THE GRAND TOUR
Germany
They visited Neuschwanstein – the castle built by “Mad” King Ludwig and the inspiration for countless Disney palaces. In very high spirits, they hired a horse-drawn cart to take them up the mountain – they’d had enough of exercise, they both decided – and sang “Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang” all the way to the top. Lorelai was fascinated by the secret passages throughout the castle; Rory was captivated by the story of the King and his decent into madness. Lorelai merely looked around her and commented that this much Wagner could probably drive even the most stable person to jump in a lake.
True to her word, Lorelai’s German was more than passable, and she managed to haggle a decent price for a three-nights stay in Puchheim. From there, they were able to take the train into Munich for more touristy-type activities. They made the Marienplatz their center of operations, because it was both easy to get directions to (in case they wandered too far), and conveniently located near the train stop. Lorelai spent an entire roll of film just on the Rathaus and its giant cuckoo- type clock at the Marienplatz’s center. She also spent half a roll of film on the gargoyles around the square, each of which she and Rory named. Lorelai wondered if maybe, if she was very nice, Luke could rig up two of them to stick on the front corners of her roof for her next birthday. Hans and Franz, she thought, the Gilmore Gargoyles.
After a full day of site-seeing in Munich, they stopped off at the Hofbrauhaus for dinner and the opportunity to experience German beer in it’s native setting. They each ordered a stein and sat back to watch the night’s entertainment – a dirndl-wearing yodeler who had the entire house stomping and clapping.
They took the train out of Puchheim to Dachau the next morning. Birds were chirping in the trees as they entered the front gates of the concentration camp. Rory commented on the innocuousness of it, while Lorelai looked at the way three rows of barbed wire cast shadows in the early morning sun.
They joined up with an English-speaking tour, and followed them over white gravel paths leading through the old cement foundations of barracks, into the main administration building. It was now a museum. They were guided through the exhibits. Although the museum was full of people, the only noise was shoes scuffing on the well-worn wooden floor.
Lorelai and Rory separated inside, each following their own interests. Lorelai stopped in front of a display of photos. The pictures of large families, striking women, distinguished men, and boys standing at attention in new uniforms became transposed with images of nameless emaciated corpses, heaped fifty or more-high, waiting for incineration.
She moved onto a list of the men and women who’d been held prisoner there. Along with their name was the crime they’d been charged with and arrested for. Communist, dissenter, Jew, homosexual, vagrant… She couldn’t help but imagine what it must have been like, what would have happened to her friends and family. Morrie and Babbette would have been arrested for their religious beliefs, so would Paris Gellar. That’s if they hadn’t already arrested Paris for dissent – she wasn’t one to keep quiet about things that bothered her. Neither was Taylor, for that matter. Or Luke.
Luke. Sixty-five years earlier, a kind and thoughtful man could have been arrested and killed for building his friend a Chuppah for her wedding day, Lorelai thought. She blinked and swallowed hard. And what about her daughter? What would have happened to her? She was a wonderful person who still cried every time she saw the book-burning scene in ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade’. How long would she have lasted?
Lorelai left the exhibit and found Rory by a selection of journal excerpts and quotes. One quote was larger than the rest, translated into three different languages. Rory was staring at it intently, her lips moving as her eyes passed over the words.
Lorelai read it herself and then said that that Martin Niemoeller sure could pack a punch. Rory nodded and quickly wiped her eyes, commenting that she had heard that quote before, but God – he had been here. This was where he had ended up, what he had been talking about. She trailed off then, lost in thought.
Lorelai looped an arm through Rory’s and led them outside. She didn’t say anything more, letting her daughter compose words in her head that, she was certain, would one day change the world.
They were both quiet on the train back to Puchheim that evening. And Lorelai’s hands didn’t lose their icy chill until much later.
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