It was my first break in a long time, four years to be exact. Somehow something always came up that made me decide not to go on vacation, but now the time had come, everything was booked, and I had four days of relaxation and uncoupling ahead of me, no cell phone, no laptop, just discovering the world and having fun. Just stroll through the streets and when you’ve had enough of strolling, stop for a coffee or a beer or look at the sea or at a tree. Laugh, think, dream, together, nothing more. Be unproductive and useless with all your effort. That’s what I set out to do and I succeeded. The important thing is that you are far enough away from the usual and everyday life. I was 1800 km away.

But there are things that you don’t leave behind because they are so deeply rooted that they stay. The view of animal suffering, the sensitivity to see it and not just leave it alone. As beautiful as the world is when the sun is shining, people are friendly and the sea is clear, the pigeons are there too, like at home, abandoned, domesticated animals whose existence we cause and yet make fun of. Wherever they are not discouraged, they are left to starve. They disturb. The cleanliness, the perfect cityscape, and our ignorance. That’s why they have to go, because they remind us of our mistakes, of our perverted interactions with other living beings. So, I sat in the park and fed them. Nobody said anything. Maybe also because I was in a country where you don’t see some things as closely as in my home country. Or they simply didn’t care. I sat surrounded by these wonderful, feathered creatures that we cause so much suffering to every day and felt good, but also bad. I fed a few, a few times, but then it would be over, and everything would be as before. I didn’t do anything better. There was that powerlessness and helplessness again that I always feel when I think of the thousands, even millions, of victims of our way of being human. The same thing happened to me at the fish market. One stand lined up next to the others offering fish for sale. Their dead eyes looked at me, which had only recently been swimming in the water, these creatures that are even stranger to us than many other animals because they move in a different element than we do. But they feel pain, make friends, and communicate. We don’t see or hear it. Nor their agony when – by whatever means – they are deprived of the water they need for life and let them slowly and painfully suffocate. It doesn’t matter that much. If it were not so, could we still eat their dead bodies with such pleasure? I looked at them, the ones who even found them appetizing and devoured them. And the dead eyes remained. A reminder to me. The others don’t care. So, I left this big cemetery and came to a market that mainly sold fruit and vegetables. I was happy because it was good not to see death and hunger, but this joy only lasted a short time because here too I discovered animal suffering. Canaries crammed into tiny cages and one next to it with a bird that was probably supposed to be a parrot. It was hard to tell since he barely had any feathers. Someone would buy them and take them home, leaving them locked in these cages that barely gave them room to spread their wings, let alone fly. Just as water is the element of life for fish, so is air for birds. Now they had air, but not the opportunity to use it. I tried to put that behind me too and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw baskets filled with snails. When I looked closer, I realized that they were still alive. They had been thrown onto each other alive. They were removed with a small shovel, packed in a bag, regardless of whether they were injured, and then cooked while fully conscious.

I had to realize that no matter how far away I went, people everywhere in the world are intent on torturing animals without giving it any particular thought. As different as the environment is, people are not. There is no time out from this, anywhere.