The past couple of weeks have passed in a whirlwind and thinking back on what I actually did, only two big things stand out … and since I have been accused of neglecting my blog, I guess I should talk about them, hur?

Shopping spree: Ewokmama won a $1500 Style Me Makeover from Momversation in late November and invited me to join her fun-filled day. After a brief latte & cinnamon roll/blueberry hazelnut muffin stop, we spent five hours in the Daly City Target with Rob Morhaim and Daphne Brogdon picking out some amazing new work outfits for Ewokmama. Ewokmama had her makeup done by a very kind and hard-working Boots consultant which only enhanced her inner beauty. Seeing my best friend’s confidence change from morning to afternoon was probably the best part of the day. It’s one thing to hear “you look great!” from your best friend and your fiance, but when stylists, Target employees and strangers comment on how amazingly gorgeous you are, it has different clout. I don’t know that there is person in my life who deserved something like this more than Ewokmama.

Thanksgiving trip to Oregon: on Wednesday I traveled back to Oregon to visit my family and a couple of friends for the Thanksgiving holiday. For the most part, I had a really great time. Visiting with my parents, sister, two aunts, an uncle, Gramps, two cousins and a second-cousin (who roped me into performing an after-dinner “I got maracas!” show as a backup dancer (complete with castanets)) was emotionally rewarding as well as tiring. Everyone wanted to know details about my move to the Bay, including hearing about TheMister. I’ve not seen my family as happy for me in years and that made the trip worth it. I saw @SaraMD and @Geogon, ate a ton of food (including MEXICAN FOOD!) and enjoyed myself. The trip home was a little rough (didn’t feel so hot) but hugging Ewokmama and TheMister when I returned home was fantastic. I’m so thankful for my loved ones.

Other stuff:

• I’m moving from the House of Cracker in two weeks. It’s a bittersweet move as I know I’ll miss my Cracker family but it’s time for my own space and I can visit any time I want! My parents are going to bring my stored stuff from Oregon after Christmas and I’ll probably feel even more at home!
• Been spending a lot of time with TheMister and loving that. I am a damned lucky woman. He lent me A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers) and I am about 100 pages from finishing it. A fantastic book that I’m thankful he recommended. I also recently bought Spook (Mary Roach … she wrote Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers which I loved) and an out of print German book of essays on Dachau. I’m looking forward to reading both.
• I’ve been doing a lot of writing for WEGO Health lately. A lot of it. It feels really good to use my public health degree to do something positive for the Health Activist community. I’m particularly proud of my continuing series on the women’s health report. HIV – The number one killer of women, Women’s Health Report: let’s talk inequalities, Women’s Health Report: let’s talk about sex (baby), Women’s Health Report: it’s not all about sex, Women’s Health Report: let’s be fair now and Women’s Health Report: the failing systems are all entries about the recently released report on women’s health from the World Health Organization.
• Although I didn’t really attack my 109 in 2009, I’m going to make a list of 110 for 2010 like I’ve done before, with the big and the little things I’d like to accomplish in 2010, so I need to start on that, even if it’s just mentally! This year should be fun!

Image courtesy of Richard Nickel Jr/The Kingston Lounge

I recently came across a series of remarkable photographs that have given me pause for serious thought. The images are the work of a guerilla preservationist and urban archaeologist, Richard Nickel Jr., and they capture in haunting detail the current state of a place once known as the Georgia Lunatic Asylum in Milledgeville,  Georgia. What struck me immediately was how much these institutional corridors and claustrophobic rooms resembled the architecture I had seen at Dachau  concentration camp in Germany.

Dachau was the first concentration camp that the Nazi government built in Germany,  and it was constructed to isolate those who could not,  according to a German government press release issued on March 21, 1933,  be housed “in normal state prisons.”   Moreover,  its prisoners could not be released back into the general population because,  and again I’m quoting here from the 1933 press release, “they continue to agitate and create unrest when released.”  In other words,  Dachau was designed as a quarantine facility.

And who needed such quarantining?  Adolf Hitler had a very specific population in mind.  In Mein Kampf,  he likened a Jewish person to a type of germ–”a noxious bacillus [that] keeps spreading as soon as a favorable medium invites him.   And the effect of his existence is also like that of spongers; wherever he appears,  the host people dies out after a shorter or longer period of time.”   This hideous racism led directly to the death of six million European Jews.

Facilities such as the Georgia Lunatic Asylum were also clearly designed as places of quarantine,  isolating people with a wide range mental health issues (including the emotional trauma that resulted from sexual abuse and incest) from the general population. And many of the  inmates in these facilities perished far from the public eye.    Some historians suggest that 30,000 people lie buried today at the old Georgia  asylum,  an astonishing figure in my view.   This cemetery is,  according to one paper I read, the largest graveyard  in the world for people with mental issues.

How did so many people come to die in this institution?  Some historians cite rampant epidemics of typhoid and other infectious diseases.  This is may well be true.   But I personally think this is a tragic history that needs further exploring.

For further information on the history of Dachau,  see Barbara Distel and Ruth Jakusch (ed.), Concentration Camp Dachau 1933-1945 (Comite International de Dachau, Brussels: Munich, 1978.)

6 November, Friday.

We had an early flight, as usual, and so we passed out promptly on the plane and woke up in the beautiful land of Muenchen! The view as we swooped in to land was of green hills dotted with little Sound of Music looking houses (yes, I know it was in Austria, but they look similar!) and it was flat! After months of hilly Italy, it was a comforting reminder of home. As soon as we got into the airport, we took a train to Hauptbanhof station and dropped our bags at our hostel, then speeded to Marianplatz on the S-bann. First impression of Munich trains? Orderly. Clean. On time. People walked onto the escalator and filed into neat lines on the right if they were standing, and walked briskly up the left side if they were walking. I almost died of joy. Anyway, we hit Marienplatz and hooked up with the NewMunich free tour lead by Sonja, a delightful American-born student with a keen grasp of German and a sharp tongue. As the world’s largest glockenspiel started its tinny song, which has been rendered unrecognizable by virtue of being centuries out of tune, she gave a witty verbal explication of the little figures as they grated around the track (“And lo, Bavaria has defeated France! Every day for 208 years! That must be a record.”) and the little Bavarian knight dehorsed the little Lothingrian knight. Rather than waiting around for the cuckoo bird to emerge and croak a weak note, Sonja described a much more interesting version involving a rain of beer and then pantomimed the real spectacle before leading us into the courtyard of the Rathaus for a breezy history of Munich. We learned that it was founded around a monastery and suffered greatly by “that Austrian painter.”

We then rushed ahead to beat the Spanish (aka get in front of the Spanish tour group) but sadly were second to the Devil’s Footprint, a mysterious footprint in the Frauenkirche (church of our lady). Supposedly, the Devil saw the beautiful church being built and saw how dark it was when he entered, which made him hopeful. He told the architect that he would make him famous but he must not put any more windows in the church, for he wanted it to be dark and gloomy so that the people would worship him there. The architect agreed. When the church was finished, the Devil came back and saw how bright and beautiful it was. He confronted the architect, who told him frankly that he had not put any more windows in; when the Devil had visited the first time, all the windows were already in place, but they had been covered up to protect them from the construction. The Devil was so angry that he stomped his foot in the ground, and the print remains to this day. In actuality, Sonja says, the footprint is the architect’s, but that doesn’t stop thousands of people from measuring up their feet to see if they have the same shoe size as the Devil.

From there, we took a brief spin past some of the other buildings in the area. In one, a cannonball is stuck in the tower; when it was being rebuilt after the war, a man gave the workers the cannonball, which had stuck there before the building was destroyed, and told them that it belonged up there. Another was a beautiful church rebuilt by beer money, naturally, with a little memorial of a menorah in the ceiling tiles to commemorate the Jews who helped reconstruct it. We walked past many of the subtle memorials, of which there are many dozen, which quietly commemorate the victims of World War II; a sign to mark the site of an old successful department store of a Jewish owner, a golden line painted into the stones of Dodger’s Alley, where people would walk to avoid saluting a memorial that falsified in Hitler’s favor the story of a failed revolt, and many more. Unlike Berlin, where the massive memorial has become the place for people to sit on and stick gum to, Munich hopes with its memorials that people will see them and have questions, and perhaps through finding the information on their own, they will actually remember it. We walked after to the Viktualenmarkt, where sits Munich’s maypole. Every town in Germany has one and it is used both to display the trades of the city and for ambitious people to climb. If one town steals another town’s maypole, they can force that town to throw them a party. In the past, this once led to a massacre when the offended town refused to throw the festival. The tradition has not died. Even in 1995, the airport security found the airport maypole missing. Terrified that someone was able to steal such a huge structure out of the supposedly secure airport, they called the city police. There was laughter on the other end of the line. The police, having admitted to stealing the maypole, demanded that airport security throw them a party, and their demands were honored. We learned also of King Ludwig I, who instituted Oktoberfest when his wife demanded more than a measly field as her wedding present and wanted a party as well, and his grandson Ludwig II, who was mysteriously too friendly with Richard Wagner and mysteriously found dead in a lake after being diagnosed mad by a psychiatrist who had never met him, and who incidentally was found dead at the same time in the same lake.

After joke time with Sonja during our break, we recovered her pet (the Ukranian woman in the huge fluffy white hood) and headed past a large church with eight clocks on its tower, where a sign on the door cryptically forbids placing your hands in your pockets. When Sonja asked the old priest what this meant, the priest told her grumpily, “The devil is in your pants and God is watching.” Eep. After, we took a rest in Dodger’s Alley for the story of Hitler’s rise to power, from his earliest days as a traitor and a small-time revolter to the Beer Hall Putzch and the failed revolution that lead to the creation of Dodger’s Alley. The monument that drove so many people down this street was a plaque to the people who had died during this revolution, including three completely unrelated bystanders whom the Nazis styled as pro-Nazi heroes. And what did they claim of Hitler, who had run in terror from the revolt and stole an ambulance to escape? Oh, he just saw a fallen little girl and knew that he could drive her to the hospital faster than the drivers could. After this, we walked to the platform where two lions, one open-mouthed and one close-mouthed, were set by King Ludwig I to signify that people should be allowed to speak against their government. Ironic that it was also the place where Hitler delivered the speeches that stole the freedom from a nation and a people.

Our tour with Sonja was regrettably over, but our historic tour of Munich was still continuing. With Sonja’s guidance, we took the train to Dachau, the first of the concentration camps. The place is a gray, small enclosure in the midst of the Munich suburbs. The road up seems inconspicuous and innocuous, until you see the guard tower and the barbed wire still running along the riverbeds. Inside the walls, only one of the barracks still stands, but cinderblocks mark where the others stood in two long, uniform rows. Inside, the rooms preserve the tiny wooden beds where the prisoners were packed, overcrowded by many thousands of people. The main building, once plastered in huge letters with the lie that obedience is salvation, contains a museum of stories and artifacts, detailing the history of the camp from its creation to house German dissidents through its bloody twists until it was finally liberated. Dotted around are memorials to the dead: a small Russian orthodox chapel, a Protestant church, a Catholic altar, an underground Jewish grotto. On the outskirts is a convent, which existed even while Dachau was active. And then, the most sobering part. Crossing the river, the single muffled sound in the silent space, a path leads to the grove where still stands the crematorium. Silent, sober, we walked through the rooms where the prisoners were showered and stripped, and stood long in the small gray box where thousands of people were sprayed with lethal gas, then passed at last past the brick cremation ovens, with the ashes of many burnt bodies still clinging to the cracks. It was an unreal place and the only emotion that can crack through the silence and the numbness is disbelief, that this could have happened, that this could have been real.

We were not given long to reflect on our visit, for we had to rush back to our hostel to prepare for the opera, Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. We ended up running in dresses and painful shoes several blocks to the opera house to pick up our tickets and find our seats. And by seats, I mean that we were in the back in the standing section, for three hours, listening to a Russian opera with German subtitles. Between me and Marcelo reading the subtitles and all of us watching, we managed to cobble together enough to figure out the plot during the intermission. Our efforts were somewhat frustrated by the gay crossdressers who were playing with a blow-up doll at the back of the stage while Eugene lamented murdering his best friend, and did a dance number during Eugene’s meeting with his old love. Right-o. After the opera was over and we were done being muddled, we lost ourselves in the back of the opera house and emerged through a side door where a very confused usher showed us the way out. We found a lovely authentic German restaurant for dinner and delicious homemade wheat beer (I had pig knuckle; so good!) and were seated at a table with two German men, who told us all about sites to see in Munich. By this time it was late and we were thoroughly exhausted, so we headed back to our hostel and fell asleep to our snoring unknown roommates.

Best viewed in slideshow here.

Pra completar os posts da nossa viagem, vou falar de Munique (Munich, München, Monaco) e da Oktoberfest. Sempre que o maridex ouvia falar da Oktoberfest ele ficava doido hehe e sempre a gente planejou ir e ou iamos pro Brasil ou não tinhamos folga juntos e nunca dava, mas dessa vez tudo deu certinho! Até o fato da minha irmã já estar na Europa e da minha amiga estar na Itália e ter ido com o marido lá encontrar a gente! O motivo principal da ida lá era a Oktober mas pra mim se tornou a cidade toda pq apaixonei por tudo de Munich, mas assim TUDO! Os alemães que encontramos foram muito simpáticos e receptivos, há quem diga que seja por causa do festival e eles são mesmo assim por causa dos turistas e mais $$ pra eles e tal, but who cares?! Eu achei todos muito gentis e hospitaleiros. Não achamos dificil andar de metrô (U-BAHN) ou ônibus, vc chegando no aeroporto, vc pega um mapinha da cidade e tem todas a linhas de metrô e trem lá, então é só seguir. Ficamos no Hotel Flora e, apesar de ficar bem pertinho do centro e da estação principal eu não recomendo. Bom, a gente ficou lá bem por falta de opção mesmo, culpa nossa porque demoramos pra decidir qdo exatamente iriamos pra Alemanha e por conta da Oktober, os melhores hoteis já estavam lotados! O preço do que a gente ficou é super em conta mas o hotel é bem acabadinho. Se vc pensa em ir pra a Oktoberfest reservem beeeem antes o seu hotel ou vc vai pagar super caro (ou acabar pegando um meio chué). Mas, enfim, era só pra dormir mesmo pq passávamos o dia e quase a noite toda fora então, foi ok até porque estávamos bem pertinho do centro .

OlympiaPark

BMW welt

Nymphenburg Palace

Nymphenburg Palace

Demos uma paradinha para almoçar, e almoçamos no restaurante do Olympic Park e gostei muito! Achei o preço em conta e você escolhe as combinações (our combos) que vc quer, Danke ao nosso amigo, ele pediu pra gente De lá, ´comidos´ demos uma paradinha básica na Allianz-Arena, o hubby nem queria entrar, só tirar uma foto lá fora, para quem não conhece, durante a Copa do Mundo de 2006, esta arena era conhecida como FIFA World Cup Stadium Munich. A noite muda de cor e vc pode ver acesa em branco, azul ou vermelho (ou as duas últimas intercaladas).

Dachau

photo: (inconnu)

L’abbé Lucien Hess, directeur de la maîtrise de la cathédrale de Reims, cacha des enfants juifs dans une colonie de vacances de la maîtrise à Jonchery-sur-Vesle et leur a fourni de faux papiers. Il a été déporté comme résistant à Dachau.

source: crdp-reims.fr

http://www.ceibm.org/exilio.html 

Información,textos,testimonios de españoles y españolas bajo el horror nazi

Desde los hechos de la II Guerra Mundial, del horror nazi y su proyecto de eliminación total de judíos y otros seres humanos considerados por ellos inferiores,tales como gitanos,comunistas,etc,y el lanzamiento de dos bombas atómicas en japón, surge una hondísima brecha en toda la tradición de la filosofía nacida en la Atenas de Platón y su maestro Sócrates…

Acaso nunca se podrá salir de esas heridas que afectan grave y profundamente al quehacer de la Etica,de la Moral y del derecho…

Sin embargo es posible tratar de hacer una filosofía crítica para buscar por todos los medios a nuestro alcance que esta barbarie sea imposible de volver jamás a ser algo siquiera pensable, ni mucho menos algo real

“Vorgarten“
Group Exhibition at Neue Galerie Dachau and KVD Galerie Dachau (Germany).

20.Nov. – 24.Dec.2009
grand opening: Thursday, 19.Nov.2009 // 19.30

Participating artists:
Sabine Bielmeier – Fabian Engl – Christian Engelmann – Moritz Fingerhut – Till Julian Huss – Agnes Jänsch – Johannes Karl – Nico Kiese – Hendrik Peer Lass – Verena Ledig – Nina Märkl – Matthias Metz – Franziska Metzger – Verena Seibt – Barbara Trommeter/ Georg Szabo

Exhibition catalogue will be available at the gallery.

The Anti-Defamation League, a non-partisan NGO committed to fighting anti-Semitism and bigotry around the world, has called out Republican leadership, especially Eric Cantor, for his refusal to forcefully condemn the hate-filled signs featured by Republican operatives in their health care protest at the US Capitol.

In the letter they addressed to John Boehner, Eric Cantor, and other Republican members of Congress, the ADL pleaded with the representatives to use their “stature and platform as national political leaders to reject and condemn the use of Holocaust imagery for political purposes, and to urge your supporters to find other ways to communicate their views.”

It will be fascinating to see if Cantor actually responds, but I would put the odds of that as very low.  Cantor is only interested in what’s politically expedient for him, and right now in order to be a Republican, you must cater to the far-right, hate-filled tea partiers.  There are already rumblings of a tea party shock trooper running against Cantor from the right, and he needs to keep his base, the frothing Republican extremists, satisfied that he is one of them.  He’s ultimately too cowardly to truly distance himself from his hateful base.

So I just broke up with my boyfriend who told me the only reason we had to split was because if I didn’t like Italy or the things he did it would always be a problem.  Um, ok…Some Men are really good at making up fictitious and ridiculous scenarios. Nevertheless, I won a $1400 Final Cut Studio Software from one of his film festivals. Lucky, eh? Perfect consolation prize I say for being a supportive girlfriend ;-).  I had no use for it even though he did… So I Sold it soon after! Time to plan a trip.  Cheers!  I was only making $25,000/yr from graduate research at Georgia Tech and living in Atlanta. So how do you travel when you are strapped for cash and avoid debt at all cost. Count your pennies, travel really dirt cheap  and ask advice from an Indian guy

The two keys to my savings:

1. Fly in to London ($600). Most expensive city so I saved money by never staying there but traveling through it twice to see all the sites.
2. Book with Eurolines Bus ($300 for 15 nights unlimited travel) I saved all my money by busing overnight except from Amsterdam to Rome(where I spend a day and a night)…It was beautiful to see the landscape and meet unusual people on the bus.  Otherwise, I woke up everyday in a new city, in a new country.  Perfect for me.

Eurolines is only for International Tickets at all times so the rest of the rules apply based on this premise:

1. List your TOP cities before hand  but don’t worry about the order (you must be flexible but have priorites as tickets are not always convenient or available)
2. BOOK Next ticket AS SOON AS YOU GET THERE….wait till they open if you must (you can purchase first ticket prior to entire trip)
3. Go to further destinations first then work your way back just in case 15 days run out and you are not back in London
4. Move on to next location if ticket isn’t available for days in a place you don’t really want to be….come back or not
5. I recommend extra days in Rome, Paris, London, Munich, and French Riviera
6. I took Day trips to Amsterdam, Prague, Brussels, Barcelona
7. I traveled in early May (other off seasons would be even better) for less packed buses
8. Traveled to French Riviera via train from Marseille…went to Nice and bused for 1 euro between there and Cannes, and Monaco
9. If you are really cheap like me…. Make sure whatever you bring is something you can carry around all day.  If you are not sure you’ll need it, you won’t.  I would say the only thing I really needed was my neck pillow to sleep and something to keep me warm…ponchos can be useful if it rains, good shoes are always a must.)
10. Cool trick: use only neck pillow case and stuff it with your socks and underwear…etc. Saves space, keeps things organized.
11. I stayed with some friends too (tell people you are going…. you never know who knows someone or who is willing to open their house to you, and there is always couchsurfer.com) Good Luck!

Downside:

1. Eurolines does not care about you…they will drop you off at 4:30 in the morning and you must wait for Metro and to book tickets…mornings were cold.
2. No bathrooms (pee on the bus before they drop you off!!!)
3. Sometimes where they dropped you off was not the same place to purchase tickets (but usually in a reasonable walking distance)
4. If the bus was full (only once or twice in May) you had to master sleeping up straight (my neck pillow is my friend)

The other $800 was for museums, food, souvenirs, and the few cheap hostels where I stayed.  They ran about $16/night (sometimes with free food).

3 giorni fa si sono svolte negli Stati Uniti alcune elezioni locali, additate dalla maggioranza degli amish del Partito Repubblicano come un vero e proprio test sul fallimento dell’amministrazione Obama. Ebbene, in Italia abbiamo tutti letto che in effetti i democratici hanno perso la Virginia e il New Jersey, e questo ci è bastato per bollare il nuovo Premier a stelle e strisce come l’ennesimo samurai governativo che ha iniziato il suo harakiri. Come al solito, siamo fuori strada. Primo perchè negli U.S.A. la condotta politica conta davvero, quindi se un governatore, metti anche il più popolare di tutti, sbaglia vuoi nel pubblico vuoi nel privato, alle elezioni successive ha ben poche speranze di essere rieletto (per fare un esempio appunto Jon Corzine del New Jersey, “uomo di Wall Street” per i tanti che gli hanno voltato le spalle).
Secondo perchè i test non sono sulla popolarità del Presidente, che se anche ci piazza la sua facciona non frega niente a nessuno, ma sull’effettivo prestigio dei candidati.
Terzo perchè in Italia come sempre si scrivono le notizie a metà, e vi assicuro che basta spulciare sui siti americani per avere una vaga idea di come gli stessi redneck della destra non se la passino certo bene. Nessuno che canti vittoria, insomma.
1 – Per incominciare, si votava per un seggio al Congresso (il 23esimo -New York-). Doug Hoffman, il candidato del GOP, ha preso una batosta devastante in uno Stato che è Repubblicano fin da prima che Edison inventasse la lampadina, che ha il 93% di elettori bianchi e nonostante la campagna condotta in prima persona da Sarah Palin (o forse proprio per questo); come nella miglior tradizione Fox, a urne chiuse e fino all’ultimo si propagandava un plebiscito in suo favore. 
2 – I due nuovi governatori degli Stati sopracitati hanno vinto proprio perchè si sono smarcati dal partito, rifiutando il sostegno della stessa Palin e di tutte le organizzazioni oltranziste pro-life che dipingono Obama come il diavolo. Della serie, lasciate Limbaugh, Rove e la Fox paragonare il Presidente a Hitler e la riforma della sanità al lager di Dachau, noi intanto facciamo vera politica.
3 – Infine, il sindaco di New York, Bloomberg, è stato riconfermato con una percentuale misera (50,6% dei consensi) dopo due mandati conquistati a mani basse: cosa gli è capitato? Apparte che tecnicamente l’ottavo uomo più ricco d’America non è nemmeno Repubblicano, perchè nel 2007 ha lasciato il partito e corre come indipendente (oltre ad avere pulsioni spiccatamente democratiche), ma nell’ultimo anno ha addirittura rischiato il linciaggio, dopo la riforma della legge sul limite di due legislature per le cariche pubbliche newyorkesi: sul NY Times si leggeva “Bloomberg si compra il terzo mandato“.
La lezione qual è? Se c’è una cosa che agli elettori a stelle e strisce non piace nei politici, non è l’essere ricchi, ma l’agire come se la legge per un ricco non esistesse. Qualcuno ha detto Italia?

D.Piselli

Posted by Audiegrl

TPM/Rachel Slajda—At yesterday’s tea party rally on Capitol Hill, at least one protester brandished a large graphic photograph of the victims of the Dachau Nazi concentration camp, comparing health care reform to Nazi policies. Today, Rep. Eric Cantor’s (R-VA) spokesman called the photograph “inappropriate.”

Rep. Steve Israel (D-NY) has also condemned the poster.

Cantor, in an interview today with Bloomberg, also offered some criticism of radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh’s comparison of President Obama to Adolf Hitler.

“Do I condone the mention of Hitler in any discussion about politics?” said Cantor, who is the only Jewish Republican in Congress. “No, I don’t, because obviously that is something that conjures up images that frankly are not, I think, very helpful.”

More @

Eric Cantor, under fire for standing by idly while extremist Republicans brandished anti-Semitic, violent, and generally insulting signs mere yards from where he was standing, has taken the bold step of calling out Rush Limbaugh and firmly denouncing those extremists!

HAHA!  Just kidding.  You see, Eric Cantor is a coward, so he meekly granted a pathetic and equivocating interview to Bloomberg News.  And he did it on a Friday afternoon so that he could have it both ways; he can claim to have taken the high road and denounced the teabaggers extremism (and avoid insulting Republican Leader Rush Limbaugh) while not actually letting any of the teabaggers know what he did.  Who cares what he actually said because it’s not as if he means it.  He’s perfectly willing to overlook  some of most shocking hatred, racism, and, yes, even anti-Semitism in order to further his own political gain.  This is the same coward who stood nearby a sign comparing health care reform to the Nazi Dachau concentration camp without saying a thing.  And now he oh-so-gently chides them from afar and in a Friday afternoon news hole with the damage already done.  Sure, he’ll probably end up making nice with his master Rush Limbaugh, as he did when he sent out a fundraising letter to support Mr. Limbaugh, then under fire for smearing American troops, and he’ll come crawling back, tail between his legs, like the pathetic clown he is to Master Limbaugh so he keeps his far-right credentials up-to-date.

The man’s shrewd in some ways, but he’s a spineless coward nonetheless.

I was speaking, in passing, with a friend, when someone who overheard our conversation stopped, waited for it to end, and then mentioned something she’d just learned about that might help me. Challenging to pronounce, and even more difficult to spell, I had trouble finding more information about it on the Internet, but ultimately succeeded. It’s called ho’oponopono, and as you may guess from its spelling, is Hawaiian in origin.

What is it? It is an ancient practice of reconciliation and forgiveness. “Ho’oponopono” basically means to set things right. It entails taking 100 percent responsibility for everything that enters your awareness, because there is no “out there.” Everything you perceive is interpreted within the confines of your physical body, where all kinds of filters and influences come into play—especially in the form of memories.

We are all One, and in ho’oponopono, we take responsibility for the situations in which we find ourselves, whether we “caused” them or not. Long before I knew about ho’oponopono, I forced myself to go to the Dachau concentration camp in Germany. I did not play a role in the Holocaust. I was not responsible for it. But I knew that if humans could do that to each other, somewhere deep inside me, I must hold the potential to do it too. I had to face and confront that.

If I had known ho’oponopono then, my experience would have been different. Ho’oponopono is a simple four-step process that entails taking responsibility, apologizing, and asking for forgiveness. In Dachau, I might have said something like this:

1. I am sorry for the suffering that people experienced here. I am sorry for the unspeakable cruelty that prisoners endured. But I am also sorry that Nazi soldiers were ordered to be cruel by their superiors.
2. Please forgive me for the potential that lies within me to be so judgmental of and so cruel to my fellow human beings.
3. Thank you for this opportunity to make amends.
4. I love you.

This process is called “cleaning.”

Ho’oponopono in everyday life

Yesterday, a friend told me about a situation that has been incredibly challenging, in a twisted, convoluted, messed up sort of way. It was her experience, but once she told me about it, it became part of my experience, and something I needed to clean. You clean everything that comes into your experience that does not feel right or harmonious—which means you could be cleaning continuously. And when you are not cleaning, you can cut to the last step and say, “I love you” to things you’ve been taking for granted. Today, for example, I loved the trees in their autumn splendor and the road that brought me home.

Another example of using ho’oponopono is food, which I’ve thought a lot about. Are certain kinds of foods bad for us in and of themselves, or are they bad for us because we think they’re bad? A friend recently told the story of her Grandpa Norm, who had his own stick of butter at mealtimes (everyone else at the table had to share a second stick). He put butter on everything—including donuts—and lived to the age of 92. Clearly, grandpa was saying “I love you” to his butter. He welcomed it into his body and his body received it in harmony.

Although I’m committed to eating in a healthy way, I hate thinking of supermarkets or restaurants as mine fields, where danger lurks in the artificial sweeteners, trans fats, and genetically modified organisms that are hiding everywhere. So today, I tried ho’oponopono on the can of non-organic soup I had for lunch. I said, “I am sorry for the way I have judged you. Please forgive me for thinking that any part of you might be bad for my health. Thank you for nourishing me. I love you.” This will be our new way of saying grace.

The advantages of ho’oponopono

For me, the advantages of ho’oponopono are:

1. It prevents me from judging. When I take responsibility for the circumstances I’m in, say I’m sorry, ask for forgiveness, and express gratitude and love, it becomes impossible to judge.
2. It makes me feel peaceful.
3. It makes me feel empowered, because acknowledging the role I play in everything means I can’t possibly be a victim.
4. It addresses issues I’ve had with the law of attraction for a long time. The law of attraction is about intention (tell the Universe exactly what you want and you will get it). Ho’oponopono is about inspiration (clean up your mess and clear the way, so you can receive inspiration from the Divine). The law of attraction entails constant effort via affirmations, visioning, scripting, etc. Ho’oponopono entails clearing the channels between ourselves and the Divine, so we can receive (and act on) its inspiration and guidance. And that feels right to me.

MMM: More Matrix Madness

It seems that when War is on the menu, we all must be force-fed. Most of us seem to have better things to do with our lives than sacrifice them for Anti-Christ.

On March 19, 1976, Robert Faurisson, a historical revisionist (or in slander-speak, a “Holocaust Denier” — actually “historicl revisionist” is a bit redundant, since all History is revisionism) discovered the building plans of the Auschwitz and Birkenau crematoria in the Archives section of the Auschwitz State Museum, which had been keeping them hidden since the war.

He then spent three years trying to get some media outlet to pay attention to the 116 Auschwitz documents he had found, but was he was studiously ignored, until a reporter and a photographer from the Spanish magazine Interviu broke the news blackout.

In Interviu n° 145 (February 22-28, 1979, p. 64-66), Faurisson went over the documents, explaining that the showed the plan of a vast room which, given the layout of the area and the room’s situation, dimensions, structure, ventilation system and other physical features, cannot have been an execution gas chamber but indeed was, as was clearly written on the plan, a simple “basement depository” (Leichenkeller) meant to hold corpses awaiting cremation. He also showed other drawings indicating, in plain lettering, the existence of one or several small “gas chambers” for “delousing” (Gaskammer / Entlausung). [BBC Mocuments]

Apparently, forged copies of these documents [with Himmler's signature added, By Way of Deception... "בתחבולות תעשה לך מלחמה"] were “recently discovered” to great fanfare, and solemnly and inexplicably handed over to Israel, and then sanctimoniously waved about by the sanctimonious fucking bloodthirsty lunatic Netanyahoo at the UN as justification for a war against Iran.

NY Times:

“There are those who deny that the Holocaust happened,” Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said as he accepted the documents as a gift to Israel’s Holocaust memorial, where they will go on display next year. “Let them come to Jerusalem and look at these plans, these plans for the factory of death.”

Israel PM Yahoo: Israel has no problems — Let’s have an orgy!

The NY Times repeats Scheiß-ZOG-BRD’s lie that the documents were miraculously discovered in “an East German apartment”. Nobody seems bothered that German alleged state archives are just handed over to a foreign nation.

Ha’aretz correctly pointed out the absurdity of the “DEATH CAMP” nonsense, but when there’s a chance of having a Jolly Good War and killing masses of Aryans — oops, I mean Iranians — who cares about facts?

Israel Prez Peres: Israel has no problems — world domination plan on course.

Auschwitz expert: Blueprints found in Berlin not of death camp

By Assaf Uni, Ha’aretz, 2008.10.11

A leading expert on Auschwitz on Sunday denigrated the importance of the finding of plans for the construction of the extermination camp, which was reported this weekend in the German tabloid Bild. He said the documents have been known to scholars for many years and that they were not plans to build the extermination camp of Auschwitz-Birkenau, but rather earlier plans for the building of a forced labor camp.

Prof. Robert Jan van Pelt [a prominent "exterminationist", or "Holocauster"], a internationally acknowledged expert on the planning and construction of Auschwitz, said that based on what he had seen on the Internet, there seemed to be nothing new about the documents. He was one of several scholars who expressed doubts about the significance of the Bild story.

Van Pelt, an architectural historian, said that copies of the plans of the stages of the camp’s construction were also in the archive of the Polish National Museum at Auschwitz and in an archive in Moscow. He said that the source of the new copies was unclear since, according to Bild, the plans were found in an apartment in Berlin, whereas copies that were in the SS offices in Berlin were destroyed by Allied bombing in 1944. Van Pelt said he also doubted the authenticity of the signature of the SS chief, Heinrich Himmler, since such a high-ranking officer would not have signed such plans, and none of the copies he had ever seen bore such a signature.

Van Pelt also said the words “gas chamber” on one of the drawings meant a room in which disinfection of clothing was done by means of gas, and that the sketch is not of an extermination camp established in 1942, but rather of earlier plans for a huge concentration camp in which a force of 130,000 slave laborers was intended to work.

Van Pelt suggested the plans might be fakes, motivated by the lucrative market in Nazi memorabilia and documents.

Ralf Georg Reuth, the historian who wrote the piece in Bild, told Haaretz yesterday that the existence of such plans in Russian archives was known, “but German institutions have no originals, and therefore the importance of the finding of such original material is very great.” Reuth would not elaborate on where and when the plans were discovered, or whether they had been submitted to experts for study.

Related:

“German children will be obliged to visit the site of a Nazi concentration camp as part of their regular school curriculum.” [The Times, 2009.01.08]

Bavarians will probably be dragged to Dachau.

This is probably a good thing. First of all it will be good for the kids to get some fresh air. And secondly, they’re forbidden by their Internazi “government” from hearing many facts about concentration camps, so this might give the poor little Fritz’s and Gretls a chance to see how they’re being oppressed by this Blood Libel against Germans.

For example, at Dachau they’ll have a chance to discover that Jews were a minority of camp inmates and casualties. And they’ll see for themselves the phony “Shower Room Gas Chamber” that generations of occupying Anglo-American soldiers and local inhabitants were tormented with, until the Regime finally confessed that there was never any homicidal Gas Chamber (with or without fake shower-heads) at Dachau.

Der Speigel: Internazi Court fines Honest Bishop

Tag 1: Haimhausen – Biberbach – Eulenthal

Als ich Samstagmorgen aufstehe, ziehen noch Nebelfetzen über die Felder. Für ein ausgiebiges Frühstück bin ich viel zu aufgeregt, also zwinge ich mir ein Toast rein und fahre in den Stall, um vor unserem Start noch auszumisten. Die Pferde brummeln mir mit tiefer Stimme entgegen. Ich nehme mir Zeit und merke doch wie mir mein Herz bis zum Hals schlägt. Tausend Fragen schießen mir durch den Kopf: Halten meine Rippen durch? Und mein Kopf – der Schreck vom Sturz am vorherigen Tag steckt noch in all meinen Knochen! Hält mein Pferd durch? Vertragen sich die Zausel? Klappt alles mit der Unterkunft?  

Als Gesa eintrudelt, bin ich schon am Putzen. Ruhig arbeiten wir vor uns hin, bis wir endlich abmarschbereit sind. Wir warten auf Andrea und Markus, die von Haimhausen zu uns rüberreiten. Ungeduldig erklimmen wir samt Pferde die Anhöhe hinterm Stall, um zu sehen, wo sie bleiben. Da kommen sie schon in flottem Trab auf uns zu. Jetzt geht es los! Wir sind alle bestens gelaunt und das Wetter könnte nicht schöner sein: Der Nebel hat sich längst verzogen und die Sonne wird unseren Ritt das ganze Wochenende hindurch begleiten.

Am ersten Tag kommen wir prima ohne Karte zurecht. Das erste Stück führt uns durch vertrautes Ausreitgebiet und Gesa kennt die Wege gut, hat sie in den vergangenen Jahren viel reiten müssen, um sich und ihre Isländerin optimal auf die drei Alpenüberquerungen vorzubereiten. Außerdem hat sie wenige Tage vorher einen Großteil der Strecke tapfer mit dem Rad abgefahren. DANKE GESA!

Stoppelfelder und Begegnungen der dritten Art

Der Herbst ist eine perfekte Zeit zum Wanderreiten. Wir nutzen gerne und viel die abgeernteten Maisfelder und verändern spontan die ein oder andere Streckenführung. Kurz vor Überquerung der Glonn erinnert uns Salka daran, bei aller Ruhe und Gemütlichkeit des Ritts doch konzentriert zu bleiben. Sie stolpert auf einem herrlichen Wiesenweg über ihre eigenen Haxen und stürzt auf beide Karpalgelenke. Aber sie läuft taktklar und schmerzfrei weiter, nichts schwillt an und wir hoffen, dass es so bleibt.

In Glonn begegnen wir Vierbeinern der dritten Art – Schweine! Die Pferde bleiben cool und wir bekommen bei ihrem Anblick langsam Appetit (Wann sieht man noch Schweine im Garten mit Suhle – die müssen einfach gut schmecken). Zuvor durchqueren wir den Ort und begegenen erneut einem Schwein, diesmal auf einem Motorrad sitzend, das auf unserer Höhe merkbar absichtlich den Motor aufheulen lässt. Unser Pferde machen einen Satz, ich verliere die Contenance und brülle ihm Schweinereien hinterher. Zur Ehrenrettung von Zweiradfahrern muss ich aber sagen, dass ich bisher auch ausgesprochen gute Erfahrung mit Motorradfahrern auf Ausritten gesammelt habe.

Bald wird es Zeit für eine kleine Brotzeit im Wald, die wir uns echt verdient haben: Wir schlugen uns zwischen Wald und Maisfeldern zeitweise recht abenteuerlich und abseits der Wege - aber immer noch vertretbar – durch die Landschaft und ich habe mir, nach dem Sturz am Tag zuvor, ein paar Galoppsprünge getraut und es sogar richtig genossen.

An einem Fischweiher bei Thalmannsdorf/Jetzendorf müssen unsere Pferde richtig klettern. Es geht im Wald steil bergauf und ich spüre, wie Power sich anstrengt. Bunte Blätter rascheln, Äste knacken. Powers Hinterhand arbeitet unter mir wie eine Maschine.Ich habe das Gefühl, das abwechslungsreiche Gelände macht ihm genauso viel Spaß wie mir.

Endspurt Richtung Alberzell

Hinter Thalmannsdorf reiten wir kreuz und quer durch das Klingenholz und genießen den federnden Waldboden. Wir sind überrascht, dass wir an diesem herrlichen Tag noch keinem anderen Reiter begegnet sind, denn Alberzell naht, wo der Reitverein an diesem Tag seinen alljährlichen Orientierungsritt veranstaltet. Dort angekommen, nutzen wir die Gelegenheit und das Kuchenangebot des Reitvereins, um eine kleine Pause zu machen. Mit Gleichgesinnten ratschen wir über unsere Zausel und die Reiterei und brechen wieder auf zum Endspurt. Power ist müde und schlurft den anderen hinterher. Ich bin einfach nur glücklich und bekomme das Grinsen nicht mehr aus dem Gesicht. Schon zwanzig Minuten später erreichen wir Eulenthal, den Hof von Beate und somit unsere Übernachtungsstation, wo wir herzlich begrüßt werden. Wir teilen die riesigen Boxen ab, damit unsere Pferde ihre Nacht ungestört voneinander verbringen können und legen ihnen großzügig Heu vor, auf das sich Power mit gewohnt gutem Appetit stürzt Ich bin stolz auf mein Pferdchen, das seinen ersten Ganztagesritt so toll bestritten hat. Liebevoll bürste ich seinen Rücken, dann lasse ich ihm einfach seine Ruhe.

Wir sitzen noch in der Sonne bis unser Abendessen in der Blockhütte auf dem Tisch steht. Nach einem Kontrollgang in der Stall frönen wir dem Rotwein, der uns leider nicht vor einer schlaflosen Nacht bewahrt (nein, Markus’ Schnarchen hat nicht gestört… vielmehr die gemein summenden Stechmücken).

Da die Toilette neben dem Stall liegt, müssen wir diverse Male durch die Vollmondnacht schlurfen. Die Atmosphäre ist einzigartig: Die Pferde von Beate dösen in ihren Offenställen, alles ist ruhig und friedlich, derMond gießt alles in ein unwirkliches Licht – gigantisch schön.

Tag 2: Eulenthal – Biberbach – Haimausen

 Beate nimmt uns am nächsten Morgen das Füttern ab, so frühstücken wir schnell, packen zusammen, misten aus und machen unsere Pferde fertig, die deutlich flotter als am Vortag starten. Auch Salka ist nach ihrem Sturz fit.

Das Gelände ist ein Traum: bergauf, bergab, entlang Huf schonender Wiesenwege reiten wir Richtung Badershausen. Ich kann den bei uns so spärlich gesäten “Bergaufwegen” nicht widerstehen und galoppiere mit Power voraus (Darius folgt im Traber-Trab und bin so glücklich, weil alles gut läuft. In Volkersdorf überqueren wir wieder einmal eine schmale Fußgängerbrücke und sind froh, dass unsere Pferde alles so toll mitmachen. Meine Rippen fangen an zu schmerzen aber ich versuche alles zu genießen…

Auf der Suche nach Wasser

Bei Thann durchqueren wir ein Waldstück und reiten den Schwöllgraben in flottem Trab nach Sollern durch, wo wir unsere Ex-Stallkameradin Steffi spontan besuchen und bei der Gelegenheit gleich nach Wasser für die Pferde fragen möchten. Steffi ist nicht da und die Pferde kriegen nix zu saufen, auch beim tollen Metzger in Lindach ist alles fragen vergeblich. Scheinbar sind sämtliche Bauern diesen Sonntag ausgeflogen. Wir machen eine Pinkelpause und ich bin verblüfft wie weit ein Reiter mit Parelli kommen kann: Markus und sein Wallach machen es gleichzeitig… 

Mitten in einer Einfamilienhaussiedlung in Ziegelberg sagt uns endlich ein netter Mann sofort Wasser zu. Er kommt mit einem “Josera”-Eimer und wir wetten drauf, dass es in dieser Familie sicherlich einen Reiter gibt… Die Pferde haben großen Durst und wir sind froh, so hartnäckig gewesen zu sein.

Plötzlich gibt Power Gesa einen heftigen Nasenstüber, als er aufschreckt. Sie ist schmerzgebeugt und wir fürchten alle einen Bruch. Doch eine Alpenüberquererin haut so schnell nix um – wir können weiter.

Mittagspause bei Schnitzel und Kürbis 

Wir erreichen heimisches Gebiet. In Asbach parken wir die Pferde im Garten vom Gasthaus und setzen uns im Biergarten in die warme Sonne. Wir futtern Schnitzel und die beste Kürbissuppe, die ich seit langem gegessen habe. Sandra und Manuela aus Haimhausen sind uns entgegengeritten und komplettieren unsere Schlussetappe, die vom Gelände her nicht sonderlich beeindruckt: Viele Schotterwege mit richtig fiesem scharfkantigen Schotter und Beton.

In Biberbach angekommen verabschieden wir uns von der Haimhauser Truppe und versprechen uns im kommenden Jahr die Wiederholung.

Es war ein tolles Erlebnis! Pferde und Reiter verstanden sich gut und ich bin immer wieder froh über die tolle Verbindung zu meinem ehemaligen Stall. 

Markus, meine Rippen und ich danken dir, dass du abends noch unsere Klamotten vom Eulenthal abgeholt hast!

The Siedlce Ghetto

Siedlce was occupied by German troops on 10 October 1939. Before WW2 around 50% of the town’s 30,000 inhabitants were Jewish. A few days after the Nazis had occupied the city, on 15 November 1939, they began to arrest Jews.

After gathering them together in a prison, the following day they were marched to Wegrow. There, during the night, around 50 of those arrested managed to escape from the market square, including Hercel Kave and his father. The others were conducted to Ostroleka.

From the beginning of the occupation, the Germans turned their entire propaganda machinery on Polish society in order to justify their murdering of the Jews. For this purpose they made use of posters with texts such as “Typhus, spotted fever, is one of the most dangerous of diseases, often fatal. Typhus is very contagious and therefore it can spread quickly and easily into serious epidemics. In the Generalgouvernement it is widespread, particularly amongst the Jews.”

On Jewish holydays German soldiers entered synagogues, beat the Jews who were praying there, tore off their liturgical garments, and fired at those who tried to escape by jumping out of windows. Josef Rubin died thus, on the seventh day of Sukkot.

From the beginning of the occupation the Germans plundered Jewish shops and homes. At the end of November 1939, soldiers entered the synagogue and the Beit Hamidrash (House of Prayer), and threw out the Torah scrolls. In a frenzy of hatred they ripped them apart and trampled on them.

During the night of the 24 – 25 December 1939, the Nazis set fire to the synagogue, homeless Jewish refugees who were inside died in the fire.

At the end of November 1939, the Germans ordered the formation of a Jewish Council – the Judenrat. It included: Icchak Nachum Weintraub – chairman; Hersz Eisenberg – deputy-chairman; Herszl Tenenbaum – secretary, responsible for liaison with the Gestapo; Dr Henryk Loebel – health division; M. Czarnobroda – treasurer; M. Rotbejn – employment division; J. Landau, lawyer – social assistance; A. Altenberg – supplies division; L. Grinberg – legal assistance; R. Leiter – general matters.

There were 25 Judenrat members in all. “The members of the Jewish Council were, in general, recognized Jewish leaders, to whom the Nazis gave enormous power until the moment when they, too, were deported.”

The Council managed Jewish property and manpower, and drew up “transport lists” (lists of persons destined for extermination camps). A Jewish police force kept order, wearing as insignia caps of office, nightsticks, and special armbands with the inscription “Jüdischer Ordnungsdienst“. There were around 50 of them. Gewisser stood at their head. There was also the Sanitätsdienst – the Sanitation Service. Its purpose was to maintain cleanliness in the apartments, courtyards, and streets of the Jewish quarters.

After the closed ghetto was instituted, the functionaries of the Sanitation Service became part of the Health Division of the Jewish Council. In addition to their previous duties, its members were ordered to assign living quarters for Jews who moved to the already overcrowded ghetto. The Judenrat also had an employment office (Arbeitsamt), whose director was Izrael Friedman.

The chairman of the Siedlce Judenrat was a man of already advanced age: Weintraub who was a worthy local social and political activist. For many years he had been at the head of the Zionist movement and the religious community. He kept a diary in which he recorded the important events of the town, as well as stories, told to him by Jewish elders.

Unfortunately nearly all these writings have been destroyed. What has been saved is only that which he had published in the press in the interwar period. The function of chairman of the Judenrat was filled not by Weintraub, but by Dr Henryk Loebel. Emil Karpinski remembers that “people fought each other, literally fought, gave bribes, and used every possible means to get a position in the Judenrat or the Jewish police.”

By December 1939, the Judenrat was already ordered to make a “contribution” of 20,000 zlotys. In 1940, from spring to winter, the Siedlce Jews were used for land reclamation work on the Liwiec River. Workers, divided into 15 person groups, worked under Polish direction.

The Germans had overall supervision of the labour, and the workers were supervised by SS-men, who controlled the progress of the work. Around 1,500 Jews left the ghetto every day and went to the jobs to which they had been assigned.

In April 1940, the Germans carried out the registration of all Jewish men between 16 and 60 years of age, and in November 1940 a census of Jewish people was conducted for those streets on which they were most numerous.

Read more here: http://www.holocaustresearchproject.org/ghettos/siedlce.html

The Holocaust Education & Archive Research Team

www.HolocaustResearchProject.org

Copyright Carmelo Lisciotto H.E.A.R.T 2009

Last week was our first full week of travel- that means no classes, no homework, no seminars or workshops for 9 whole days!

Oktoberfest

On Friday afternoon Jess, Mike, and I took the bus at 4:00 pm to Bassano, where the closest train station is, to get our rail passes validated and catch the train to Padova, only to find that the next train to Padova was actually a 2 hour bus ride. Our reason for going to Padova was that the overnight train to Munich was leaving from that station at 11:28 pm, but we figured we would go early to look around a little bit. I had not considered that most things would be closed at 6pm and that it would be too dark to really do any sightseeing. Plus, the area around the train station was not the nicest part of town. Actually, it reminded me a lot of Chinatown in New York.

About an hour later the rest of the group taking the overnight train showed up and we walked around together, a group of about 15 American students each lugging a week’s worth of luggage ambling around the streets of Padova at night. We must have been a sight. We got some really good Chinese food for dinner (everyone was sick of pasta at this point, and like I said, it was like Chinatown), and stopped at a cafe to wait out the remaining two hours before we went up to the platform to wait for the train.

waiting for the train

Because I booked my reservation only a week before I left for Italy, the only cabins left were the six-person couchettes or the first class, single person sleepers. Well because I also did not know anyone at this point, rather than take my chances with 5 strangers I went for the single room (Thanks Dad ). It was custom. I had a whole cabin to myself, with a bathroom and a shower and there was a German lady who showed me to my cabin, and then woke me up in the morning (at 5:45!) and brought me one of those little airline breakfasts and a coffee. There was a couple in the cabin next door from New Hampshire who were very nice, they were also headed for Oktoberfest and they offered to share some of their wine with me.

We arrived in Munich bright and early at 6:30 in the morning, and after a quick shower and coffee i hopped off the train much more awake than my friends in the 6 person couchettes, who were still groggy. I shared some of my breakfast with them , to be nice

We checked into our hostel, then went back to the train station to meet up with the students that had taken a chartered bus all the way from Paderno to Munich overnight. I don’t think they got much sleep either.

The first thing we did was walk around the city a bit, and we found a beautiful church in the middle of one of the squares. Every other shop on the street was selling Lederhosen and Dirndls, which, to my surprise, ALL of the germans were wearing. Some even came in groups wearing matching costumes. Hordes and hordes of Germans in lederhosen.

That afternoon we took a tour of Dachau, a concentration camp on the outskirts of Munich. Apparently Dachau was the “model”concentration camp that they used as a guide for all of the other camps. It’s were they trained the officers, tried out different kinds of toxic gas, and they even had a “school of torture”. Our guide was really good, he was from Ireland and really gave us a good idea of how terrible things were there. On the ride back we asked him about good places to go in Munich, and he suggested Olympia park where they held the Olympics some time in the seventies, I believe.

Following his advice, that’s where we headed for the afternoon. The first place we stopped in the park (or it might have been right outside of the park) was the BMW Welt and BMW Museum. Oh Em Gee. I don’t even like cars, but I still thought this place was really cool. The Welt was like a showroom/interactive museum where you can look at the cars and sit in them, and it had kiosks and exhibits where you could drive a virtual car and see what innovations they were coming up with for the future. Cool stuff. We only went into the lobby of the actual museum (you had to pay to go in) but just in the lobby there were these really nice, antique looking cars, and then in the next room was a futuristic concept car. This thing was so cool.

After the BMW Welt/Museum we walked over to the park itself and went up into this big space needle looking thing in the middle of the park.The view from up there was incredible– you could see all of Munich and the surrounding countryside, all the way to the huge Alps way in the distance. We were there right at sunset as well, which made it that much more beautiful.

From the top of the space needle

The next day was the big day: Oktoberfest. We had a reservation from 12-5 in the Hofbrau-Festzelt tent, which is the biggest tent in the whole place. We’re talking massive. And this tent is mostly full of Americans and Italians, and some Germans too just because they’re everywhere.

The inside of the Hofbrau tent

Oktoberfest itself is like a gigantic carnival with rides and games, and with these huge beer tents all around. Our reservations came with vouchers for two liters of beer and half a chicken each, and we got to sit in the tent for five hours and listen to the band (all dressed in lederhosen as well) play the same three songs over and over again. Two of the songs were in German, during one of which you were supposed to raise your mug and toast. They played this one after almost every song. The third song that they played the whole time was the one that goes “Heeeee-eeeeey Baby! I wanna kno-oo-ow, if you’ll be my girl”. Of course, all of the Americans loved that one (and danced to it every time, too). My friend Jess actually bought a dirndl and wore it to the tent. She looked so cute in it!

The band in the Hofbrou tent

Here are my pictures from the whole travel break, the first third are Munich. I didn’t bring my camera to Oktoberfest, though!

Travel Week I

Next up, Prague!

I know, the story that The Today Show is coming here to cover really is about the end of an era. That is, the end of traditional photography. We all know that photography, like music, is being transformed by the digital age.

 The main story here is about how one local industry is the last-of-the-best-of-the old traditional photography developers. (try saying that 10  times fast without your dentures in) That local business is Dwayne’s Photo. A hometown institution that has been here as long as I can remember, and ran by the Steinle father/son duo. My hat is off to them, they have been reliable employers for many ‘Parsonians’ for many years. And the last thing I want to do is detract from anyone here locally that is willing and able to employ anyone.

To the folks Of Dwayne’s Photo….SALUTE!

 But, like another midwest native always said; “Now, the rest of the story”………

 According to the Parsons Sun news article, another father/son pair will be featured too. Leon Crooks will be talking about his life here as a well known photographer, using Kodachrome of course. His son Brad will be featured as the new generation, using digital photography. Any Parsonions my age or older know Leon Crooks, and his family. Leon photographed Parsonions for decades. So many photos for school yearbooks, I doubt the Crooks family even know how many.

 But, before I get too long winded with old memories, the rest of the story. About a WW2 veteran, a local hero in the eyes (and words) of Brad Crooks, his father Leon. I am stealing the pictures and words from Brad.

 Maybe Leon, and many others only known to few, never achieved the notoriety of “Shifty” Powers. To their friends, family and neighbors, their stories are just as important. And sometimes, like Leon, the stories are just as interesting! So, borrowing from Brad’s Facebook, here is just a little about Leon Crooks in World War 2. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pic on the lower right was taken in the famous Hofbrauhas Beer Hall in Munich. It is credited as having been the location of the first Nazi rally in 1926. Adolph Hitler had quarters on the upper floors of the building. My dad and two others were the first Americans to enter after Munich fell. The fedora he is wearing was one of Hitlers and has his name inscribed in the brim.

The upper right was right after the invasion of Italy. My dad made 3 “D-day” beach h-hour invasions; Sicily, Italy, and France.

People have said the one on the bottom left looks like Errol Flynn or Clarke Gable. A piece of a parachute is around his neck. The guys made them into ascotts, after supplies were dropped to them in Southern Italy. Attached to the 36th Div at the time, they were bottlenecked by 3 German Divisions. My dad said the aircraft dropping the supplies of much needed ammo and weaponry is what saved them. Needless to say, they saved the parachutes as souveniers.

Photo of a Railcar at Dachau

As for Dachau…I asked him if that was the worst part of the war for him. He said no, that having to fight Hitler Youth and women was probably the worst thing. Hitler Youth were as young as 10 and 12, and they were so indoctrinated in Nazi Propaganda, they would fight to the death. Women and Hitler Youth would be all that was left defending some German towns. He carried several photos that he took at Dachau in his wallet for 10 or 15 yrs. Anytime people would question the Holocausts reality, he would pull those out and show.

My mom said for several years after the war, my dad would have nightmares, yelling for his buddies and wake up in cold sweats. That passed in a few years. I remember when I was young child, my dad was not particularly fond of American Independence Day Celebrations. Not only did the sounds bother him, but he lamented that the smell of sulfur from fireworks heavy in the air was the worst thing. He said it smelled like a battlefield. Physiciatrists say that smell is the sense most linked to memory. There used to be things called Night Howlers on the 4th of July. They sounded just like an incoming shell. Being in a heavy mortar outfit, the sounds of incoming shells was something he “got used to” as they were always a primary target for the enemy. One time we were his backyard when I was a kid, and one of those things went off. He said “Now those things bother me”.

Photo by Leon Crooks

Wirges, Germany. Picture my father took of the men holding up a flag, which they took off of the Hotel behind them. The hotel had served as a German military Headquarters. This flag is among the souvenirs my father brought home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are at least 40 more great photos and Brad’s commentary, all on Brad’s Facebook.

How Ironic, with the Today Show coming to document the demise of photographic film, it is the digital age that makes this great story available to the whole world. ~sekanblogger

OK so my love of travel photography isn’t a new creation; it’s something that’s developed over the last several years.

The other day, while I was going through a box of old things, I came across my very first digital camera. It was a 3.0 megapixel  point and shoot that I had purchased before a trip to Germany five years ago. That was a trip of firsts; my first trip abroad, thus the first time I ever needed a passport, and my first time using a digital camera.

I fell in love with photography, and travel, on that trip. The majority of my photos aren’t the “Here I Am at the…” photos that you see from most trips as I much prefer the opposite side of the lens. Most were  creatively framed shots (or at least my attempt at it)  of the amazing architecture in Munich, the scenery in Heidelberg and Salzburg, Austria, and a “photo essay” of sorts that I shot on our visit to Dachau Concentration Camp.  Even with that inexpensive little point and shoot, while admittedly difficult, I found myself twisting myself in to any number of weird poses to shoot from odd angles and, while I didn’t have any manual control over the exposure settings, I did find myself fiddling with those I did have for more creative lighting. Below, you will see one of my photos from my trip to Dachau which, to this day, despite the grim subject matter, is still one of my favorite shots. (This would be of the trees lining the walk between the prisoner bunkers that used to be on either side. They have since been torn down at the request of the survivors.)

"The Walk"

 Not long after that trip, I upgraded to a digital SLR and began teaching myself the ins and outs of photography, from framing to manual exposure (my camera is permanently set on Manual exposure, no more presets!). I couldn’t wait for my next trip so that I could try out my new skills and, thankfully, I wouldn’t have to wait very long. Over the last five years, I’ve been lucky enough to travel to Italy twice, France, England and Ireland, but my love of travel photography isn’t relegated solely to trips abroad. My camera is never out of arms reach, whether it’s on a trip to Wine Country in California, the mountains of Taos in New Mexico or just a drive in the car on a Sunday morning.

I don’t take my ability to travel for granted; I know that I am very lucky to be able to do it and it’s a priviledge that not everyone can experience. That said, I have begun posting several photo series from my trips as a way of hopefully bringing my experience to others and I look forward to being able to post many more trips down the road.

One of my favorite photographs from my trip to France was this shot of the Eiffel Tower, the subject of my newest piece, “La Tour Eiffel.” In person, the Eiffel Tower is awe inspiring. You can see it from almost anywhere in Paris and, from the top of the tower, the views of the city are breathtaking. It’s one of those icons that, despite seeing it multiple times in books growing up, the first time you see it in person, it takes your breath away. I wanted to capture it as close to the bottom of the Tower as I could to capture the wonderful architecture and design while still properly representing it’s majestic height.

I layered this photo with several textures, initially with the idea that I might give it a “vintage” photo feel, however was pleasantly surprised at the multiple vibrant colors in the end result.  Sometimes these things happen accidentally but, thankfully I can always figure out how it happened and weren’t we all taught as children that you, “learn from your mistakes?”

This and many other prints are available in my online gallery. Please feel free to stop by and take a peek and check back in with me as I have several new pieces in the works that I can’t wait to share.

"La Tour Eiffel"