Art & Travel Photo Journal

[Photo Journal] Eagle’s Nest – Kehlsteinhaus

The Eagle's Nest at Obersalzberg in Berchtesgaden, Germany.

photojournal

Myra here.

Every Tuesday, we share photographs from our recent or long-ago travels, or just everyday stuff that appealed to our mindful eye and sharp sensibilities as captured through fleeting images.

Eagle’s Nest in Germany – Kehlsteinhaus

Visiting the Kehlsteinhaus last year was one of the highlights of our trip. It was truly an experience, especially since not all vehicles can get into this rocky outcrop, meant to be a gift to the Fuhrer for his 50th birthday. The Nazi Party literally carved a mountain as a safe and stunning space just for him and his people. According to Wikipedia:

The buses have special modifications to take on a slight angle, as the steep road leading to the peak is too steep for regular vehicles. 

This is the view that one sees upon reaching the summit. Truly glorious.

As noted by Wikipedia:

From a large car park, a 124 m (407 ft) entry tunnel leads to an ornate elevator that ascends the final 124 m (407 ft) to the building. Its car is surfaced with polished brass, Venetian mirrors, and green leather. Construction of the entire project cost the lives of 12 workers.

We did need to go through the elevator found at the end of the tunnel that you see behind us – which, by the way, was freezing cold.

Despite the breathtaking view, it appeared that Hitler only visited this place around 14 times in all because he had a fear of heights. I hope you enjoy the rest of the photographs and the quotes I prepared here.

“The world? The world is not interested in us. Today, everything is possible, even the crematoria…” 
― Elie Wiesel, Night

“Nothing belongs to us any more; they have taken away our clothes, our shoes, even our hair; if we speak, they will not listen to us, and if they listen, they will not understand. They will even take away our name: and if we want to keep it, we ill have to find ourselves the strength to do so, to manage somehow so that behind the name something of us, of us as we were, still remains.” 
― Primo Levi, If This Is a Man / The Truce
“Fiction cannot recite the numbing numbers, but it can be that witness, that memory. A storyteller can attempt to tell the human tale, can make a galaxy out of the chaos, can point to the fact that some people survived even as most people died. And can remind us that the swallows still sing around the smokestacks.” 
― Jane Yolen

“A mist. A great mist. It covered the entire kingdom. And everyone in it – the good people and the not so good, the young people and the not-so-young, and even Briar Rose’s mother and father fell asleep. Everyone slept: lords and ladies, teacher and tummlers, dogs and doves, rabbits and rabbitzen and all kinds of citizens. So fast asleep they were, they were not able to wake up for a hundred years.” 
― Jane Yolen, Briar Rose
“I’m not talking about YOUR book now, but look at how many books have already been written about the Holocaust. What’s the point? People haven’t changed… Maybe they need a newer, bigger Holocaust.” 
― Art Spiegelman

We all lived with death, and I want you to know that one can fall in love with death. Whoever has loved death cannot love anything else any more. When the liberation came and they told me to leave, I didn’t want to go. I clung to the threshold like an ox being dragged to the slaughter. 
― Isaac Bashevis Singer, American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940’s Until Now

…. If the Germans win the war, what will the world know about us? They will erect huge buildings, highways, factories, soaring monuments. Our hands will be placed under every brick, and our backs will carry the steel rails and the slabs of concrete. They will kill off our families, our sick, our aged. They will murder our children.
And we shall be forgotten, drowned out by the voices of the poets, the jurists, the philosophers, the priests. They will produce their own beauty, virtue, and truth. They will produce religion.” 
― Tadeusz Borowski, This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen

I lost Herschel to the rain. I lost Josef to a crack in time. I lost the sound of laughter. I lost a pair of shoes, I’d taken them off to sleep, the shoes Herschel gave me, and when I woke they were gone, I walked barefoot for days and then I broke down and stole someone else’s. I lost the only woman I ever wanted to love. I lost years. I lost books. I lost the house where I was born. And I lost Isaac. So who is to say that somewhere along the way, without my knowing it, I didn’t also lose my mind?
― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

I tried to imagine their physical needs, the indignity of human needs grown so extreme they equal your longing for wife, child, sister, parent, friend. But truthfully I couldn’t even begin to imagine the trauma of their hearts, of being taken in the middle of their lives. Those with young children. Or those newly in love, wrenched from that state of grace. Or those who had lived invisibly, who were never know.
― Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

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