PASSAU: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

                                                                                             

                                                                   HE SAYS:

We have reached the German city of Passau, bordering on Austria, which marks the half-way point in our journey down the Danube to Budapest. In reality, the Danube is a greenish-gray, not blue, contrary to musical fantasies.

Passau captures the paradox of Germany’s modern history: the beauty and the beast.

In one instance the city is certainly one of the loveliest cities that we have seen. Colourful flower boxes hang from the windows and sweet shops and galleries and cafes abound. It has a large industrial base, as well as a university. The city has a large, and ornate, cathedral where we heard an organ recital. To the untutored eye this is the idyllic and stereotypical Danube.

On the other hand, our tour guide, who was fairly thorough, made absolutely no mention of the fact that Passau was home to three subsidiary-camps, which housed Soviet and Polish prisoners, which were part of the infamous Mauthausen concentration camp complex during WW II.

For me, this highlights the bifurcated nature of German history. But social and cultural historians for the past 60 years have been asking the same question: How could the nation of Beethoven and Goethe embrace Nazi barbarism? In this regard it is important to ground our answers in concrete reality; in short, German fascism was a mass political movement, and must be studied as such. To use ethical categories such as “evil” or to talk of “megalomania” is to miss the point. One- out- of three adult Germans belonged to the National Socialist Workers (Nazis) Party.

We arrived in Austria late yesterday afternoon and today saw the stunningly beautiful, and modernly curated, Melk Abbey with its rich Baroque art and its 100, 000 volume library. The weather has been very spotty, with little sun; it rained this afternoon.

Tomorrow we arrive in Red Vienna whose forgotten and unknown modern history, is every bit as interesting as Germany’s. But it ain’t the Julie Andrews version of history….

                                                SHE SAYS:

Last evening in our briefing for today, Andrew told us that the forecast for Melk was warm (27 C) with a possibility of showers, so when we left the ship for our visit to the abbey, we played it safe and brought our umbrellas along. The plan was for buses to take us up the hill to this magnificent building complex that overlooks the town of Melk.  We’d tour the buildings and then we’d have a choice: take the buses back or take the 20 minute walk back to the boat down the hill through Melk’s main street to get a better view of the town.  By the time the tour was over, rain was coming down in sheets, but we had umbrellas with us, it was nice and warm, we needed the exercise, and how long can a shower last, anyhow?  Plus, I knew I woudn’t catch a cold by walking in the rain; I have one already.

If the sun had been out, it would have been wonderful to sit on the patio of one of the restaurants, sipping an Austrian beer while we watched the locals strolling through the open air market buying fresh fruit and veggies, fabulous looking breads and pastries, and all kinds of smoked hams and sausages.  As it was, we ducked into a café for a cappuccino halfway down the hill to drip dry a little, and then, after a stop at the drugstore to get something for my cold, we rushed back to the boat for hot showers and dry clothes.  An hour later, just as we were pulling away from the dock, the rain stopped, the clouds lifted, and the Abbey of Melk stood proudly on the hill in the bright sunshine.  So much for Austrian showers!

40 years ago, I spent 4 years living in Germany with the Canadian Forces.  Rather than living in married quarters on the bases, we chose to live “on the economy”, in German towns.  At that time, the children learned English at school, but few of the adults spoke it, so we had to learn to communicate in German (admittedly with lots of hand gestures).  It’s been amazing for me to see how much German I still understand.  I can read many of the signs, and in restaurants and cafes I can read enough of the menu to find the schnitzel or the `hot chocolate or the local beer. I can ask directions and if the locals speak slowly enough, I can even understand some of their answers. 

So when I decided to go into the drugstore to ask for something for my cold, I was sure I’d be able to let the pharmacist know exactly what I needed.  The easy part was the throat lozenges; they were on a shelf near the counter.  When the pharmacist came to serve me, I held up the lozenges, and in my most fluent German, I said, “Ich bin krank.  (I am sick).  Hier (pointing to my throat) und hier (pointing to my nose).”  The pharmacist thought for a bit, then went to the back and returned with 2 packages, put them on the counter, and said in English, “I’d recommend one of these products for your congestion.  This one has pseudoepinephrine, etc, but if you’d prefer a more natural herbal remedy, this one is also good.”  See what I mean?  I’ve still got that old mastery of the German language.  She understood me perfectly!