Yesterday we all traveled to LMU (Ludwig Maximillion
Universitat) to meet Franz J. Muller (mit umlaut) who was a member of the White
Rose during WWII. Having taken my freshmen
seminar in the RC about survivors of the Holocaust in which we had the
opportunity to meet two or three survivors, I knew to expect a bit of...how
shall I say...being star struck. Many
emotions and confusing thoughts arise when you meet someone you highly respect
and have read about indirectly for years.
Here was history, live and in person, and I couldn't think
of a thing to say or ask him. Many
things played into this but the language barrier was probably the most
frustrating for me. I wished so much
that I could formulate my thoughts into a cohesive sentence that would make
sense to him. I experienced this many
times before the program started as I traveled around Germany with my English-speaking
parents, but this was the first time that it really bothered me having only
taken Intensive I.
Once we had all gotten over our initial shyness, it is safe
to say that we all came away from that meeting refreshed and in awe about his
attitude. He conveyed the importance of
having a sense of humor during a time when few laughed and explained some of
the things he did to “quietly resist”.
For example, something I found absolutely ingenious and hilarious is
that instead of saluting and repeating the required Nazi salute, Heil Hitler,
they simply added a “t” to the end of heil—making the phrase into a whole new
meaning, “heilt” meaning to make well or heal.
Although it was necessary to say it fast to go undetected, he said it
was one of the best resistance techniques in order to stay “nearly” free.
Some interesting quotes from Franz:
“We are old men now, joking about the Nazis”
“It was a stupid part of human history-that’s it”
“They got beheaded [Hans and Sophie] and I got 5 years in
prison”
“menschlichkeit”
My sketch of Franz and a group photo:
After meeting with the one of the only surviving members of
the White Rose, something I will never forget, we all went our separate ways to
have a little free time before Theater.
I chose to join a group exploring the city around Marionplatz and visit
a few local shops. An experience I need
to share, however odd it is, takes place in an inconspicuous prepared foods
deli where we stopped to eat lunch. Once
we were all satisfied with full stomachs, it was, of course, time to use the
restroom before departing. Having been
in Germany for about two weeks now, I have learned to always take advantage of
a free bathroom when the opportunity arises.
Differing from the United States, Germany often charges you to use the
bathroom in public places and I have learned to always carry spare change
around. Anyway, for all the bathrooms I have been in throughout my lifetime, I
have never experienced a bathroom quite like this.
Imagine the scene: a door labeled with the obvious sign “WC”,
that leads into a cramped corridor revealing four other options to take. A door marked “private” in a handwritten
scrawl, a door marked Damen, one for Herren, and an unmarked, locked door. Which do you take? Well, I chose to go with
the safest option I could think of—Damen.
Expecting this to lead to a row of stalls, I was confused and surprised
to find another cramped corridor. This
time there was only one option, yet I was unsure what to do with the door I had
just left. There was a lock on it. Gee I
don’t want someone to walk in on me…maybe I should just lock it. But where does the next door lead? Should I leave it unlocked until I know I’m
in the right place? What is going
on? Where am I? Having finally made the decision to be safe
than sorry, I barred the way against unwanted company, and opened the next the
door only to be surprised once again by a cramped space containing a single
toilet with another lock on it.
We’ll never know what exactly the four doors were for or why
each one had a lock, but we eventually concluded we had just survived our first
vortex in Deutschland.
My day ended with a viewing of John Gabriel Borkman at the
Kammerspiele. I have learned to be patient at German theater, as I don’t
understand a lot of what is going on during dialogue, and to wait for the
moment when the big picture comes together after a few general ideas. This play in particular was very fascinating,
with a set containing a giant vertical wall with tunnels carved out into it for
the actors to walk in and around and fans blowing paper chaotically through the
tunnels and into the front rows of the audience every now and then. I’ve never seen anything quite like it and I
find that I am always amazed at the differences in German Theater from America.
An unsettling experience followed the play that left us
shaken and thoughtful. One of the main
actresses was pulled in a harness up into the air for a long period of time in
the final scene with huge theater lights lit behind her facing the
audience. When the lights went out and
she was finally lowered to the stage, they all began to walk to the center to
take their bows. However, she was only
able to take a few steps before she collapsed onto the floor. At first, the audience was taken aback and
began to think it was part of the performance as her character had been dying
in the final scene from a long illness.
Yet it soon became clear this was not acting as the actors rushed to her
aid and called for a doctor. “Jezt kein
Theater” still rings in my head as the audience realized it wasn’t okay. She
did wake up eventually and they led her backstage, but I was still shaken for
some time as we walked back from the theater.
Although fainting actresses haven’t been a common theme, I
am still continuously amazed at seeing live German theater and exploring Munich
and I am very thankful to have this opportunity.