I’ve been used to getting odd looks and having people think I’m an oddball for a long time for various reasons, but the biggest ones often come when people hear that I want to see places like Auschwitz. They always say that places like that are “too sad and depressing.”
The Japanese stuffed up to a dozen prisoners in this little dungeon in Davao (Philippines) during WWII.
If you’re one of those people, I understand…to a certain degree. Travel is generally thought of as one of the happy aspects of life, and seeing sad and depressing things isn’t really part of it.
Only recently have I found myself explaining why I am drawn to sad and depressing places, especially those related to the Nazis and the Holocaust – places where the arguably most documented crimes in modern history took place. I feel that this subject is important and should be brought to light because of the 2 main reasons why I am drawn to places that are “too sad and depressing.”
Maybe my reasons will change your mind and if they don’t, that’s okay. Of course, I don’t just see the sad and depressing stuff; balance is important, and it makes me appreciate the good stuff on a different level. This brings me to my first reason. ↓
1) Gratitude and Happiness
An original Star of David a local Jew was forced to wear in Cologne, Germany.
Don’t get me wrong – I was NOT happy when my feet were in exact places where Jews were forced to live in ghettos and eventually forcibly removed to their deaths like in Chisinau, Vilnius, or Warsaw.
My heart sank and ached when I saw an original Star of David badge that a local Jew was forced to wear in Cologne’s former Gestapo headquarters, which is now the NS Dokumentationzentrum.
Chills ran up and down my spine when I found what’s left of the Warsaw Ghetto walls.
My stomach only turned, flipped, and sank the way it did when I laid eyes on the original railroad boxcar that transported Jews to Treblinka at the Holocaust Museum in St. Petersburg (Florida) when I was 16. I knew about it before my visit, and although I didn’t know where it was in the museum, I knew when it was coming because I could smell it from afar. When I turned the corner and saw it, my eyes watered.
I saw the people being jammed inside to be transported to their deaths. Even though the smell was so powerful that I gagged, I actually wished that I could have climbed into the car stuffed with others like sardines with the door slammed shut and locked.
Imagine being imprisoned and wonderful what the other side – the free side – was like.
Travel, in general, is thought of as one of the happy aspects of life, but seeing all these sort of things makes me grateful for everything I have on a completely different level. Believe it or not, seeing such sad and depressing places makes me a happier person. They remind me to the fullest extent how incredibly blessed I am.
I had the honour of meeting Holocaust survivor Eva Olsson when she came to my alma mater, Trent University, to speak about her experiences, and that changed my life. ↓
Me with Eva Olsson 10 years ago in March 2007.
I’ll never forget what she said to me when I met her shortly after she arrived in my hometown, Kapuskasing, later that year to speak. After having spent the whole day driving up north, I asked her, “Did you have a good day?”
I will never forget her response. Without any hesitation whatsoever, she looked directly into my eyes with a gentle smile and softly but strongly said, “Becky, every day I wake up is a good day.”
I always replay that short conversation in my mind whenever I’m having a bad day or just feeling stressed.
A few days before my visit to the KGB Museum in Vilnius and to the NS Dokumentationzentrum in Cologne, I’d had a couple of really bad days, but as I was wandering through those museums, especially the prisons in the basements, I realized (again) that so many people dream of having my bad day. Eva’s voice telling me that every day she wakes up is a good day popped back into my mind.
My bad days, in the grand scheme of things, are peanuts compared to those who were persecuted by the Nazis or the KGB.
Looking down the prison corridor in Vilnius, Lithuania that both the Gestapo and the KGB used.
2) My DUTY as a World Citizen
I had fully awakened to my countless blessings was when I first felt the urge to bear witness, and I feel very strongly that it is my duty as a world citizen – as a fellow human being – to bear witness.
The first time I felt the urge to bear witness was when I was 13 in the eighth grade, thanks to one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, Mrs. Adamson. She taught us about the Nazis’ persecution of the Jews through Anne Frank. I was flabbergasted that a girl, who was exactly my age, had to hide from the world in fear for her life simply because of who she was.
I found it very easy to relate to her because of the bigotry, prejudice, and racism I had experienced being Japanese but of course, having been born in Canada in 1985, I’ve never had to deal with anything even remotely like what European Jews had because of the Nazis. I knew that I’d never have to worry about going through anything like she did, and I still can’t imagine experiencing that level of persecution.
This actual arm-band that the Nazis required Polish Jews to wear is at the POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw.
I’m so grateful that I have opportunities to bear witness to these dark periods of world history this way. I want to walk in not only Anne Frank and Eva Olsson’s footsteps, but in all those whose lives were so unfairly affected or cut short. It is important that that as a citizen of this world – simply as a fellow human being – to bear witness.
Reading books, watching documentaries, going to museums, and meeting survivors are excellent and educational, but nothing is as effective or poignant as seeing it with your own eyes and walking in their footsteps.
It’s just like how looking at travel photos, though incredible they may be, is NOT THE SAME as being there in the flesh and seeing everything with your own eyes.
You leave with more knowledge – firsthand knowledge – and willingness to keep bearing witness and to do whatever you can to prevent this from ever happening again.
The Chisinau Ghetto Memorial I stumbled upon.
Did I convince you at all? Even a teeny-weeny bit?
If not, I understand why you don’t want to see a place like Auschwitz. I’m finally going in May. I know it’s going to shatter me, but it will be worth all the heartache. Nothing I feel can compare to what all those millions of people suffered just for simply being.
This must never happen again.
I must bear witness.
The post Why I Visit Places that are “Too Sad and Depressing” appeared first on Trekking with Becky.