A Song about Zmrzlina

July 11

Today was our last history full day/weekend trip, and our destination this time was Terezín. Terezín was a former military fortress which got converter into a Jewish concentration camp and political prisoner labor camp during WWII. Therefore, we all knew that this trip would not be lighthearted or have the same air of adventure that some of our previous trips possessed. I am not a mind reader, but it seemed to me that we all mentally prepared ourselves in some way beforehand. Even though I personally tried my best to avoid slipping back into my "ignorance is bliss", "pretend none of this exists" mentality, I could not help myself from adopting that attitude as a "coping" mechanism. As a result, I spent a large portion of the trip in a weird cross of trying to absorb valuable information while not allowing it to seep in farther than the surface. I let the words sit upon my skin in an attempt to later quietly remove the experience and store it in a locked drawer, like a winter coat on spring's first warm day. However, upon removal, a residue of feelings still remained, unable to be shed, unable to be forgotten.

When we arrived at Terezín, I was surprised that it looked like a regular town. I was expecting to see a mock-camp like Vojna, but instead I saw a town square, buildings, grass, and the regular makings of a town.  We then moved on to a museum that documented the history of Terezín. I learned that when Jewish people were told they were being moved there, they assumed it was like a new settlement for them where at least they would all be together and could live without the strict discrimination laws that were in place in various European cities. Therefore, the first "deportation" group to go to Terezín consisted of craftsmen who could begin building up the city for the future settlers. With this mentality of building a new town, the settlers of Terezín made the concentration camp into a model camp that was used in German propaganda to advertise how "grand" and "functional" concentration camps were. However, the conditions were far from lovely: crowded three-bed bunks, not enough food, disease, and high death rates. That being said, the inhabitants began to realize that those deported to other camps from Terezín were guaranteed a death sentence, so they did their best to remain in Terezín and send the sick and the old off to other camps, therefore providing more time and hope for a better future for the children and the young and healthy. I found this whole idea to be extremely fascinating. They lived by the concept of what is best for the greater good, even though it sometimes meant separating families and making sacrifices.

We later visited a museum where the artwork, literature, and music from the camp was on display. And once again, emotion hit me like a brick when I saw how absolutely beautiful and intricate all of the sketches and pictures were. Here I was admiring the quality of a picture while the artists drew their harsh reality of losing loved ones, of living in the same barrack as death, of not knowing one's future. Later, as I moved on to examining the literature and music, I discovered "magazines" that the children put together and heard chipper songs about ice cream. It seemed like such a juxtaposition that it was bone-chilling and haunting. These poor children did the only thing they could to be able to deal with these concentration camps, and that was entertain themselves with riddles, puzzles, and happy songs. But how could one be happy in such a place, in such a state, with such a fate facing them? Perhaps it was their only choice besides sinking into a state of gloomy depression. Perhaps, just like me, they chose the "ignorance is bliss" approach to escape, even for just a moment and only in their minds, the reality of the situation.