17 June 2005 Friday
Nurenburg
It did not occur to me until Bamburg that we were approaching this notorious place, and in fact, when I pulled the curtain aside yesterday morning, it was appropriately cloud covered. Edge to edge clouds. Grim.
We had a young professorial fellow come aboard as we were docked at Nurnberg and provide an excellent lecture on the events leading up to WWII and the time directly afterwards. Deep memories of European Government with Susie Bourque Gov 210B. So this young man skillfully brought to light details of post WWI Germany and the conditions that led to ripening of the charismatic mad man. I asked several people whether they were aware of this history, because of course this was exactly what we were taught. Some knew pieces but the great majority lived through the World War II years as young kids or teenagers or young adults, and the understanding came later and the learning of the historical details came after that. It was a chilling assembly of puzzle pieces, and the familiar picture comes clear. Humiliation of WWI, desperate economic situation, a charismatic leader who was at the right place saying the right things, hypnotic promises, order and purpose, German Teutonic pride and voila, the systematic destruction of everything that was not perfect in one megalomaniac's eyes.
You must know that as we were approaching Nurnberg, I toyed with the thought that I would stay on the ship rather than touch ground here - silly thought. Nurnberg had been historically the meeting place of princes, a place of impressive power. Perfect for Hitler who loved to refer back historically to justify himself at any and all times.
Incidentally I looked up to the window to my right and found that the bank of the canal has suddenly widened by several hundred yards, and the bank on that side is no longer a Jeremy Fisher paradise of clumping flowering bushes. A line of trees 10 meters from the bank and then a neat field of mowed grasses before the edge of the pine forest rises up until the very top of the hill creating a spiky edge to the light blue sky. The same on the other side now.
Bus to Nurnberg and we pass through the industrial area and then into the small city and then to the Dokumentation Center. An unfinished structure built to the shape and proportions of the Colosseum, Hitler with his notorious architect Schpiel (sp) appropriated that chilling severe architectural form. Repetitive, endless, predictable and obedient. Buildings that were once headquarters of the German army, now immigration offices.
We drove to the Zeppelin Field with its stadium and structures for the elaborate parades of obeisance that were part of the Nazi ritual. I will do anything you say. We love you and only you, they said. There was construction going on, and chain link fence and large equipment but in our minds we could still see the rows and rows of uniformed beautifully formed Aryan ideals, shouting in unison, marching, offering up everything they were. I am still somewhat freaked out. I picked up a small jagged rock, put it in my pocket and felt its edges from time to time throughout our day.
On to Courtroom #600. The Nurnberg trials took place between Nov 1945 and October 1946 in a building near the medieval portion of the city. In the room that became famous through the films of the time, we sat in the audience seats facing the place where 21 Nazi leaders were tried. A handsome young 20 something tanned blond Aryan type, one whom Hitler would have idealized, painted the entire picture in flawless English. And we sat speechless. Excellent questions from some in our group. Later the sepia photographs of the area brought it home once again. 21 defendants. Three important characters missing: Hitler, Goebbels and Himmler- already burning in some hell whose fires were stoked by darkskinned Jews and minorities.
I had a dream that night. It was one of those tangled dreams that comes of a trip that goes on and on while travelling through land with a black history. I dreamt that you had fallen asleep while driving, and though I was sitting beside you, I could not wake you up at all. At all. I took the wheel and pulled the car into a restaurant that was closing down and persuaded the waitresses to at least let me make a phone call. I don't know whether you did wake up at that time but everything was harried and crumbled and strange.
Which oddly coincides with the dying of both our watches. It stands to reason that since both batteries were replaced at the same time, that both should also die a simultaneous death. And so they have. Now that wasn't going to be a problem under any other circumstances. We are however facing the last tricky part of the trip: the coordination of the trip back home. Now, an intrepid passenger might try to negotiate this sans hours minutes and seconds, however I do not think that I am one of these. Thus I might have discovered another small task... how to find the very least expensive timepiece possible for these next two days.
The engine of the ship rattles and shakes. We are sliding on the narrow Main/Danube Canal. At Bamburg we left the Main River and took a bit of a southward bend on this water path that is the mixture of the Main and the Danube waters. It reminds me of the land of Jeremy Fisher, Jemima Puddle-Duck and Toad of Toad Hall. Tally ho!
Trees high and sudden from the banks of the little river, bushes wild and untamed. We have grown very accustomed to floating purposefully on this greenish breenish water with a screen of upright Teutonic pines behind. I have taken virtually no photographs of the land as we pass and thus commit to some today.
Today I will go on the optional tour to the Danube Gorge, just a morning trot to a place that includes an early beer tasting. Not only is this supposed to be beer drinking before lunch, but it happens several times in this brewery and is to accompany by a tasting of white sausage from Regensberg. If we had tasted the three in a row sausages of Nurnberg, we were supposed to have answered the age old question: Which is the better sausage? The one from Regensberg or the one from Bamburg? As a non-meat eater, I will be unable to enlighten anyone on any of these important questions.
posted by Articulate Pen @ 4:47 PM
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