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From Switzerland, we drove through Germany, making a stop in Munich to walk the silent grounds of Dachau. After the Killing Fields in Cambodia, I had little interest in visiting a concentration camp, but Mike was anxious to see some WWII history. Although emotionally strained and left disillusioned with my existence, I am glad to have gone.

There’s not much to say about the Holocaust that hasn’t been said already and honestly, I don’t have much to say about it. Thinking about genocide leaves me feeling lost. All I manage to do is let the idea sit helplessly inside of me.

From Munich, we drove to Bochum before our departure in Amsterdam. It was a long drive. The stick seemed to be getting harder to shift and suddenly the overheat warning light came on. Putting the van in neutral and coasting through the cold air got it to turn off. I played that game with the light for an hour of so and then at a gas station, I poured half a bottle of coolant into the radiator. It didn’t help, but we made it to Bochum without any smoke.

The next day, in the rain, shifting gears was even more difficult and by evening, at a red light in Bochum, the clutch totally went kaput. With a massive heave, I somehow got it into gear one more time and managed to drive a few miles in first gear to find a parking spot. On Monday my not-so-trusty VW bus was loaded onto a flatbed and Mike and I hopped a high speed train to Amsterdam.

Considering how my experiences with the van began, I figure it is sort of appropriate that it didn’t make the whole trip. The thing ended up costing me way more then I’d hoped. I can’t say I’d recommend buying a VW bus for only six months of use, but the experience was one of my fondest and I have no regrets.