Reliant as ever on the weather to decide on our plan of action, the scheduled rain seemed like a perfect opportunity to make the pilgrimmage to Dacau. The holocaust had always seemed so distant, told in school history lessons as a warning to all humanity of the atrocities of which mankind is capable. Seeing the site where such cruelty had occured would inevitably bring all this pain much closer to home.
The remains of the camp were suitably imposing as we approached, with the stark, pale memorial standing in contrast to the grey pathways and surviving barracks. The entire site was still surrounded by the original barbed wire and fences, enough to shoot shivers up my spine. The message on the gates was a reminder of the unthinkable acts that had occured here.
Luckily Danny knew a lot more about the war and the political events leading up to it than me, and it soon became disturbingly easy to imagine how one power hungry young man turned a despairing nation to such inhumanity. As we contemplated the rifle posts where Jews where once shot, the whole event seemed an unimaginable tragedy, but a terrifying reflection on the capabilities of mankind. Perhaps every European should visit the dark gas chambers of Dacau as a reminder of the past but also for the future. Either way, despite the sun eventually breaking through the clouds, we left Dacau feeling cold inside.
The obvious answer to all this was to head for the nearest Pizza Hut, which we did with some expert driving on Danny's behalf. Disappointly the Olympia gardens were shut, so we headed to the BMV museum next door to escape the downpour for the compulsory posed photographs with motorbikes and cars!
En route home we stopped at a nice bar, where the service was less nice!
We spent the night frequenting various bars and eventually a club called 'Baby' in Munich with Danny's friends.
