Travel has been, and always will be my unwavering passion, for this world is meant to be experienced in the first person. It's to be tasted and felt and smelled and heard, not experienced vicariously through books, magazines and travel documentaries.
Since childhood, I had always heard how green Ireland is. But, until I stood among Celtic crosses and monastic towers, looking across the Boin Valley, could I truly appreciate just how green the Emerald Isle really is.
And, when learning of the holocaust in school, I thought I could grasp the extent of its inhumanity, but not really. Not until I opened and walked through the iron gate at the work camp at Dachau, Germany, the gate that bears the words, "Arbeit Macht Frei" (Work Will Make You Free), could I understand the holocaust's horror. As the latch of that gate clicked shut behind me, I could feel the weight of the despair that must have been felt by the many people who were imprisoned and died in this camp.
In Amsterdam, Holland, I experienced the narrowness of the stairway that led to the not-so-secret hiding place of Ann Frank and her family. In Normandie, France I wondered, "just how long did it take those brave, American soldiers to crawl on their bellies across that wide expanse of sand known as Omaha Beach, as they attempted an escape from slaughter by German snipers on D-day?" On the bluff above Omaha Beach, there are 10,000 Americans buried in the Colville-sur-Mer cemetary. I have stood there solemnly and contemplated the lives of the young men in repose. France cradles these heroes in her fertile soil, entombed beneath their cold, white marble markers. She must care well for them because she owes them everything. They paid for her freedom with their guts and their blood.
In this country, you cannot appreciate the handiwork of the magnificent tool that is the Colorado River unless you stand, gripping the railing at an overlook and with your own eyes, take in the grandeur, the depth, the width and the color palette of the Grand Canyon.
The range and depth of emotion that one can experience by physically being at a place cannot be elicited by a glossy photo. An armchair traveler, I am not!
Since childhood, I had always heard how green Ireland is. But, until I stood among Celtic crosses and monastic towers, looking across the Boin Valley, could I truly appreciate just how green the Emerald Isle really is.
And, when learning of the holocaust in school, I thought I could grasp the extent of its inhumanity, but not really. Not until I opened and walked through the iron gate at the work camp at Dachau, Germany, the gate that bears the words, "Arbeit Macht Frei" (Work Will Make You Free), could I understand the holocaust's horror. As the latch of that gate clicked shut behind me, I could feel the weight of the despair that must have been felt by the many people who were imprisoned and died in this camp.
In Amsterdam, Holland, I experienced the narrowness of the stairway that led to the not-so-secret hiding place of Ann Frank and her family. In Normandie, France I wondered, "just how long did it take those brave, American soldiers to crawl on their bellies across that wide expanse of sand known as Omaha Beach, as they attempted an escape from slaughter by German snipers on D-day?" On the bluff above Omaha Beach, there are 10,000 Americans buried in the Colville-sur-Mer cemetary. I have stood there solemnly and contemplated the lives of the young men in repose. France cradles these heroes in her fertile soil, entombed beneath their cold, white marble markers. She must care well for them because she owes them everything. They paid for her freedom with their guts and their blood.
In this country, you cannot appreciate the handiwork of the magnificent tool that is the Colorado River unless you stand, gripping the railing at an overlook and with your own eyes, take in the grandeur, the depth, the width and the color palette of the Grand Canyon.
The range and depth of emotion that one can experience by physically being at a place cannot be elicited by a glossy photo. An armchair traveler, I am not!
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