Fin?

The course has officially concluded. The tours are over. The language classes come to an end. The familiar chatter of our exuberant group silenced. Still, in true Honors student fashion, I refuse to acquiesce to the writings of T.S. Eliot. This blog post is no whimper.

So let us resume where we left off. I last wrote concerning our spectacular Berlin trip. Much has taken place since then, none of it any less important. Our group visited the historical city of Celle, the infamous camps of Bergen-Belsen, and the beautiful city of Muenster.

Celle. A city whose beauty has withstood the grim history of its country. Celle is most notable for the fact that it stands as one of the only historical cities that was never bombed in either of the great wars. No flames have licked the ancient wood of these buildings. No shells directed towards its picturesque streets. It is preserved. A living monument of the progression from past to present.

The concentration camps of Bergen-Belsen were no less an interesting visit. Moving from a delicious German lunch in Celle amongst friends to the site where thousands were calculatingly executed would require inner preparation. The bus ride there was evidence enough of this. There was the typical level of chatter and conversation but immediately after coming into range of the camp there was silence. There was no cue. Nobody pointed the camp out. A busful of unsettled students entered those solemn grounds with a hush of respect and an air of disconcertion. The tour began with a brief introduction to the organization and history of the camp. The guide shared with us photos of places we'd soon visit. Chilling photos of a gruesome time we won't soon forget. We then walked outside to the mass graves, stood infront of the former location of the barracks, and eyed the pebble-covered memorials with quiet reverence. It was a simple tour, not much needed to be said. Just a minor understanding of the events which took place was all that was needed to touch the coldest of hearts. There was only one sound which seemed out of place in the serenity of the camp. Situated next to the site is apparently a military training area. The sound of exploding shells along with the rhythmic ra-tat-tat of gun fire was constantly ringing amongst the surrounding forest. I wasn't sure what I thought about this. On one hand it lended an eerily appropriate context to the camp. On the other it broke the tranquility and calm of the place. Odd, too, was the idea of an area designed to train the practice of killing located next to a memorial for those who had been killed...

Muenster is beautiful. This city was built around an ancient monastery (from which it draws its name) and has since grown into a sprawling garden of German life. This is no Berlin, there is no bustle of cars or horizon specked with towering skyscrapers. The cobbled streets and stone houses along the mainroad speak of a quieter lifestyle. The gingko trees and bicycle-focused transportation give this city a very different feel from the industrial grey of others. I definitely enjoyed this tour. Though short, it showed another perspective to Germany's culture.

Much has also occured in the area of Balu and Du since last contact. So let's see, first things first. Food. We were to make the Mowgli's a few typical American snacks. The options were smores, fruit smoothies, rice crispy treats, chocolate chip cookies, and mud pies. Alyssa and I were tasked with preparing the mud pies with the kids. So just in case you, Mr/Mrs/Ms reader, have no idea what a mud pie is, let me explain. We did not gather wet earth from the nearest pond nor did we harvest this snack in buckets after a rain. A mud pie is a snack comprised of chocolate pudding, crushed Oreo cookies, and gummy worms. The general method of preparation is to place some pudding in a cup, followed by Oreo crumbs, and then a few gummy worms are thrown in. The process is then repeated to create a layered cup of that great ol' American dish: mud pie. Well, seeing as this dish isn't very difficult to make, we figured we would let the two Mowgli's at our station make them. The ingredients are gathered at the table and a few bags to crush the Oreos in are obtained. Have you ever given something to a child and then told them they could crush it? Ohmigawsh. The poor cookies never stood a chance. It was like throwing a turkey leg into a pit full of starving lions. Not even double bagging the cookies prevented pieces of chocolate from scattering across the table. Meanwhile, the remaining cookies could only sit, frozen in horror, as they awaited their doom. But! The pies were completed successfully and soon we were out in the garden playing a game of soccer with Balus and Mowgli's alike. It was a great chance to interact with those involved in the program.

We also had the wonderful opportunity to interview the Balu's in a casual setting. We were informed that there would be two from our group for every Balu for each interview. There I was with my interviewing buddy Alyssa when who other than Mr. Lucien should come sauntering over. I was going to get my own Balu to interview. It was to be just me and a Balu. Of course, I ran through some nightmarish situations where she'd be speaking something in German at me frantically and I'd be left sitting there. Alone and afraid. But I took the chance and accepted. Mr. Lucien is like Yoda. Somehow he knew that by pushing me to do a one-on-one interview I'd be better off. I was like a baby hawk. Mr. Lucien was the big hawk pushing me out of the nest. He wasn't the mother hawk of course. That'd be weird. Unless he kidnapped my egg long ago with the intention to eat me, but I hatched too soon and my lovable hawk-charm won him over. But I don't think Hawk-Lucien would eat hawk eggs anyway. He's a cool hawk. Anyway, I was like a baby hawk. Once I was pushed from the nest, I fell a few feet, hit a branch or two on my way down, looked around, then ushered my feeble little wings forth to catch the glorious wind of success. In other words, the interview went well. There were only three or four awkward silences which I efficiently dispatched with a question I probably already knew the answer to. It was kind of like a bag of popcorn in the microwave. At first the bag just sits there. Then a few kernels pop. Then all of a sudden the popping frequency increases! Kernels are frantically popping left and right! Then the popping slows down. Eventually the kernels slow to less than one pop every few seconds and that's when you know the popcorn is done. Of course, in this scenario the popping kernels were questions.
After the popcorn was done, I told her I was going off to buy a jacket. Her eyes lit up. She was apparently a huge shopping person. She knew all the stores in the area and she usually went shopping in between classes. Score. She tagged along to the sports clothing store and I got a stylin' new jacket for a great price with little to no hassle. I choose to believe that herr Lucien knew that this would happen. I owe Yoda-Hawk-Lucien a high five.

Then of course, there was the farewell dinner. Our food was ordered, drinks were delivered, and raucous prosts were had all around. It was a great restaurant and an even greater setting for the evening's proceedings. We surprised our hosts with humble gifts thanking them for everything they had done for us. Then we ourselves were surprised when they distributed to us a certificate, photo disc, and commerative picture for taking part in the program. Osnabrueck Spring School ist toll. The people in charge were incredibly kind and organized. One could hardly tell this wasn't a program which had been in place for years. We said our goodbyes to some of the organizers and went back to our dorm buildings for the evening.

The rest of the trip was more or less a blur. We were whisked onto a train to Frankfurt upon return from Muenster and soon we had arrived at the hotel, the final destination of our journey. From here our group separated into clusters and we spent the final night of our trip in the company of friends.

The trip itself is now over. Our group separated and set upon their individual paths. We may forget some of the historical facts presented to us during this trip. We might not remember exactly how Osnabrueck was arranged. But there are some things that will not fade and those are perspective and friendship. We are no longer Americans visiting Europe. We are humans living on Earth. Hopefully the trip has instilled in us an antidote to the horrible effect of tunnel vision so frequently encountered in the average citizen. Far more important though are the bonds formed on this trip. I learned quite a bit about those in our group, some things surprising, other things not so much, but I'm sure I don't speak soley for myself when I say I've made new friends. Amazingly great friends in fact. I sincerely wish all of those in our group wonderful travels and the best of luck in whatever you're pursuing. As for myself, I will make an attempt to continue posting about my continued travels in Europe.

Till next time amigos.