Berlin, Germany.
H with our guide, Tom. Tom was the best! He’s not giving H rabbit ears. He’s pointing at the sculpture of Bonnhoeffer. Really!
Berlin, Germany.
There we are! In front of Dietrich Bonnhoeffer’s church. Happy and exhausted at the same time.
Berlin, Germany.
The church where Dietrich Bonnhoeffer preached.
Berlin, Germany.
A beautiful memorial, honoring those from this neighborhood in Berlin, who lost their lives in the concentration camps.
Berlin, Germany.
On either side of the train tracks were scores of these metal plates — a memorial to Holocaust victims. The plates included the date the train departed, the number of Jewish people packed into the cars, the city where they were being picked up, and the concentration camp to which they were delivered.
Like so many others, I have been haunted by the Holocaust for decades — since I read The Diary of Anne Frank. I will always be baffled by “man’s inhumanity to man.” Standing here on these train tracks was an emotional experience. There was an emptiness there, and I felt it in my soul.
These train tracks ran right behind a neighborhood. People could see the trains from their kitchen windows; their neighbors being forced to board with just the clothes on their backs. “That’s the thing,” our guide said to me. “It was all happening in plain sight.”
Berlin, Germany.
Train tracks to the concentration camps.
Berlin, Germany.
As soon as we arrived in Berlin — after an eight (or was it nine?) hour flight — we were met by Thomas who took us on a tour of Dietrich Bonnhoeffer sites. I rode in the back of the taxi and, through the window, I snapped these shots of my first look at Berlin.
Germany. Breakfast.
Munich, Germany.
Game night at Weisses Brauhaus.
Garmisch-Partenkirschen, Germany.
In his element. Waiting for the bus to ski The Alps.
