From the middle right North to the bottom left South

Long time, my dear diary, It’s not that I just felt writing you, it’s more that the strong urge came up. Bad phone connection, no Wireless Lan on the train, lack of sleep, forty-nine Euro, my not so common name, various kinds of connections, fear and a police helicopter played roles in that. At least some kind of. But let’s start from the begin.

We were cooking fot that orchestra-and-choir I had fallen in love with just last year. This weekend somewhere in the middle of Germany. A bit in the top of the middle. Actually the top right. Just for two and a half days, one diner on Friday, breakfast and lunch on Saturday, I had left in the middle of cutting lettuce into pieces. I was so nervous and found all those bad parts, which would look not appropriate in lunch anymore. Already the porree had curled up, got all entangled after I had split and washed it to get it soil and sand free. My two kitchen mates must have figured that I was useless in a kitchen in this shape and almost had me thrown out, which I had probably subconsciously hoped for. I had never done that before – just leaving in the middle of preparing food – or at least salad. Writing these lines, I rememberd and have to admit, I had left before the finish of a cooking job, but that had been years ago, back in Ramstein (that is the place were the american drones killing people in Pakistan, Lybia, Iraq and countries on their opposite side of the planet are operated from, and where I didn’t understandd the reasoning, why that worked and not thru satelittes, and that plane had crashed killing all those people back somewhere in the 80s. Recently Rammstein, that German band which had derived their name from this incident adding one letter M to their name is more in the news, but for completely other reasons. Again but – or but again, that’s another story, diary, in case you wanna know, just read the German news and you will stumble about those).

And then that meeting of NEMO had come up, an association. Or a network. Or a network of associations. Or the other way round. Association of a network. Anyway, of migrant associations in Germany. On Tuesday. In the South. Actually in the left South. The bottom left South. Freiburg. I had lived there for 5 years and hadn’t visited the place for 27 years. I had thought we would be going together, but then that bed for Obiri should be coming, I had seen this connection between the North center and the South on my inner German map. And that Monday was not taken over by anything planned. And with my ticket for 49 Euro I can cross all Germany with regional trains. Only a bit of the top middle West was missing. But my sister thought a grill party was a nice idea with chicken and feta. That was that missing link: the west middle of the center in the South.

Already the evening before I was not entirely with myself anymore, after serving choir and orchestra I put food on my plate and was waiting for someody to tell me that there was already enough tomato salad on it. And I kept putting more, until I realised that it was the dish for me I was serving. After I checked for a train connection to my sisters place and saw train cancelled, train cancelled, train cancelled. About 5, possibly even more I had never seen that many trains being cancelled. Not in any country. And now in the country which is famous for trains being on time. One could make a joke about it, saying, „still the German trains are the one being on time, cause those which are not, are just being cancelled“. Maybe somebody can rephrase that and it sounds even funny. And till Sunday noon my nervousness was already affecting my body and brains. I was shaking, while time seemed to pass faster than usually, Luckily the two guys finally told me to stop immediately to start packing my stuff. I managed to get the chaos inside my tent into my backpack, and even to remember how to put that foldable tent together. The bus should leave at 12.09.

Checking again, now the bus should leave at 12.04, even with a delay of 4 minutes. I saw that bus, was running, but the bus started to move. I was running just to make a point, just to appeal to the bus drivers mercy to stop for me again. And he did. Sitting on a seat I recognzied one woman from the orchestra, she asked me if I was from Wams kitchen and where he is. And I told her something and we both figured that that was not the case and I told her that I didn’t know why he hadn’t been iin Wolfenhausen and I thought, in West-Germany, my actual home, the place were I was born, it never happened that I could convince a bus driver to stop just by running. I felt thankful, that some of the East-German mentality of solidarity still has survived.

In Fütterstädt my moble phone told me the train to Eisenach would go from platform 2, the yellow train schedule at the station said platform 3. I asked the woman who went to Göttingen, she said, she would believe the yellow schedule, just to double check, I looked around and found two people in white shirts which indicated to me they might have professional connections with German railway system which turned out to be the case. The man said, platform 3 is only for incoming trains, and platform 2 was the one to Eisenach. I started walking quickly and realised I didn’t see nor knew where that platform 2 was and might have better asked the two people with those connections as well about the whereabouts of platform 2. I looked nervously around to see if I could help myself out in this case and somewhere in the distance, way down were a lot of people waiting, which turned out to be platform 2, which was been apparently added after the station had been planned.

The train being overcrowded, I was standing a t the door. A group of some sports fans, I guess soccer fans were on the train. I had thought, the soccer season was finished. But anyway, they made an awful lot f nose. If that wasn’t enough, it was too hot on the train There is one window which looks like it can be opened, and I hoped, that somebody will do that, but nobody did. That fan goup finnaly leaves the train, and as the train started, I turned to the window of the door and showed them one finger and hoped that at least one of them had seen that. I sit down on a seat and am embarrassed about what I had just done, and hope nobody inside the train had seen it.

At some stop the train was stuck, cause the doors don’t open. People who wanted to get out here are not able to. I am wondering, why we tend to rely more often on techncal rather than social solutions.

I do understand that the doors open and close autmatically to prevent people from get off or on the train while it is running But again, that could be prevented by people being aware of the dangers, and possibly even more important more self-confidence, so that people don’t try to seek attention by just being stupid.

Have I lost two of my best friends cause I abused them? Or they felt abused by me? The didnt give a reason for rejection. And I recalled what she used to tell me: that the father of her husband was abusing her verbally, was she trying to tell me back then that I was doing the same? Not only verbally, but even possibly abusing their good will? I got so scared that I had lost two other friends. In the train I called that a value-down-the-drain-situation in my mind, whereas the expression was so utterly wrong: it was a lost-friends-situation. Me who is writing fund application in which I explain how trust is been built by low level measures, not capable of keeping trust? Was keeping trust something I had never learnt, or had I just unlearned it? What would measures for keeping trust be, I was wondering. As I was hammering the first lines of this diary into my laptop, the guy next to me was breathing heavly. I looked at him. Was he just reading these lines? Was he annoyed by that hammering sound? Or was he amazed by the words used? Would he be the one who would make my diary famous?

Then it was my breath which started to sound like some alien tool. It was getting too hot. again I remembered that I had told my friend in Freiburg that I might come already tonite. What was her name again? I looked at the first names on my contact list, trying to speed my breath a bit down. What was her name again? I looked up and saw there was a handle at the upper window. Should I try to open it? I finally remembered her first one, and now my mobile was hammered, which finally found her contact. Too hot again, getting dizzy, but to get up to reach this handle I would have to find another place for my laptop. I closed it, put the table up, put it on my lap and understood that would’nt solve my situation. The most simple idea of asking the heavy breathing guy even did not reach my mind. I should try to ring that hotel again. Being confused about what to do and even more challenging what first, I dropped the window opening idea and a note in an SMS to her saying that I might not be coming today due to the invitation of my sister.

Again the train to Zuffenhausen was overcrowded by people. My sister had invited me, would even pay me the fee for a room in one of those hotels. I was wondering: do I take Camp-O for 85 Euro a night or the railway one for 58? Camp-O, a bit on the edge of town were an acqaintance of mine, decan of the protestant church back home is staying at times. In Camp-O I might bump into a fimiliar face, the railway would be cheaper and closer to my sisters place.

But because of that bad connection, this time the phone connection, the woman of the hotel wasn’t able to understand my name, which is not the most common one, both first and ast name. Even my wireless LAN conection on the train didn’t work.

The train stopped. Zuffenhausen! I put my mobile hastily into the pocket of my pants, grabbed my backpack with one hand, my laptop with the other one and just managed to get out the train before that started moving again. Train to Renningen on platform 3. I could see platform 1 and 2, but where was that platform 3 again? I found a sign saying I had to go up a long staircase, me wondering about how much better an approach would be, were things like mobiles and train stations could be easily extended as needed. When I reached the top, I got dizzy again: I could see mjaor parts of Stuttgart, I felt that was the highest train platform I had ever been, and took a photo cause I couldn’t believe what hight that was.

Thus I rang that railway hotel up again. She understood my name, first name and family name, but then all rooms were already occupied. Thus I tried the other hotel, which still had a room for me, which made my decision a lot easier. And I was wondering, why the phone connection was so bad on the train. Possibly because of two many people trying to use it. Are these the downside of cheap travel? Overcrowded trains and phone connections not working?

I saw my nephew and nice on their terrace, said „Hello“, and figured they were playing darts. One minute less than an hour late, see my sister and her husband, and was wondering where to sit. I saw five chairs and salads, no chicken and no feta. One salad done by my nephew, with lemon juice, like my mother used to make cue cumber salad, which his mother – my sister - recalled.

I told them I have a magnetic darts and understood only then that theirs is pretty much a professional one. Then I understood that they had already eaten.