Background:
My maternal grandparents both survived the Holocaust as young children. My grandmother from Germany and my grandfather from Greece escaped with their parents to the U.S. In high school I visited my grandfather’s hometown, Katerini, Greece. Being able to literally trace my family history was an experience of a lifetime, and now I’ve had the opportunity to do so again. My grandmother, born in Leipzig, Germany, escaped and hid undercover in Bludenz, Austria during the war. Upon arriving in Europe for this semester abroad, I knew this is a journey I wanted to take. Fortunately, I know a great deal about my grandmother’s and great-grandparent’s lives in these cities, as my great-grandfather, Walter, kept a diary during the war, which my cousin translated and published as a book. A year or so ago, I thoroughly read this book, and even created a historical and imaginative project for a class on “writing places”. Now, in 2023, I embarked on this solo trip during travel week two. Below I recorded some highlights and thoughts from the journey.
Leipzig
On my first full day in Leipzig, I spent around three hours visiting the Stadtgeschichtliches museum which took me through Leipzig’s history. In the exhibit I found an extensive section on Leipzig’s Jewish history, adding another layer to my soul searching journey. The museum detailed the rich history of Jewish life in Leipzig, including a self-governing community of over 11,000 Jews and the many prominent businesses and industries created by them.
I later stopped by the outdoor Holocaust memorial which rests on the site of the now-destroyed Great Synagogue of Leipzig. Overwhelmed with emotions, I began to tear up, knowing I stood in the center of Jewish life in Leipzig, where so many Jews found belonging, home, and community. As blue sky appeared behind the gorgeous foliage I put a rock on the headstone and said my goodbye to the memorial.
I began thinking of my great grandparents, Hilda and Walter, and my grandma, Ann, all of whom lived in this city, called it home. They walked these streets, they lived in these buildings, they hid in the shadows. They saw their friends and family disappear, their dog murdered, their house burned down, their synagogue destroyed. I can’t even begin to imagine the emotional pain they felt when they became unwelcome strangers in their own home. I think of the 11,000 other people whose faces and names they knew. Where did they go? How many survived? How were they so strong to continue on in a time like this?
I feel a special connection to both Hilda and Walter, both of whom I never knew. As I wear her necklace and read his journal, I feel this spiritual link to this place, yet lost at the same time. Many traces of the past lost to time, the entire Jewish community summed up in the footprint of the old synagogue. Are there other young Jewish adults out there whose ancestry traces back here? These questions pile up in my brain.
Bludenz
I woke up in the morning to finally see the view of Bludenz from my window, and it was more beautiful and whimsical than I could’ve imagined. The panoramic mountainscape hugged the valley town, adorned with snow caps and scarves of vibrant fall trees. I explored the old town and city center, often gazing at the landscape in awe. How did it look back when Walter, Hilda, and Ann first arrived? How much smaller was the town? Had they stood where I am now? Did they feel the same “pinch me” exhilaration I felt? I know Walter did for sure, from reading his diary. Throughout this whole trip, but especially in Bludenz, I felt a spiritual connection to my great-grandparents.
My second day in Bludenz turned into a truly magical meaningful experience as I began my ascent of Mount Montikel on the Panoramic Trail. Upon reaching a look-out point I suddenly spotted out of the corner of my eye, a stump with a black and white thing on it, a cat! Me being me, of course began to call to it and tried to lure it over, knowing full well it was probably feral and would run off. To my surprise, the cat slowly but surely stretched down the stump and strutted over to me. Immediately the cat began to rub up on my legs like it had known me its whole life. This long-haired fluffy black and white cat purred at me, slow-blinking its yellow eyes. I continued petting the cat, shocked at the encounter. The cat had to have been either a stray or a domestic outdoor cat. I must have sat and petted the cat for at least 30 minutes. Eventually the cat even let me pick it up and carry it! The cat led me to a gorgeous lookout over Bludenz, then flopped on the grass. The cat then glided a few steps, then loafed and meowed for pets, then repeated those two actions many times. Eventually, the cat decided it was time to part and walked off the trail back into the woods. I don’t know if I believe in signs or messages from the beyond, but this experience truly felt like a warm hug from a familiar stranger.
In utter shock and joy of what just happened, I continued on the hike, gasping at every view: the changing fall leaves, variety of mushrooms and flowers, the panoramic views, and rocks scattered amongst it all. I photographed as many moments as I could. I almost couldn’t believe it. When I reached the summit, I beamed in pride at myself. With golden hour approaching, I began my descent.
Hohenems
Upon arrival at Hohenems, I ordered brunch at my first stop, the Frida Cafe. There, I had the best coffee of my trip and ordered bread with jam. I almost laughed with joy as I realized the bread was challah under a different name. I then realized just how deep the Jewish roots of this town were.
I then made my way to the Jewish Museum where I spent 3+ hours there exploring. I learned so much about Jewish history of that area (dating back to the middle ages!) I listened to historic Jewish choral music, which brought me to tears. After my visit, I explored the gift shop and shared with two museum employees why I was there. They pulled out a thick book and flipped to a page that showed the photos of my great-grandparents and grandma along with their story. Overwhelmed with emotions, I explained that I had only come because I knew of the historic Jewish population here, one that Walter mentioned in his diary. I had no clue my family was included in their archives. Afer much discussion, the museum gifted me a copy of the book and postcards. This almost felt like fate had brought me there.
Seeking Scandinavia 