Flying Home

Zusätzlich

As I fly home, I prepare to live in the United States again instead of Vienna. I am saying good-bye to the Ubahns and Schnitzel (not that I ate any Schnitzel, I'm just being nostalgic). No more sachertorte and no more Heurigen. I do not know what I am going to do with myself when return to the states and return to my real life. I will learn German with a vengeance.

When I boarded my flight home I grab a newspaper, in English so I can read it. On the second (page 3)page find it full of stories that seem to highlight aspects of my trip, my Viennese experiences and my interests almost as if the paper was written for me. The headlines: German official defends race remarks, 6 Roma are killed in capital of Slovakia, and Fighting over a Renaissance masterpiece. It goes from racism to gypsies and human rights to a dispute over art. The main picture on this page is of the Ukrainian leader Viktor F. Yanukovich before the memorial for victims of war and violence in Berlin. While all these stories are not front page news, it is indeed close to the first page and is top news to me.

Now I'm off to finish that paper.

Tributes

It’s my last full day in Vienna and I am turning on the television for the first time see what’s happening in the world via CNN world news. Unfortunately, there wasn’t too much that was news to me. The headlined stories were as follows:

· Hungary air show on 70^th Anniversary of Airforce

· Iraq’s change of Power

· Cricket Scandal Probe, Pakistan

· Floodwaters, Pakistan 1600 dead, 17 million affected

· Chilean trapped for 3 weeks, drill will reach in 2-4 months; playing cards will be delivered to miners.

As I was waiting to see an actual story about some of these stories throughout the world, I was disappointed when an hour long tribute to Harry Connick Jr’s humanity work for New Orlean’s 5^th year anniversary of Katrina on Larry King Live. As I sat in my flat watching the news I found myself growing more and more annoyed with this story, when I was sure there had to be more important stories with either the miners or the flood in Pakistan. Katrina was five years ago. Devastation is occurring today in Pakistan and now I’m wasting my last day in Vienna watching Harry Connick Jr. advertise his CD. Not only that, but I get the feeling that he’s just trying to profit off New Orleans. Sure, he grew up there, but he even said he hadn’t been there in 12 years. He may have never returned if Katrina had not visited first. Maybe he deserves more credit than I am willing to give him. Even so, I turn the television off when I get a phone call and an invitation to something more interesting.

From the news I head to the Heeresgeschichliche Museum one last time. This Museum has many floors of exhibits and I have yet to see it all after three visits.

Then I’m off to the Ferris wheel at the Prater. This amusement park has survived world wars and we are able to ride it today. It’s incredible to ride to the top and look at the city I have come to know (Ich kenne Wien) and love. All the while, I am pleased to fly home tomorrow. I miss Jeff and I miss my food. I look forward to eating Mexican and Thai. I pick out the skyline of Vienna one last time.

Finally we, our Vienna Class of 2010, celebrates together in Vienna for the last time at the Centimeter Brewery. The swords were epic, the beer quite tasty and the Jäger was the bomb. It’s bittersweet: our farewell hugs to those we experienced Vienna with and our Auf Wiedersehen to Wien. I can’t help but hear the song in my head…

Frankl, Facebook and Heuriger

Upon leaving our three hour tour of Thomas Frankl’s studio, I realized I had not taken a photo with him. It was a shame and I could not leave the country without one photo with him. So I emailed him back and today I get to meet with this gracious man once again. As we arrived he was quick to serve us pretzels, cookies and water. As we snacked we began creating him a Facebook account. This was an interesting experience, for one, I never signed up for anything on a German Website and for two, I never thought in my life I would sit next to a Holocaust survivor explaining the ins and outs of Facbook privacy while creating his site. Meeting him and spending hours with him learning his story was surreal enough. Now he has a Facebook.

Next our class met a Heuriger that is a super authentic Heuriger. It is only open four weeks a year, just long enough for it to serve its yearly wine. It was delicious. After the first round of wine pitchers were refilled we ventured into the world of debate. The question: to legalize Marijuana or not. I chimed in since I was raised in Humboldt County and remember pot was what we seasoned our garlic bread with. To my knowledge, we never sprinkled it on our bread, my dad just called his stash in his tin oregano. However today I am careful as to which butter I spread on my toast in the morning at my dad’s. It was a fun lighthearted debate, I think, anyways most in our group are happy when a little schloshed. We did not solve the problem of legalizing weed and I do not want to turn this blog into a debate on the subject so I will change the subject.

We left the Heuriger happy and warm, returned to our apartments and then I headed out with the group to the Rathaus. We made it to the nightly film festival just in time to catch the closing credits for the show. The Rathaus was however spectacular lit up at night. I was going to walk home from the innere stadt, but I grow tired and cold so I catch the Ubahn. I crawl into bed still in awe that I now have a picture of myself with Thomas Frankl. I am beyond excited to know that he has agreed to come speak with Kathy Stuart’s Summer Abroad class 2011 (and more with willing health). It makes me want to come back next summer just to spend more time with him.

After a few conversations I have decided to eat, live and breathe German. I have since ordered a few comic books in German online and have bookmarked Der Spiegel online. I am also enrolled in more German courses at UC Davis with the ‘weiter’ determination to conquer my lack of confidence in speaking and to learn to hear listen and comprehend in German.

Stadttempel

To celebrate my last Saturday in Vienna, I decided I would spend Shabbat at the Stadttempel, Wien. The men meet at 9 a.m. downstairs and the women trickle in between 10-10:15 a.m. in the upstairs. As I arrived I was surprised when three police officers met me on the street corner of Seitenstettengasse I looked down the street and there was another police van surveying the opposite corner. I had noticed a few police in the area during the week but I figured it was because I was in the throws of the Viennese “Bermuda Triangle,” der Bermudadreieck.

Come to find out that the security was indeed for the Stadttempel, with extra pre-cautions taken on Shabbat. Police surrounded the Synagogue. I was taken aback by the presence of the armed guards, with what looked to me like semi-automatic rifles. They asked me where I was headed and I asked them, “Darf ich in die Synagoge gehen?” They waved me through and then a man and woman met me at the entrance of the Synagogue. They were in dark suits and were wearing earpieces; they reminded me of bodyguards.

As if finding armed guards on the street corner was not surprise enough, what happened next caught me even more off guard. The Temple guards proceeded to question me for a good 5-10 minutes before they let me in. They asked me my full name and requested a form of identification. The first picture ID I found was my museum pass which was not good enough, they needed an official ID like a passport. I asked them if my California driver’s license would do since I left my passport in my apartment. It sufficed. Next they asked me a whole battery of questions: where was I from, why was I in Vienna, who do I know in Vienna, how long have I been there, does anyone in Vienna know I am at the Temple today, does anyone in the U.S. know I am at the temple today, do I practice Judaism in my home country, do I attend synagogue in my home town, how often…? Each time they asked a question they looked up at me and then down at my ID. I was almost positive they were going to catch me in a lie—I wondered if they could tell I was not 100% truthful about my weight and I do not really know my actual height. Each time I answered a question it seemed to inspire another.

Then they asked me about what I had in my pockets, and my bag. I told them what I remembered having: a notebook, pencil, and camera (which I decided not to use so I would not be asked to leave). They wanted to see it all and they asked me to turn on the camera. The last entrance exam was a pat down and then I was deemed safe to enter. They told me I was free to go upstairs. Needless to say I was ecstatic when I gained entry although still a little rattled by the ordeal.

The service was indeed beautiful. I listened to the Rabbi read the Torah in Hebrew, so I knew even less about what was being read than if it was in German. Either was I loved watching and listening—it was so melodious. At one point the Rabbi had all young boys join him and he led them in a few Psalms with call and response. Then as they finished, another Rabbi collected the scrolls and brought it around so all in attendance could kiss it. Then they opened the curtains behind the altar, where there were a number of other scrolls each one robed and crowned (photo stolen from http://www.kiwiblog.co.nz/tag/dpf.)

As I sat in the temple I could not help but ponder its history and Vienna’s tragic Jewish history of persecution. Vienna’s first Synagogue was destroyed in a cleansing crusade against the Jews in 1421. Vienna under the rule of Albrecht V burned the medieval Synagogue to the ground along with 212 wealthy Jews.[1] The first synagogue was forgotten and buried until it was unearthed during the construction of Rachel Whiteread’s memorial to the murdered Austrian Jews. The cleansing of the city however, was celebrated in the 16^th Century with a plaque that reads:

Flumina Jordani tergunturlabe malisque

Corpora cum cedit, quod latet omne nefas.

Sic flamma assurgens totam furibunda

Per urbem 1421 Hebraeum purgat crimina

saeva canum. Deucalioneis mundus purgatur

ab undis sicque iterum poenas igne furiente luit.

For those, like me who cannot read Latin, it translates:

In the waters of the Jordan, their bodies were cleansed of filth and malady. And all that was hidden and sinful disappeared. Thus, rose in 1421 the flames of hatred throughout the city and expiated the horrible crimes of the Hebrew dogs. As the world once was cleansed by the Deucalion Flood, so were all the sins atoned in the raging flames.[2]

Under Leopold I, the Jewish community in Vienna was banished in 1670.[3] Maria Theresia hated the Jews and expelled them from Prague and Bohemia in 1744 (then repealed in 1748). While Maria Theresia’s expulsion was not upheld, her hatred sustained: “ ‘I know of no greater plague than this race, which on account of its deceit and hoarding of money is driving my subjects to beggary.’”[4] Her son, Josef II, the “Enlightened Absolutist”[5] made a place for the Jews in Vienna and was known as “Emperor of the Jews.”[6] Josef II legislated the Tolerance Edicts of the 1780s, which lifted the Jew tax and other restrictions. This new tolerance allowed the Jews new opportunity in the community, economics and education with new freedom the Jews enjoyed a Maskilim, Jewish Enlightenment, but still restricted by the Familiants Laws, residency..[7] Building “restrictions” also remained on Synagogues, which would prove helpful to the Stadttempel in the century following its construction.[8]

Josef Kornhäusel was the architect whose “greatest achievement” was the Stadttempel built in 1826.[9] It was built in a city that only allowed Christian houses of worship in the inner city to be accessible from the street. In addition The Jewish Synagogue could not look like a Jewish Synagogue from the outside so as not to compete with the beautiful Baroque churches and Christian faith. It was built sharing walls of adjacent buildings. When the Nazis took over the city in 1938, the Stadttempel was the only synagogue that survived Kristallnacht the November Pogrom. The Nazis gutted the Synagogue of all things Jewish, but the building was not burned down to the ground like the others in the city in order to preserve the other buildings in the inner city block.[10]

Today over 70 years later I am sitting in the same synagogue that survived the Nazis and their occupation. As I look around at the congregation I wonder about the grey-haired men sitting below. Sitting across from me is a little Jewish woman who looks to be at least the same age as Thomas Frankl. I wonder if they ever ponder their synagogue and its survival in the same manner as me, or if their life and breath is an even more remarkable story of survival than the building. The Nazis gutted this building in 1938 and used its records of Jewish births to aid them in proving Jewish race, address and connection with those “cleaned up” by Eichmann.[11] These people, living in a city that continually tried to eradicate them, still remain and I think of Ruth Kluger’s novel Still Alive and hope to read her German novel Weiter Lebens (which translates living and still living).

Le Chaim.

---

[1] Steven Beller, A Concise History of Austria, 33-34

[2] The text and translation made available by the Art Forum am Judenplatz 2. Today the plaque with the Latin inscription remains mounted on this address.

[3] Steven Beller, A Concise History of Austria, 68

[4] Steven Beller, Concise, 88.

[5] Beller, Concise, 94..

[6] Beller, Concise, 97.

[7] Beller, Concise, 96-97.

[8] Nicholas Parsons, Vienna A Cultural History, 186.

[9] Parsons, Cultural History, 202.

[10] Information gathered on Jewish Walking Tour in Vienna August 2010.

[11] Thomas Frankl said Eichmann was known as the “clean up man.”

Niemals Vergessen

Today was by far the best day of the program. Hands down. No contest. Today I was honored to meet Thomas Frankl, a Jew born in 1934 in Bratislava. His father, Adolf Frankl, survived his arrest and internment and finally the Death March from Auschwitz. Thomas, his sister and mother went into hiding and survived Hitler’s Final Solution as well. The family was re-united after WWII and to Vienna to escape communism. Adolf Frankl began sketching and painting his Visions from the Inferno.

I will never forget this day. I first heard of Adolf Frankl from a Jewish walking tour I took around the city. There was a sign on his door that said the studio was closed for vacation. I took note of the return date. I went back to the shop where I met a volunteer named George who told me that Thomas, the artist’s son gives guided tours and usually hangs out around the shop in the afternoons or I could send an email and arrange for a guided tour. I sent an email, Thomas replied with a phone number. We arranged a time for the tour that usually takes 45 minutes to an hour. August 27 around 1 pm Professor Stuart, Richard and I went to his studio for the tour.

He spent over three hours with us telling his story and his father’s story.

Their story begins in Bratislava, Slovakia.

Thomas Frankl begins his story by telling us about his Father, Adolf Frankl. He brings out a prisoner’s hat and tells us how “one of those un-humans” would treat the prisoners. At roll call the prisoner would hold their hat at their right side. An SS officer would at times take the hat and throw it over to the electrified fence and order the prisoner to retrieve it. When the prisoner obeyed the orders the sniper in the tower would shoot the convict attempting an ‘escape.’ After telling this story he Thomas ponders the situation. The sniper may have really thought it was an escape attempt or the prisoner could have just been caught in the middle of a sick game. Thomas Frankl says, “alles ist möglich” (everything is possible).

Then Thomas tells us about the Judenstern, the yellow Jewish star. His mother was arrested and sent to a labor camp for hiding the star by holding her purse across her chest while on the streets, covering the piece of yellow fabric. She escaped the labor camp, aided by a woman in the camp.

Thomas has the same purse that his mother carried. Inside of it is her handkerchief. Thomas pulls it out and puts it in his shirt pocket saying, “So I can always feel her with me.” Inside her purse is also a candle that they would carry into the shelters during air raids. As a Jew with no access to shelters he said, “some people helped but not too many.” In the next breath he explains, “we never generalize” and that is why he lives in Austria. Unlike Ruth Kluger who remembers Vienna as the “city [that] hated Jewish children,” Thomas remembers Vienna as a haven from communism.

Thomas Frankl goes on with his story. On the day after Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement, a holy day), September 28, 1944, the Nazis arrested his family. This shows Nazi’s organization and planning: arresting families when all were together for holiday at night when all would be at home. Thomas explains that the law was to write on the door the family members name and religion. His mother wrote Roman Catholic instead of Jew and the family was not arrested at this time. However, a man whose son worked for Adolf Frankl noticed the Frankl family was not arrested and tells the police a Jewish family was missing. The family was then arrested.

Thomas pauses to tell a story that describes his father’s character. After the war and after his father’s death march, internment and arrest the same man who assured the arrest of the Frankl family met Adolf alive again. His father forgave the man and employed him again. Thomas tells this story through tears as he remembers and loves his father.

He returns to the story of his family’s arrest. His family was taken to Eichmann’s assistant who questions his mother. She assures the man that they were not Jewish but had been brought to the station by mistake. They decided to send her and her children home (Thomas and his sister) but would only arrest Adolf, his father, who was undeniably Jewish. Thomas’ mother asks for an escort out of the station and two soldiers escorted her and her children out as an Aryan.

He explains to us that Eichmann was “the cleanup man.”
This is when Professor Stuart mentioned that I had voice recorder and Thomas agreed to let me record the rest of our time together. I will kick myself for a long time for missing the beginning of his story. He tells us more details of his hiding, his father’s story and then about his father’s art. For those interested you can listen here as soon as I figure out how to get it online.

To be continued…

United Nations

Today is UN visitation day. To get ready I do my hair and make-up so I look more presentable than I usually do when I head to class. I also quadruple check that I have my passport with me. As we co through security I notice that they were less concerned with the presence of my passport than I was and I am reminded of the time I went to Ethiopia under the impression that I needed the Yellow Fever Flu vaccination. I did receive the shot among 5 others when I did not have complete immunization records proving I was protected against certain childhood diseases. Anyways, the airport security in Addis Ababa did not care to see my Yellow fever certification that I spent a week sick (puking) after inoculation. I offered the yellow fever certificate to the security anyways to make myself feel better. The passport issue at the UN was not that big of a deal.

Now on to Vienna instead of Addis Ababa.

The United Nations in Vienna is one of four in the world. Other cities hosting the United Nations are New York (NY, USA), Geneva (Switzerland), and Nairobi (Kenya).

There are six official languages: English, French, Russian, Chinese, Arabic and Spanish. In order to be a translator one must be fluent in three of the official languages and one of them must be the mother tongue. I am 1/3 of my way there. A story that wonderfully explains the art of translation is as follows: a Russian diplomat was telling a joke. Jokes are usually lost in translation. So in order not to offend the diplomat by a failed joke, the translator told it’s listens, “the Diplomat is trying to tell a joke, please laugh softly.” The audience laughed, the diplomat thought he was funny, so all were pleased and war was diverted (italics are my own addition).

Here is another attempt at translation humor:



The United Nations in Vienna is the headquarters of the IAEA, the International Atomic Energy Agency (http://www.iaea.org/). This agency dates back to the Manhattan project and has been in operation since Captain Robert Lewis, co-pilot of the Enola Gay, uttered his famous words “my God, what have we done.” The IAEA has since made its mission to never have to utter those words again in the context of atomic war. The main objectives of the IAEA are non-proliferation and security. There are 187 countries that have signed the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) and four categories of atomic states.
1. Nuclear Weapons Sates: USA, Russia, United Kingdom, Franc and China
a. These states have detonated nuclear bombs before January 1967
b. Under the NPT pledge not to transfer nuclear weapons and pledge to facilitate
peaceful use of nuclear energy
2. Non-Nuclear Weapon States: 182 states in total
a. Pledge not to proliferate
b. Accept IAEA safeguards
3. States outside NPT
a. India and Pakistan; declare they are without nuclear energy
b. Israel: is without declared nuclear energy, but sources believe they have it
4. Abandoned NPT States
a. North Korea
b. The UN diplomatically dealt with N Korea to avoid war

In regards to security the IAEA advises states in safety and security guidelines but leaves it up to individual states to enforce the protocols. They write the laws and run the atomic world on paper then hope for the best. It would drive me crazy to feel like my hands were tied when a nation thumbs its nose at my laws, however I understand the importance of legislation. Nothing is illegal unless the law says it first. Precedence is key.

From the IAEA we headed to lunch where one of my classes noted interest in a UN internship on account of the economical and scrumptious cuisine. I liked the price but expected more from my vegan dish of Indian food, and remind myself not to have such high expectations for meatless dishes in the schnitzel capital of the world.

Our next main lecture is on Human Trafficking, “Affected for Life” (http://www.unodc.org/unodc/en/human-trafficking/index.html) Trafficking is a global problem that is complicated due to the amount of parties involved in the crime. There are recruiters, transporters, smugglers, harborers, and receivers. The crimes also usually cross international borders and the victims are detained under force, deception, fear, and coercion. As part as the UN’s offensive against trafficking, the UNODC (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime) train police for signs of trafficking and create tools to prevent, suppress and punish.

I am quite interest in the area of human rights, from gypsies to Jews in the Holocaust, to Darfur and beyond. I could see myself working in an institution that deals with human trafficking or other human rights agencies that were more hands on with the victims than the UN. The internship at the UN is only two months and I get excited about the open doors after a short commitment. When I get back to my apartment I fill out the application for the UCDC program. My interest in an internship in Washington DC is re-ignited and I plan on extending my final year at Davis one more quarter. I’m not sure if I’ll ever end up in DC, but I decide to take professor Stuart’s advice, to “throw out hooks” of opportunity and walk through the open doors. I’m spontaneous and flexible enough to get excited about the adventures that lay ahead.

In Search of Kindertransport Denkmal

25 August 2010

After a long day of debriefing Mauthausen and walking from the Jewish Museum to the Military History museum I caught a ride to Westbahnhof in search of a memorial that I heard about on my second Jewish walking tour. I heard that there was a memorial to commemorate the British for receiving Vienna’s children in das Kindertransport. In December of 1938 (nine months after the Anschluss) the Refugee Children Movement organized the transport of over 10,000 children out of Vienna to England in order to save them from the concentration camps. I found myself on a mission to find this memorial. How hard could it be to find?

It proved to be quite difficult, so difficult in fact that I left without having ever found it. I didn’t leave because I was tired and hungry after two other museums since lunch (although I was indeed ‘hangry’). I left because I had spent an hour searching for it and asked five different people who worked there if they knew where it was. One of the answers was to hand me a map while circling the tourist information desk at Albertina Platz, telling me to ask them as if to say memorials are for tourists. That was while I was inside the building. Here I did find one plaque with the inscription, “Niemals Vergessen” (never forget), but not the right one.

Since my search failed inside the building I decided it must be outside by where the trains are. That is where I would put it, so people who arrive and depart can all happen upon this memorial. No dice. I was not ready to give up yet. Since it wasn’t outside by the trains, it must be at a main entrance. That’s also a logical place to put it, so everyone entering from the streets would remember this opposition to fascism and never forget the lives of children lost. I walked around the entire building and looked at each entrance and still could find no Kindertransport Denkmal. Then I proceeded to walk home thinking it may be in the parks up the street. Just across the street I found a gigantic and impossible-to-miss statue, in the middle of the road, commemorating Lueger (which is quite troubling considering his anti-Semetic ideologies).

I arrived home trying to give my failed search a couple benefits of doubt. One: maybe I was unable to find it because it was not actually there and I had been given false information. Two: or it could have been removed for safe keeping while parts of the station are under construction. Three: maybe it was there and just hiding right underneath my nose. However, I do not believe any of my doubts would withstand trial. One: when I returned home to the Internet I was able to confirm that the statue was there at some point through picture evidence in two locations, which I will locate just in case I missed it. Two: if it used to be there, why did not one person I asked know about it or seem to even recognize the term ‘kindertransport’ (I’ll give a little grace for the possibility for a loss in translation)? I obviously have questions and some may wonder why I care.

I have three main concerns: First, I am concerned that I was directed to a tourist info booth while looking for a memorial. Is a memorial solely a tourist attraction? Second, why is a memorial so hard to find? Should it not be in plain sight in order to be seen by the most amount of people as possible? Finally, why did not one single employee know about it and more poignantly, why did they not even seem to know about the kindertransport? I am not the most perceptive person in the world and can understand not noticing a statue. However, I walked away not certain if those I asked even had any idea what the Kindertransport was, which is most troubling. How can one “never forget” (which is a slogan written across the memorials of the Holocaust) what one has no clue about in the first place? Maybe some of my concerns and questions will subside if I am able to find this elusive memorial before I return to California. I have one week, however I’m not sure if I can rest until it’s found.

…to be continued.





I finally found it. It was however, in plain view and I cannot believe I missed it. While I may have been blind, my concerns are still there, why could I not find a single person who worked in the place who could point me to the location of this memorial? I asked the info desk at the OBB that the memorial sits next to and I even asked the workers of the info booth that the memorial stares at day in and day out. Not a single person could point me in the right direction. As I photographed the memorial, I did notice travelers stopping by to read the plaque about the kindrtransport memorial. At least a few more would never forget.

Mauthausen

I’m struggling with what to say about visiting a Concentration Camp for my first time. First off, it’s funny to think about asking somebody, was this your first time assuming there would be more visits. In that question I start scrutinizing myself wondering if I had reacted in the correct way. On the way there I was afraid of the emotions I would feel I wondered if I would loose it emotionally—would I weep uncontrollably or become furiously irate? How is one supposed to react in a place of 200,000 murders?

I prepared for this excursion by re-reading my underlined portions of Ruth Kluger’s book Still Alive and Adolf Frankl’s Art Against Oblivion. I have Ruth Kluger running through my brain: “the missing ingredients are the odor of fear emanating from human bodies, the concentrated aggression, the reduced minds.” I also have the images of Adolf Frankl’s life in Auschwitz imprinted in my mind. Through his art, I see the agony, horror and torture the Holocaust inflicted upon this man (and countless others). In his painting The Crematoria, he talks about the stench of burning flesh. I decide I will breathe deep when I walk in and take notice of the smells

We drove over a bridge with railroad tracks on our way to Mauthausen. Were these the same train tracks that Eichmann used to transport the prisoners? Then we drove through the quaint little town of Mauthausen. It seems like a sweet, innocent and classic little Austrian town. As we reached the top of Errinerung Strasse (Memory Street) and arrived at the camp I first looked at the view from the top of the hill. It was a beautiful view of the whole entire town resting peacefully below. I wondered if the prisoners were able to see the freedom below as they lived through their hell on earth. Then I wondered if the town below could see the camp and if they knew the atrocities committed in their town’s quarry. Then I wonder if I would have known if I lived in Mauthausen in 1941. Then I wonder if I would have done anything even if I had known.

Inside the camp I don’t smell any unusual odors. The air is crisp and fresh.

On our tour we make our way to the Memorial Garden. I find myself irritated as I have to stay with the group and listen to the tour guide. She asks us questions about what we think the monuments mean, and have a volunteer from our group read quotes of survivors and details of the Holocaust’s horrors. I want to get away, not because I can’t handle the information, I’ve read more and plenty more gruesome details before. I resent being tied to a group of people as I walk through the grounds of the death camp where thousands were murdered. I turn around and find myself staring at a pile of stones climbing up the giant Menorah, the memorial to the Jewish victims. I’m caught off guard, as tears well up in my eyes and my chin quivers. I grow more upset: because of the rain in Vienna I left my sunglasses at home. Now it’s hot and sunny and I have nothing to cover my eyes and I can’t let these strangers see me cry, I never cry, my boyfriend has only seen me cry a handful of times and we’ve known each other over six years. My God I’m petty. I gain composure and stick with the group (at my own pace).

We enter into a long discussion about Das Experiment, the German film based on the Stanford prison experiment (http://www.prisonexp.org/). The experiment uncovers how easily ordinary citizens opt to commit crimes against humanity when under the direction of someone in charge. This is similar to Hannah Arendt’s argument in The Banality of Evil. The Holocaust death machine was not run by armies of psychopathic SS men, but by ordinary citizens. I find myself surrounded by 30 ordinary citizens: a few Jews, a few Conservatives and a lot of Liberals. I wonder about how we would fit into the dynamics of perpetrator, bystander, and victim. Would any of us have opted for resistance? Next we enter the prisoner camp.

The inside of the barracks smell old and musty.

The last place our tour guide takes us in the gas chamber. We see where the zyklon b gas was fed into the cement chamber. Then less than 30 of us cram into the tomb where 80-100 walking skeletons breathed their last breath, contaminated with a lethal dose of pesticide. I wonder about Ruth Kluger’s father and his elbows. I look at the walls and the door: the last structure 200,000 inmates scratching, clung to hoping to breakthrough for fresh air. Fresh air for them however being coupled with the stench of burning flesh and the ashes of the prisoners that died before them.

I smell my fellow students: hints of flowery shampoo, perfume and cologne.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sobs of some of my classmates. I walk through the door, counting my steps to the gate: 282. As I stare out the gate all I see is the Menorah straight ahead and the Memorial Garden that replaced the SS officers barracks. I don’t know how many more steps it would have taken make it out of the main gate. Two-hundred-and-eighty-two would have only led me face to face to those coerced into the banality of evil. The futility astounds me. There were 200 ‘stairs’ down into the quarry. Those however have been re-modeled to make it safer for the camp visitors. It was nothing like it was for the prisoners. There was no blood. There were no bodies. There were no prisoners. I had snacks in my backpack in case I got hungry and a sweater in case it turned cold.

The air smelled fresh but hot. I can smell the water in the pond at the bottom of Parachute Wall.

At dinner on our way home to Vienna in Waidhoffen we talk about Mauthausen, the Holocaust and the Jews. The discussion turns too depressing for dinner conversation when we get onto the topic of other atrocities occurring today. We arrived at this when discussing the difference of the Holocaust versus Shoah. Is it a cycle of tragedies or one event? Others wanted to happily drink their wine and beer. I could talk about it all day. Bystanders did not talk about. We did not even face the fear of death, or worse, by talking about it. Today at the camp I learned of an SS officer who was pardoned. When asked about his actions he replied “I can’t believe people could do such things.” The interviewer replied, “You did this.” He could not even admit reality. He could not talk about it. I do not have the officer’s name and could not find his story. It is on my list of things to do.

It rained with thunder and lightening on our way home. Our bus did not sing on the way home from the alps, but we sang on the way home from Mauthausen: Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody among other less epic songs.

Leopold Museum

We were fortunate enough to be a part of the return of Wally to Vienna’s Leopold Museum. Leopold, the personal owner of the Museum’s collection of art loaned Wally for exhibit in New York. While on loan, its original owner who claimed it was stolen from their family during the war came forward to fight for the painting’s return. After years of court and a rather large payout, Leopold bought the painting for a second time. for $19 million. Here is a news article about Wally's return. I also looked for a video of the news wondering if I was caught as a bystander. I was in fact there for the unveiling of Wally, the second half to Schiele's self portrait. It turns out there are a couple of ways to own so much art. One you can be like Leopold and "eat bread instead of schnitzel" or you can commandeer it like the Nazis.

The story of the life and travels of this painting are quite interesting. It is amazing how art gets tangled up in a World War, and not just any war, but with Hitler's war. It is fascinating how Hitler was denied acceptance into Vienna's art school and Vienna's architecture school and he goes on to steal art and to murder millions. Once again I am prompted to insert a film:



Looking at his art, I do not think it sucks, it is by far better than anything I can do. However I am only an amateur art critic and only do so in my spare time. It does enrage me a little bit reading the comments on the youtube post of Hitler's Art. The question, "how would the world be different if Hitler got into art school" is in fact unanswerable. Not that I have not questioned the question myself, because I have pondered it often. It is just appalling to see that so many ignorant youtube commentators blame the art critics for Hitler's Holocaust and World War success, not to mention the other anti-Semitic comments as well.



When it comes to critiquing art, Klimt knows the pain of being rejected as an artist. Gustav Klimt was commissioned to paint four panels for the University. The University however did not like the completed art and that was the end of Klimt's work on the Ringstrasse projects. While the critics rejected Klimt, no matter how eccentric of a man he was, he did not resort to mass murders.

Rewind: Jewish Vienna Walking Tour I & II

I took two walking tours of Vienna that began at Schwedenplatz right outside the McDonalds. Our guide began the tour by informing us about the tour in Vienna’s Bermuda Traingle, where tourists get lost in the bars.

The first documented Jew in Vienna’s history. Schlomo the master minter was the first Jew in Vienna in the thirteenth Century who handled the money Vienna collected from King Richard the Lionheart’s ransom. Returning crusaders however killed Schlomo on their trek home.

We were taken to the house, where the first Jewish family lived during the fourteenth Century In 1400 there was “some kind of a ghetto” built in the Leopoldstadt with the eruz walls. In 1671 Leopold expelled the Jews under the influence of the Spanish Inquisitions and the urging of his Spanish wife and who blamed the Jews for her four miscarriages. Then in 1870s Jews gained some rights in Vienna under the Tolerance Laws of Josef II.

Next we were taken to the Stadttempel. It was built under the toleration acts of Josef II, which regulated that any non-Catholic Church must not be seen from the outside. It is the founding synagogue of a choir led by Schöbert. Because of its hidden location, it was the only synagogue to survive the November Pogrom of 1938, suffering only occupation, pillaging and ransacking by the Nazis. In 1945 Rabbi Löf from Prague reactivated the Synagogue as a Jewish house of worship. Also in 1948 the synagogue held the exhumed body of Theodor Herzl, the founding father of Zionism, before his remains were brought to Israel for burial and final resting place. He was originally buried after his death in 1904 in the Döblinger Friedhof, in his parent’s grave.

Next on tour was the kosher corner. Kosher laws require the separation of meat and dairy. Representing this kosher law are the stores for meat and the bagel and cream store on opposite corners of Seitenstettengasse and Judengasse. It was the Kosher and cleanliness laws that kept the Jews slightly cleaner than other non-Jews, which resulted in a few less deaths during plague years. Jews were hence blamed for causing the plagues and suffered increased persecution.

After that we proceeded to the Niemals Vergessen memorial at the Gestapo house. The memorial is built on the adjacent corner of the location of the Gestapo house, which was destroyed during allied air raids in 1945. The Gestapo House was originally Das Hotel Metropol, a hotel owned by a Jew and confiscated by the Nazis in 1938. Seven hundred Nazis worked in the former hotel. The apartment house built to replace the destroyed Gestapo Hause ordained with a plaque to remember 1945 and the end of the cruel Nazis.

The memorial here was built to remember the political and Jewish victims of fascism. It was built of stones dug out of the Mauthhausen Labor Camp by its prisoners. There is a statue of a single prisoner to represent Austria’s resurrection, wiederauferstanden, from death and hell. There used to be an iron bar across the front that represented the homosexual victims but it has been removed as a form of protest, because the homosexual victims wanted their own memorial. Thence then established a mobile memorial (which I would like to find out more about, the guide could not expound on it).

The difference between the tours takes us from here to a different part of the city. One takes us to Judenplatz, the other across the Danube Canal to Leopoldstadt. In the Judenplatz we find the Resistance Archive close by, Rachel Whiteread’s Memorial to the 65,000 murdered Austrian Jews, the Art Forum and Lessing, the man on tolerance. The other tour takes us to Weg der Erinnerung. This second tour is a tour of plaques that mostly commemorate buildings, synagogues and people that are no longer in existence—victims of fascism. The copper plates of the Memory’s Way number over 120 (and always increasing) throughout the city, mostly in Leopoldstadt, One of the plaques is in a schoolyard, the Nazi’s used this schoolyard as the meeting place for Vienna’s Jew just before deportation. The headmasters of the school do not like the constant memory of Vienna’s cooperation with the Nazis and had it covered with the bike rack. An American complained to the city of Vienna and now the school must keep it viewable and accessible to viewers. The controversies of memory are very interesting: some are ashamed to remember and want to forget and others need to remember to gain closure.

Tour de Danube

Hands down the best day in Austria was not in Vienna but along the River Danube (and I’ll even have to knock hiking in the alps down to number 2). This Saturday, five of us (Kathy Stuart, Harrison, Richard, Sarah and myself) ventured to Krems with our rented bikes and then pedaled our way along the Danube to Melk.

The 41 km (over 25 miles) tour de Danube was perfection. The hills were alive with the music in my head and the terraced vineyards rolling up the hills. Where sidewalks would have been poured, vines of grapes met the road with rosebushes interspersed to flavor the wine just right. The cyclist could reach out a grab a bunch of grapes directly from the vine if one was so inclined.

As we ventured along the Danube we came across Dürnstein. On the top of the hill overlooking the quaint town is the actual fortress that held King Richard the Lionheart and crusader in 1192. Leopold V, after a dispute with England’s King at the siege in Acre, took the opportunity to kidnap the Lionheart in disguise while attempting to return home after crusading. Richard was later released when England raised the ransom through “ruinous taxes.” It is a grand story and even grander of a story for me to say, “I rode by Richard the Lionheart’s prison on a bike ride along the Danube.”

This was not the only castle on the hilltops along the Danube. Every couple of kilometers there was another castle, ruins or something of historical significance. In one city we stopped by a church. Its foundations were built on a pagan site of worship that dated back to the 800s. The church hosted a wedding, so we did not go inside but the church had a spiral staircase in the back of an unattached tower behind the church and its small cemetery. The top was open and overlooked the Danube and the town. There was an information plaque at the top that mentioned an altar made out of skulls. The cellar it was contained in at the bottom of the tower was closed but it was viewable through the windows. Not once in all my life had I imagined an altar built out of stones would exist and that I would have the chance to see it.

Besides being welcomed by castles and interesting churches from Austria’s hillsides along the Danube, we were also welcomed by another aspect of Austira’s rich culture: Heurigen. As we grew hungry from our tour we could stop for a glass or two of this years wine and fill our bellies with a snack of authentic Heuriger food: bread and cheese spreads. The delicacy is called Griebenschmalz, which is a rendered fat with crunchy pieces of pork mixed in and spread over bread. I can tell you the bread was tasty, while others I dined with could expound on the deliciousness of the non-vegan fare.

We arrived in Melk by crossing the Danube over hydro-electric plant after the miles of the Danube trails up and down hills, through towns and over a few unpleasant cobblestone streets. My fondest memories of this trip is soaking my feet in the cool Danube and listing to the “wahoos” from a fellow traveler as we coasted down the hills with the wind in our hair. As we caught the train home, I couldn’t help but decide that if I had a choice I would ride my bike along a river like this every Saturday for the rest of my life. It is a shame I forgot my camera.

Schatzkammer und Kaisergruft

Schatzkammer displays the majesty of the Habsburgs kings. The jewels on the crown of this dynasty are a reminder of the wealth, power and prestige that the Habsburgs flaunted. Even the baby’s crib puts all other cribs to shame. While the Habsburgs were the faces of the empire, there were hordes of people who ran the household and the court and changed the babies’ diapers. The court, which was the power behind the scenes that ensured the crowns were polished instead of wearing them, were not defined as the court but “as a family extended to include all persons who were called to serve it.”[1]

The Treasury displays its most valuable pieces and I found that the exhibits here really helped me recognize the difference between Gothic and Baroque styles. Many of the Gothic pieces, which date before the 1600, are mostly black and have very intricate designs. The Baroque is more like a sunburst that stands out because of its grandeur and gold. The Treasury has the pieces labeled with dates so it makes it easy to place the artifacts on a timeline and see how they change through styles of the centuries.

While the Schatzkammer holds the evidence of the Habsburgs life, the Kaisergruft holds the evidence of their death. The Kaisergruft is in fact the resting place for the remains of Habsburgs themselves. If the crown had any indication of their wealth, the Emperor’s Tomb made sure to immortalize their power and prestige after death. The Habsburgs’ coffins are by no means any ordinary coffins, but they are massive and decorated with skulls and crowns. The most spectacular is Marie Theresia, who is on top of her casket seated with a sword in her hand and a Cherub giving her an eternal crown. Also, close by us a stone replica of her earthly crown and other pieces that are similar to those on display in the treasury. It makes sense that someone who resided in Schönbrunn just for the summer would need something spectacular for Austria to mourn the loss of its Empress. Being in the cool tomb where the Holy Roman Emperors of Germany are laid to rest was not only eerie but pretty awesome.

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[1] John P. Spielman, The City and the Crown, 53.

Wien Stadt Museum

The Wien Stadt Museum is an incredible museum that is very nicely organized and small, which makes it quite concise and easy to through in one visit. Even though it is small in size, its exhibits are far from lacking. Each of Vienna’s main events in History are accounted for and my visit to this museum really helped me review everything I’ve been learning in Vienna.

I loved the medieval exhibits of the Gothic the stained glass windows. Instead of being high up in the far away windows of a church, the museum Gothic’s stained glass windows were at eye level, close enough to touch if I so dared (but I didn’t). It was incredible to see the lead outlines and the construction of the glass. The colors were also so vibrant with the details of shading illuminated with a backlight. It is amazing the time, skill and effort the master guilds put into one section of a windowpane. It also astounds me when a fragile artifact such as glass survives throughout centuries intact. The stained glass is indeed some of my favorite pieces of art.

Another fascinating piece of Art in the Wien Museum is a 17^th Century painting Christ Before Pilate. Pilate was the governor charged with keeping the peace when Jesus was on trial, accused by the Jewish priests and elders. He questioned Jesus and repeatedly found no fault with him but the Jewish community was on the brink of riot over the fate of Jesus. Pilate did not want to crucify Jesus and had even offered to release one prisoner—Jesus or Barabbas—which was the custom. It was a choice like do you want chocolate chips or glass in your cookies, the Jews, of course, chose glass. Pilate washed his hands of their choice and the Jews said, “His blood shall be on us and our children.” Barabbas was set free and Jesus crucified. (Matthew 27:11-26; Matthew 27:25 NASV Bible).This painting depicts the point when the Jews decided to murder the innocent Jesus Christ instead of a convicted felon and murderer. The hypocrites rejected their law of eye for an eye and demanded the blood of not just any innocent man, but the Son of God and the Virgin Mary. This is anti-Semitic enough without the inscription of the text in the lower left, “With this bloodthirsty trial and judgment, thus did the godless Jews behave and treat Jesus the Saviour of the world. How such was found in Vienna under the earth, hewn of stone.” This anti-Semitism depicted in the 17^th Century painting resulted in the expulsion of Jews from Vienna in the same time span under Leopold I.

Besides the stained glass and Jewish relevant art, I also found the Turkish wars collection quite fascinating. The Relief Battle, a representation of the Polish forces joining Prince Eugene to save Vienna in 1683 against the Turks, shows the bloody battle with decapitated Viennese victims as the barbarous Turks ravage the innocents. Also in this collection is a map of the Turkish tents surrounding the city walls that was drawn from a spy’s memory and came in handy in the final battle. I loved seeing the amateur art and the details that were considered important to include on the map like the flags and the colors and crosses. The weaponry also is quite fierce.

There is plenty more to see in this museum including Schiele and Klimt and collections on the revolutions but the last collection I will go over is the Biedermeier collection of art. I mentioned the sole Biedermeier painting in the Belvedere we discussed with Dr. O, the Wien Stadt Museum presents its Biedermeier art with a hallway, statues and an entire apartment room. The scenes in the art, “celebrate the family, dramatize the consequences of lack of respectability, or evoke personal sorrow in a patriotic context.”[1]

Biedermeier brings the focus inward to the family in response to the heavy censorship of the Metternich regime. The patriotic genre came in response to Vienna’s humiliation when Vienna’s allies, the French, lost at Waterloo and the end of the Habsburgs, the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire. Upon the French Revolutions, Metternich’s rule came in to avoid any whisperings of revolt. Metternich was the “fireman,” putting out the fires of revolution.[2] This art shows happy peasants, happy families and happy Austrians—those who had more important things on their minds than revolution. The apartments are dark and closed, hoping to close out the watchful eye of Metternich and avoid accusation of revolutionary inclinations.

Finally this Museum’s most awesome addition was that of Richard the knight.

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[1] Nicholas Parsons, Vienna a Cultural History, 196.

[2] Steven Beller, A Concise History of Austria, 115.