The last week of my “Nightmare through Europe” tour included Hitler’s devastating actions made into tourist attractions. I was in Germany. Our tour arrived at a concentration camp, where I was shown a horrible film that I wish I had never seen. I stood in the actual rooms where millions of Jews had been murdered. I already had a fever and felt miserable, but now I felt like vomiting. It was so far beyond sad that there were just no words. Silence seemed like the only appropriate response.
In the city of Munich, I saw the Glockenspiel chiming the hour, with the dancing figures coming out of the clock and twirling around like a huge wind-up toy. I walked by a clock maker’s shop, where the largest cookoo clock was located.
The day was damp and dreary, but we went on a cruise of the Rhine River. We passed several castles along the way, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be magical and beautiful had I traveled in the summer instead of the spring. The rain drenched me to the skin.
Later we went to the Netherlands, where we saw more of Hilter’s devastation. I looked at the real place where Anne Frank and her family had lived. The secret passageway behind the bookshelf led to the attic. The rooms were so small up there, it would have been like living in a closet. Needless to say, when I took the ferry boat back to England, I was glad to be home.
