7 November —
Life in London has been going very well. I’ve been adjusting positively
to my classes, going rock climbing twice a week, skateboarding twice a
week, staying social and meeting new people. I’ve started to cook
vegetarian and have gotten accustomed to budgeting, shopping, cooking
and cleaning for myself. Yet I could tell I wanted to see and experience
more on this journey abroad then a life in London. So, when reading
week came I decided it was time to get out.
First I had to figure out where I wanted to go and then make the plan. My grandma was born in Berlin and was forced to leave when she was a young girl. As a Jew, many of my distant relatives were likely killed in concentration camps in Germany. I felt a strong connection to Germany because it used to be the home of my family and my people before we were kicked out and murdered. Additionally, a friend of mine from Lewis & Clark was studying in Munich and a friend from Queen Mary was planning a short trip to Berlin. It worked so I could spend the weekend in Munich and then fly up to Berlin for part of the week. The times overlapped so I booked my tickets, found a hostel in Berlin and went off on the trip.
The reality of traveling on your own hit me fast. It turned out I accidentally booked a ticket back from Berlin on Wednesday. I needed to be in class that morning. For whatever reason, even though this is the only week Queen Mary has no class, we have Lewis & Clark’s class Wednesday and we also have LC events planned all weekend we needed to be back for. Needless to say, I was very, very annoyed. But I am a student first, so I spent an extra forty-five euros and booked my ticket back from Berlin (I thought) on Tuesday. Only once I was on the trip did I realize that I accidentally booked my ticket back from Munich and not Berlin! So, I had messed up twice and did not have the money to buy a new ticket on such late notice. I ended up staying an extra night at the hostel and going home on the original ticket and just missing class. When traveling on your own, you sometimes just need to evaluate where you are at, take a step back and move on with the best options. These are skills that I’m happy to have learned young and in college rather than out on my own.
Munich was excellent and I got a picture into authentic German culture. I ate German food, saw modern German art, went to German bars and clubs and learned how to say “thank you” (danka) and “hello” (hallo). Modern-day Germany is a culture so far removed from my own culture and obviously one that I can never understand. To go back to a country that removed your grandparents and enjoy its culture and life is an act of rebellion in my opinion. To simply exist in a space where you would have been murdered if you were there seventy years earlier is quite the feeling.
Berlin continued with this theme as I went to the Jewish Museum. I went alone and at night, which I highly recommend. The Holocaust exhibits are disorienting, confusing and abstract. They’re designed to make you feel uncomfortable, out of place and scared the same way my ancestors felt when the Holocaust happened. The most touching piece of artwork for me was a garden outside that had 48 huge stone pillars that represented different cities Jews fled to after the Holocaust. Inside the museum, but a part of the exhibit, were the names of cities where they fled to. New York was there of course and I just remember walking up to where the name of the city was written down, touching it and having a small cry. For all my heritage to be so closely wrapped in this space was so moving. The museum ultimately spits you out onto a beautiful garden that reminded me of the garden at my Hebrew School. It is filled with trees and grass and shows that no matter what happens, no matter how we are moved or killed, life still rebuilds and finds a way.
The trees in the garden of the museum, the nightclubs in Munich, the rhythm of the Berlin subways and buses, they all made it clear that Germany is a country that moves with life. It does not let its destructive past define it and instead it moves on to a better inclusive and exciting society. By traveling to the land of my ancestors, I felt this reconnection and understanding that life does and will move ahead even in the face of the purest forms of hate.
First I had to figure out where I wanted to go and then make the plan. My grandma was born in Berlin and was forced to leave when she was a young girl. As a Jew, many of my distant relatives were likely killed in concentration camps in Germany. I felt a strong connection to Germany because it used to be the home of my family and my people before we were kicked out and murdered. Additionally, a friend of mine from Lewis & Clark was studying in Munich and a friend from Queen Mary was planning a short trip to Berlin. It worked so I could spend the weekend in Munich and then fly up to Berlin for part of the week. The times overlapped so I booked my tickets, found a hostel in Berlin and went off on the trip.
The reality of traveling on your own hit me fast. It turned out I accidentally booked a ticket back from Berlin on Wednesday. I needed to be in class that morning. For whatever reason, even though this is the only week Queen Mary has no class, we have Lewis & Clark’s class Wednesday and we also have LC events planned all weekend we needed to be back for. Needless to say, I was very, very annoyed. But I am a student first, so I spent an extra forty-five euros and booked my ticket back from Berlin (I thought) on Tuesday. Only once I was on the trip did I realize that I accidentally booked my ticket back from Munich and not Berlin! So, I had messed up twice and did not have the money to buy a new ticket on such late notice. I ended up staying an extra night at the hostel and going home on the original ticket and just missing class. When traveling on your own, you sometimes just need to evaluate where you are at, take a step back and move on with the best options. These are skills that I’m happy to have learned young and in college rather than out on my own.
Munich was excellent and I got a picture into authentic German culture. I ate German food, saw modern German art, went to German bars and clubs and learned how to say “thank you” (danka) and “hello” (hallo). Modern-day Germany is a culture so far removed from my own culture and obviously one that I can never understand. To go back to a country that removed your grandparents and enjoy its culture and life is an act of rebellion in my opinion. To simply exist in a space where you would have been murdered if you were there seventy years earlier is quite the feeling.
Berlin continued with this theme as I went to the Jewish Museum. I went alone and at night, which I highly recommend. The Holocaust exhibits are disorienting, confusing and abstract. They’re designed to make you feel uncomfortable, out of place and scared the same way my ancestors felt when the Holocaust happened. The most touching piece of artwork for me was a garden outside that had 48 huge stone pillars that represented different cities Jews fled to after the Holocaust. Inside the museum, but a part of the exhibit, were the names of cities where they fled to. New York was there of course and I just remember walking up to where the name of the city was written down, touching it and having a small cry. For all my heritage to be so closely wrapped in this space was so moving. The museum ultimately spits you out onto a beautiful garden that reminded me of the garden at my Hebrew School. It is filled with trees and grass and shows that no matter what happens, no matter how we are moved or killed, life still rebuilds and finds a way.
The trees in the garden of the museum, the nightclubs in Munich, the rhythm of the Berlin subways and buses, they all made it clear that Germany is a country that moves with life. It does not let its destructive past define it and instead it moves on to a better inclusive and exciting society. By traveling to the land of my ancestors, I felt this reconnection and understanding that life does and will move ahead even in the face of the purest forms of hate.
—Dan Koster