Dachau

I know this may sound silly, but I did not realize how much WWII history there would be in Europe. Every city I've been to has a memorial. Every tour I've been on points out a site where something significant happened, or where a building was damaged. In America, we hear and learn about the war consistently. My grandfather fought in the Philippines. I have known survivors. But the aftermath is not so continuously in our face.
On the walking tour in Amsterdam, I made a friend, and for lack of other things to do, decided to follow him to Munich. It was exciting, taking a night train on Saturday, arriving at 7 am and checking into the hostel. But then I saw the fliers for the tour. I felt like I wasn't prepared for it, and I was worried about its effect on me, and if it would still be appropriate to have fun after visiting it. So at first I declined, and went on the walking tour with Dan. Halfway through, I realized Munich was just another pretty European city, and that somehow fate brought me to an opportunity, so I joined the next tour.
I still don't know how to describe how I felt. If anything it was surreal, that after a week of partying, here I was at a horrific place with people I didn't know. But the camp itself is hauntingly beautiful. Yes, we hear the stories and we know the atrocities. But being at the place itself, it's hard to apply the pictures to what you see. All the original barracks were destroyed, and the ones that remain are models. But it's too sanitized. How can I possibly imagine what went on if all I see is grass and sky? Only in the crematorium did I actually freak out, envisioning the bodies hanging in front of the ovens, staring at the place that would burn them once they died.
I didn't freak out in Anne Frank's house, because there it focused on her life, honoring her in the most beautiful way possible. And every time I learn a lesson about the tragedies of the Jewish people, it merely causes me to think of the future, and that the point of learning these is that am yisrael chai, the Jewish people live. That my people are free enough that I can go drinking at a biergarten in Munich with an Australian without fear of my life, knowing that when I'm older I will continue these traditions with a family of my own.
However optimistic I may be, I can say this with certainty: I NEVER want to go back to a death camp.