This afternoon our orientation program brought us to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas). I had visited the memorial once before, but had never checked out the underground visitor’s center.  I read my way along a long hall outlining the history of the Nazi’s attempt to exterminate the Jews during World War II and then entered a dark and quiet room.  The only light came from rectangles on the ground which illuminated quotes from letters and diaries of people who experienced the horrors of the Holocaust, some of whom survived, but most of whom did not.

As I moved around the darkness I was overcome with a grief that surprised me.  But why did it surprise me?  Did I expect to feel less saddened at a memorial than I did at Sachsenhausen and Auschwitz?  Unlike other members of our group, my family did not suffer in the concentration camps.  Why was I feeling such grief?  In this place?  On this day?  I do not have a solid answer to these questions, except that it has to do with a sadness that such things can come to pass in the world we live in.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in this alternate universe I like to call “long-term hotel living,” namely trying to do normal things like my laundry and working out.  Even so, it is hard to feel too settled.  I envy those fellows who are spending the year in Berlin and are able to transition bit by bit into their new apartments and get a head start on feeling at home here.  But for now, I feel more confident every day in my ability to maneuver around this country and around this language.

Ready for Thursday?