Yesterday I received a SMS from a former student of mine stating that he was bored and wanted to hang out and chat. Meeting him in the center, I had in mind a coffee somewhere, but since is was pretty nice out, we decided to just walk around. Heading in no particular direction, we talked about some of the difficulties he was experiencing at school and what he wanted to do after graduation.

We headed up by his school, (where I no longer teach,) and continued up a large hill that sits above the town. He mentioned a “fake tree” that I just had to see, and we started down a street I had never been on. Before we got to the fake tree we saw this old house, or haus. To preface, this town used to have a sizable German population. However, after the war most ethnic Germans decided to return home, a transaction that was facilitated by the German government. Although German is still a popular 2nd language at my school (a Hungarian school,) and some of the students have Germanic features, the percentage of Germans in town is in the single digits. Anyway, this old haus was set back about 50 ft. from the street and appeared to be in a state of disrepair. Unlike the other surrounding Romanian style houses, though, this one looked visibly different, almost like a Bavarian chalet. Near the peak of the roof was the date 1935 in large black letters. It was an amazing find, and led me to wonder who used to inhabit that house and what had happened to them.

But, as I’ve mentioned, the ostensible purpose behind heading up this direction was the fake tree. Now this former student of mine was really intrigued by the fake tree, speculating about secret underground bunkers, et. al. Of course, I was a bit skeptical, but I figured it was worth a look. After winding up a little unpaved road he said, “ok, do you see it?” I looked around, and replied, “no, where is it?” We walked up a little further and then he asked again. This time I did see it, and let me tell you, I was impressed! This was one of those transmitter/receiver contraptions set up to resemble a tree so as to not be jarring to the natural landscape. We’ve probably all seen them before, and if we looked closely enough, did a quick ‘what the heck!’ This one, though, was quite the model of perfection. In fact, it was the very perfection of its design which ultimately belied its true nature. The trunk was a dark and folksy brown, and the branches a vibrant green.

Although this site was to conclude our tour, I saw a strange looking building just a bit further up the hill and decided that we should, in the spirit of adventure, push on. As I got closer, I noticed that this old slightly decrepit building had many Stars of David on in. Peering around the side, I saw an old cemetery. I soon realized that we had stumbled across town’s Jewish cemetery. Although my companion didn’t want to go inside, fearing some retribution, I decided to head on in. Greeted by a few nasty looking dogs on chains and a weary and skeptical old woman, I conveyed my interest and she grudgingly let us have a look.

It was quite a find. The newest graves showed death dates within the past few years; most of these individuals born around 1920. These graves had polished granite headstones and were well tended. However, further towards the back end of the cemetery, the graves became older. At about the center of the graveyard were the memorial plots, some of them dedicated to multiple individuals, many of them with the word Auschwitz on them. At the very back were the graves that chronicled lives that began and ended before the War. Viewing the names was fascinating. There were gold-, -bergs, -steins, etc. Many of the names were a mix of German, Jewish, and Hungarian. Only a few of the headstones bore Romanian sounding names. It was a both a sad and poignant discovery. For while some of the graves were tended, most had been long forgotten, with weeds and snarled branches covering the grounds around them. It was a testament to a reality which no longer exists, and the few who are tasked with remembering.

As we strolled back to the center, the topic of our conversation moved on to the latest exploits of the school’s goofy English teacher and future dreams of travel and money. We had left the past behind, but discovered something new in our journey.