A continuation of last Saturday’s adventures.

After the horrors of the concentration camp, we trekked up a mountain to visit the Chateau du Haut-Koenigsburg. It was originally built in the 12th Century, but was sacked and rebuilt in the 15th century, and then sacked again and left to rot up until the early 1900s when it was declared a national monument and completely restored.

Its purpose was mainly for defense, being one of many castles located in this particular area. Its layout is not particularly pretty or ornate, but rather plain. That is not to say that it wasn’t interesting, or even beautiful, but that its purpose was not for its residents to live in grandeur. It will be interesting to compare this visit with the castles we visit just south of Paris. Those are supposed to be highly ornamental and gaudy enough to put the Biltmore mansion to shame.

On the road to the castle, we saw signs for La Montagne des Singes, which is to say, the mountain of monkeys. Nearby, they have a little zoo in which they keep hundreds of monkeys. Our friend Jill told us about the time they went to Monkey Mountain and brought their own popcorn. Apparently, the zoo gives all visitors a little packet of popcorn to feed the monkeys, but it is never enough to last the entire visit. The popcorn they brought was of the microwave variety and had plenty of salt and better. It must have smelled and tasted great to the monkeys because she said all of them began to follow her around and became rather aggressive toward the popcorn. So much so that the guards had to rush out and protect them from the monkeys!

Alas, we didn’t have time to visit the monkeys.

We gathered our people at the bottom of the castle, where there is a lookout point. The castle rests upon the top of a mountain, and the view is splendid. After an hour or so of driving through the mountains, we were all ready to use the restroom, and like most public toilets in France, we had to pay 50 cents to actually use it. Although a few unsavory folks snuck into the stall without paying, because the guard was apparently off duty.

I was first surprised and happy to see that a scene out of the French classic movie, La Grande Illusion, was filmed at the castle. Having just watched the film a few nights before, Amy and I were very excited about this fact. For those curious, it is the scene in which the commander distracts the German soldiers so that the two French soldiers may escape out the window.

The interior of the castle looked very much like what a castle always looks like in my mind’s eye. It was all very large. And I’m not talking about the size of the castle in its entirety, but each individual room or hallway. The walls were all made of large stone blocks. The rooms were very open, with high ceilings. There were Alsacian Windows throughout, but shadows crept along many corridors. And there was a draft felt throughout.

It is difficult to imagine what it must have felt like to actually live there. Pre-electricity, it would have had to have been lit using torches and gas lamps. The multiple fireplaces would have raged most of the night and day to keep any semblance of warmth. Even then, it would have been very cold in many of the spaces, with cold drafts sweeping through. The fires would have kept everything hazy with smoke. And then there was always the thought of attack. The castle was sacked at least twice in its history, and it must have sustained more attacks than that. Much of the time, they were surely at peace, but Alsace has a long history of violence and war.

One side of the castle was a keep, where there were many instruments of war. Cut into the walls were little slivers designed for archers to shoot out of. At our feet were little holes cut into the floor so that boiling oil or whatever could be poured down upon whoever was attacking. I couldn’t help but think of the Battle of Helm’s Deep from The Two Towers. In one room were old weapons of battle: suits of armor, axes, and a variety of spears. In an adjacent room were more modern weapons, including cannons and rifles.

Seeing this castle and many of the medieval cathedrals throughout France always makes me think of life during those times. I can’t imagine. The harsh realities of daily life are unfathomable. If it wasn’t war, malnourishment, or the plague killing you, then it was your own king or the church stringing you up to die.

I am a little late in getting this up. I am finding I have less and less energy for writing anything these days. I also found after writing my account of the concentration camp, I just didn’t have it in me to talk about the castle. Perhaps some other time.

As our time in France is coming to an end, I have come to realize that we are just not going to be able to see everything that we had hoped to see. Though the border is but minutes away, Amy and I have seen very little of Germany, and thus it shall have to wait until another visit some years in the future. I had truly hoped to visit the many castles that the countryside holds, and also to visit some of the many horrors left over from the Third Reich.

This past weekend, I was able to visit one of each of these types of things, albeit in the Alsatian mountainside and not the mythic country that is Deutschland.

Our first stop was the concentration camp Natzweiler-Struthof. Though not the traditional death camp for Jews, it was never-the-less a place of absolute horror for many German criminals and members of the French resistance.

To say that I have been looking forward to visiting a concentration camp is to miss the point. Yes, I have wanted to go for a long time and even felt some anticipation before we left, but I can’t say that I was looking forward to it in any real sense of pleasure. Visiting a place of torture and death is not my idea of a good time. Yet, it seems these places are important, not only in a historical sense but in a manner of trying to understand what we are capable of as human beings.

The camp is located high in the mountains. It is a beautiful area, and I often found myself struck by the majesty of the scenery around me and then the horror of the place below my feet.

Most of the barracks were destroyed by Neo-Nazis many years back. In their foundations are little plaques inscribed with the names of the other concentration camps. This is designed to tie this camp with all the others. What remains of the other buildings is a rebuilt barrack, a kitchen, and a prison in which inmates were tortured, experimented on, and murdered.

In a little ravine beside the camp, little flowers now grow. A placard noted that in this area many inmates were shot dead. It said the inmates were forced to carry large boulders up the hillside and deposit them in the ravine. A soldier would often kick the tired inmate just as he was bending over to drop the boulder. If the inmate fell from this kick, a machine gunner in the watchtower would shoot the inmate pretending it was an escape attempt. For this murder, the gunner would get an extra day of vacation.

At the top of the camp is a large memorial. It is a tall spire sculpted to look like flame and smoke, engraved with the image of a man. Next to the spire are small crosses, each with the name of a resistance fighter who died for the cause of France.

In the prison building, there were many methods of torture set up. Beside the regular cell rooms, were tiny cells designed as solitary confinement. They were about 4 feet in height, and no larger than a small closet. For the smallest fractures, inmates would be locked into these cells for days at a time, given only bread and water for nourishment. In a nearby room, inmates were experimented on. They were inoculated with various diseases such as Typhoid so that doctors could notate how their bodies reacted to them. When the inmates died their torturous deaths, they were then autopsied.

A small bare room was said to be a place of execution room. Inmates, not condemned to die on the gallows, but never-the-less committing some small infraction that angered a guard enough, would be taken into this room and shot in the back of the head. A small drain in the center of the room would wash away the blood.

The most harrowing site was the oven. Like many of the concentration camps, the Nazis decided the most effective way to get rid of the bodies piling up, was to cremate them. This camp held but one oven, but it was enough. To see a thing in which so many were destroyed senselessly, was a thing of horror. I will never forget it.

As I walked to the exit, I took one last look down the slope of the mountain, taking in the entire camp. Thinking about all I had just seen, I said a small prayer.

Let us remember what we are capable of, so we shall not forget what we have done.

It has been absolutely gorgeous here the last four days. The sun has shined brightly, the few clouds have been white and puffy, and the temperature has hovered around the upper 60s. Yesterday was just about perfect. I slept until around 9:30 (lazy I know, but what perfect day would have me waking up early?) We finally got out of bed, had breakfast, lounged about basking in the sun coming in through the window, and prepared for the day. After a shower, dressing, and a light lunch we focused our thoughts on what we would like to do for the day. We decided it was too pretty to do anything productive and went for a leisurely walk.

Nearby one of the universities has a botanical garden. Our feet took us there. We were a little disappointed because though many flowers have been planted almost none have actually sprouted. Still, there was a pond and lots of greenery. We relaxed in the sun and contemplated whether we should spend our afternoon sitting by the water or travel on and find the Orangerie.

We decided to travel and walked through the city towards the European Parliament. Next to this governmental building, there is a large park. Unbeknownst to me, until arrival, there is also a small zoo. We gazed at a wide variety of birds including peacocks and ostrich, and some monkeys and emus.

On the opposite side of the zoo is a lovely stretch of green grass which surrounds a little pond. We sauntered around the water and bought some ice cream on the far end. Sauntering back we found a bench to sit on and sat out the remainder of the afternoon. There is nothing better than sitting in the sun on a beautiful stretch of land with the girl you love.

In the evening I went to the boys and played the French version of Monopoly. It’s an old game so everything is in Franks. That was a bit disconcerting because the highest denomination was a 50,000 frank versus the piddling 500 US dollar in the American version. I never knew how much money I really had. Not that this disturbed my game playing any, for I mopped the floor with the other players. Yes, my friends I won, and I won big.

After, I picked up Amy from Pamela’s and we walked home in the gentle, still night. There have been better days, I am sure, but I would have to think hard to remember one.