task is to use the experiences of this trip and this year to put into art and forge the path for my future. On my list of things to do before I die, I take my pink highlighter, made in India, and put a nice check mark next to Europe.
