Day 6 German Adventure

They say ignorance is bliss.  So if that is the case than is it better to never have experienced something thus never knowing what you're missing or is it better to have known the experience and deal with the aftereffects?  I suppose this applies to nearly anything in life but let's just address why I'm mentioning this right now at all.

 

We've been planning this meet up for 4 years, S and I.  Have talked endlessly about what we would do and see.  We had even discussed what would happen at the airport when I would come out and see her standing there.  Our guess was that we would run to each other in slow motion, fling ourselves in each others arms with a combination of laughter and tears.  I can confirm this happened precisely as we envisioned it with a lot of 'I can't believe I'm here' and 'I can't believe you're here' thrown into the mix.  Now it's over and there's a bizarre emptiness that wasn't there before although it feels like I've known her for far more than the measly 4 that we've been acquainted.  Is this emptiness worth it is what I'm wondering. Spending a few days with her then going home and not have a clue as to when we'll be together again is a special brand of torture. She lives in one place far, far away and I live in another and it's not like we're even within the same boarders or for that matter in the same continent even! 

 

Last night after a fantastic evening out at what has now become our fav bar, Kakadu, S and I came home and promptly broke down into tears. And we cried...a lot.  I tried to keep it together until I heard her sobbing in the bathroom at which point I sat down on my bed staring off into space and let the tears flow.  I wasn't sure how I would say bye to her.  Note that I'm using the word 'bye' not 'goodbye'.

This morning I woke up with slightly puffy eyes and avoided as much eye contact with her as possible, going through the motions of packing, taking a shower, dressing, doing my hair...all the while unable to swallow the lump that seemed to be lodged in my throat.  No matter how I tried to get rid of it, it stubbornly remained in place.  Dumb lump.

 

After closing the suitcase we still had enough time to grab lunch at a local pizzeria.  What goes fantastically great with thin crust?  Why a side of tears, of course!  I quipped that S resembled Stevie Wonder with her black shades which where hiding red teary equally puffy eyes.  But the silence in-between spoke volumes and neither one of us were forgetting the inevitable.  In fact, the avoiding of each others gazes kept on going for the instant we locked eyes?  It was on.  As I glanced up at the clock and not read 12:05pm, my heart sank and nausea had me taking large sips of my soda.  By 12:15pm we left, walking agonizingly slowly the 2 blocks back to her place to retrieve my bags.

 

Considering the nonstop waterworks since well before getting to the airport (as in yesterday), I joked (weakly) that she should just slow the car down at the drop off point, I would jump out of the speeding vehicle and she could simply toss my suitcases after me and keep it moving. She agreed (while her face crumpled into a fresh bought of tears) and added to the joke in general and even repeated it a few times when the heartache became too unbearable. I think to some extent the need for levity was important but the heaviness of our hearts outweighed our success. We in fact failed miserably.

 

I wanted to take pictures of her place to keep as a reminder but then realized that there would be little chance I would ever forget anyhow. Her home has been etched into my mind forever because for 5 days without a doubt it has been mine. That space has now become as familiar to me as my own home and ever so dear. Even as I type this I can picture the fan that she has dangled with earrings. The beautiful bejeweled boxes stacked on the coffee table, the hand decorated diyas on the window sill next to the shelving unit that contained so many spices of exotic origin that I barely recognized all of them. I will never walk by a Lush store again and not think of her bathroom which contains what seems like a mind boggling array of products that all smell heavenly and well...like her.

 

Hauling the suitcases down 6 flights of windy stairs was an adventure in itself however, S, the badass, did it without breaking a sweat.  I felt like I was ready to live perm on at about the 3rd floor.  Well actually going down those stairs are a damn snap considering all the going ups we did.   At 4 am in the morning, plodding up those winding steps was my least favorite thing to do but I was also quite proud of myself that by the time the last day arrived because I was doing it without feeling as if I would pass out from the exertion. 

 

Shoving the suitcase into her small adorable red hatchback we pulled out of the neighborhood and I took more mental snapshots. As she hit the Autobahn at about 200mph (well it damn near felt like it), I drank in the now familiar sights. We got to the airport much too fast and no, she didn't throw the suitcases out the car and keep going. But the departure from one another was brief. We hugged, cried and I shooed.  If I had to be honest, she basically ran away.  I watched her drive off and felt...helpless because I knew she would be crying all the way home.  I hated that idea.

 

So...was this trip worth the tears at the end?  Missing her?  The honest emptiness I now feel without her near me, my sistah from another mistah?  Yes. But my heart doesn't agree with me. It's sorta pissed at me right now. And it's exacting revenge by squeezing the hell out of itself. Sadistic organ that it is.

 

I'm at the terminal now, B44.  The flight has boarded even taken off. It's packed in here and hot too. I suppose that's what I expect anyhow and right at present the idea of having a layover in Turkey no longer thrills me. Maybe I just want to go home to my bed or because to be honest I'm not sure what to do once in Turkey. I was told I would get a free hotel room because I had such a long layover but the douchebag in Frankfurt inquiry desk said it wasn't their fault I had such a long layover and could have caught an earlier plane hence they had no obligation to provide me with a hotel room.  I'm what?  He said it was my "personal" reason as to why I chose this particular return flight. 

 

Wait, huh?  Of course it was my own personal reason.  Hell my whole journey regardless of work or no work, is personal. I am a person. It's personal.  I asked him why it mattered regardless because if I have business in Turkey (which I don't) and the extended timing works better than how does it matter?  The airlines policy clearly states anything over an 8 hour layover and the airlines provides accommodations. Period.  He snarked back with a arrogant shrug that he knew the policy and had just told me it.  I looked at him deadpan and said, "maybe you need to brush up on your reading comprehension" and left. The sorrow of being parted from my dear one didn't put me in a good state hence he was my victim and rightfully so.

 

But as he sneeringly suggested (which is what I had intended to do anyhow) once at the airport I'll ask my way to the reservations counter and figure crap out. My ultimate destination really is The Blue Mosque. If I can do 2 rakas of namaz there then allhamdulillah, I will consider this stop off well worth it. Of course I wouldn't mind squeezing some shopping and coffee into the mix but oh well...

 

Talking about shopping. I was severely disappointed in myself this morning as I packed. I hadn't realized that I barely bought anything.  My bank account is thrilled but for the most part my expenditures were in the food/drink arena. The few souvenirs I bought were hastily purchased.  Seems to me like the older I get the lazier I am about spending excessive time or money on shopping when all it really does anyhow is that I receive a temporary sense of gratification due to the action but at the end it becomes another piece of nonsense collecting dust in my closet.

 

Anyhow fast forward with me trying to make it through security where they body checked me to the point where I thought it was more appropriate that the lady there should buy me dinner at least after coping all those fields but oh well, her thrill. I got to the next level of security and the lady looked at me a little surprised. She asked why I had laid over through turkey instead of going straight to and from Germany and I laughed because by this time I had asked myself this very similar question many times and explained why. She smiled and declared that I was an "active and adventurous" soul which I took as stupid as a bag of rocks. She wouldn't have been too far off the mark.  But I knew she was being friendly.

 

I also so miscalculated how much wait time I had at Frankfurt Airport because I decided to settle down and have a yummy looking ice cream soda icey thingie concoction that was totally calling my name. It took a while for the order to be up and yes, at first taste I was in love...until...(Why are there so many until's in my damn stories?  Just hell...I really should write a book about my life...wait I already have, never mind).

 

Until, I decided to glance at the ticket to confirm gate. It was at this point when my eyes zero'ed in on the boarding time. 2:45.  I looked at my phone watch.  2:40.  Oh shiznit.

 

I sucked down that drink so fast that I managed to give myself one blazing ass brain freeze (by this point I had to question how that had happened when clearly I wasn't in possession of a brain by all my prior actions anyhow), paid the bill and hoofed it to the gate at top speeds. That didn't stop me from making a quick pit stop at the store to buy P a Germany futbol jersey (which he totally adored).  By the time I had made it to the gate I was super annoyed to see that folks were very much lounging around as if there wasn't a plane to catch. Mmmm...k. So I got my workout for the day I suppose.  I must say though, even the boarding of the plane, when it began, seemed lackadaisical.  People seemed to just meander up to the gate and get on with a shrug.  In Turkey there was a queue around the damn corner before the boarding was even announced and I admit that even in the USA people are pretty anxious. 

 

I so love the European mentality.

 

I don't even recall who I sat next to during that leg of the journey. All I remember with clarity as we taxi-ed into the skies was that I cried and sniffled and was gripped with an intense feeling of loneliness. I missed S and that was my clearest memory.

 

I ate a little, I know I didn't sleep. By the time service had been completed we were already starting to descend into Ataturk Airport.  I took a deep breath preparing myself for more adventures. 

 

 

Post-Post Germany Last Leg of Trip Adventure

Gotta love the title, right?  RIGHT?

 

And I'm up and at'em. Slept well, totally dreamless, and woke up semi-refreshed. Chatted with a friend for a bit where I wailed on about my horrible experience once arriving at the airport and he was quite sympathetic (through bursts of laughter but whatever) and came to grips with the fact that indeed this was all apart of the full experience.  So I shook off the funk and by the time I was conscious again, my spirits were high.  My ankle was throbbing slightly but not bad. I'm trying not to feel bad about spending that much on a hotel room which I occupied for approximately 12 hours but hell the alternative was no good so I'll get over that too and my more frugal side will shut up.
 

The airport is absolutely teaming with folks. A lot who had clearly spent the night if BO is any indication (total ew). Went to Starbucks after what seems ages and actually "ahh"-ed after taking that first familiar sip.  I have a 9.5 hour flight ahead of me, I think (Let me correct this now:  I assumed it was something like that.  I was wrong.  In fact it was an 11 hour flight back but I didn't discover this until I was on the plane and they announced the flight time.  I actually cringed.  Suffice it to say I'm editing this blog now days after my return which is why I'm making the clarification and also this can explain why there are a lot of weird past-tense, present-tensedness going on, sorry).  My knees are severely unhappy although it's presently battling against the ankle. I think the ankle will win but the knees will get its revenge eventually #thestruggleisreal #oldagesucks

 

 

I keep pondering about my blessings, even through this last ordeal. The fact is thanks to a solid education and a good job I can afford staying at a stupidly overpriced joint and have a bed all to myself (whereas 4 people could have easily fit).  The true other option made my skin crawl slightly but had I had to do it I would have without blinking an eye. Heck I almost had to anyhow, no matter how much mentally I balked at the idea. But at the end of the day, as others bedded down on hard unyielding floors for the night or stretched themselves out as comfortably as possible in rigid plastic seats, I was ensconced in room with a gigantic shower, pretty smelling stuff, and slippers which I totally took.  Hey, I was gonna get something other than sleep out of that damn place.

 

Yup, so blessings...anyhow moving along...

 

I was even feeling good enough to pick up a few souvenirs for home, packing them into my 'up to that point' light carry on (I planned it that way).  However, what I didn't plan on was to spend an arm and leg on the same stuff that I could have probably gotten for 1/4th the price if I had been able to get into the actual city...but I ain't bitter...no I'm not...I'm blessed...I swear it.  *mental shake* 

 

 

I'm observing humanity again!  Not scaring them away with a scowl.  This is a vast improvement from last night.  A few hours earlier and I was intimidating little old women in burka's and making children scurry away at the dark look upon my countenance.  But not anymore, hallelujah.  And y'all know how much I love to simply...look. I try not to be creepy about it, I can have shifty eyes when I want which comes in handy when someone catches you staring and you can act as if they were simply in your line of vision.  This is some serious skills.

 

So moving on to some things that I'm seeing:

There's a woman standing beside me right now. She's Wearing what I can only identify as a dog on her person. Okay, not a real dog but a furry vest. These things confuse me.  Why is this a fashion statement and what's the statement anyhow?  I think it's fake.  I should ask but she doesn't look too open to conversation since she's busy looking at the world through dark glasses.  Again, why?  We're inside the airport for heaven's sake and there is light to be had...no where, at least not where we are standing. 

 

I won't judge her, I promise.

A man just did the most cliché thing you could do at the airport:  check his watch and hurry (read that as run) away. Lol, like me yesterday.  I wanted to shout after him, "go you, go, get that airplane!"  I think that would have garnered a lot of attention which I'm not cool with so it's cool, I'll keep my thoughts to myself.

Another man and his son was in the check out line with me at the duty free and I was boggled at the stuff he purchased for his kid. As he paid his blond little boy went round and round his legs. The dad didn't even blink an eye. Impressive.  Idda smacked my kid and been like, "stop that!" but then again I'm not a parent and this may be a good thing.

Folks!  A segue has been sighted!   Damn I hate those things!!!  People ought to be required to have licenses for these menaces to society and insurance.  I've nearly been run down by them on the teaming streets of DC by tourists who seem to be hopped up on crack.  Ugh.  They are everywhere and personally I think they should be outlawed.

I think the German military is making a transit through the airport.  Hmm, I find it weirdly ironic that I saw none in Germany but in Turkey?  They're everywhere.  I wonder why also they're sort of loitering around so aimlessly.  Some poor plane is gonna be jammed backed with these guys and either I feel bad for the other passengers or a few women (and men) will be very, very happy for the eye candy. 

Gosh, the Thai airlines crew is walked by and 'oh my lanta' the women are seriously stunning all coiffed, backs straight, gliding, smiling even teeth...so jealous.  I can never pull that look off.  For the most part I look disheveled and a bit crazed, like I've gone through a wind tunnel 5 minutes after completing getting ready.  How these women maintain the cool and collected look is beyond me.  Admittedly, the males in the group (and there were a few) I didn't notice but the seriously, the women...just wow...

This airport is actually ginormous.  I have to say I'm impressed (now that I'm rested and less bitter).  There are also major plus points in being a blogger during times like these when there's nothing else to do. Just watch and write and this is the right place for that. Airports always are. I almost enjoy a long layover for precisely this reason. Ok, not like 17 hours bit a few are good with me.

I just noticed that I'm still wearing the bracelet I wore to the club. I miss S just looking at it. :/ okay before I become misty eyed and sad, moving right along...

One guy just zipped up his shorts right in front of me. Um...this doesn't seem right to me but maybe I'm a prude?  Is this something that people do out in public in Turkey?  Am I missing something?  Yish.  And there was absolutely no shame in his game.  Lucky me that I got to see it, right?  Meh.

They have these mini shopping carts everywhere. People are pushing them around as if they're at the grocery store. I'm not sure where they're getting them, just that they are everywhere (much like the segues). I anticipate the moment when two collide and things go flying.  Not that I would wish that on anyone!  Of course, not me! And not so that I have something to blog about.  Let me move a little to the left so that the lightening bolt doesn't strike me where I sit. -_-

Ohhhh there's another random person walking around with a face mask. This time a young woman. I honestly want to chase after her and ask her what is it that she's so scared of and should I also be nervous or maybe if she could let me have a mask because I am totally unprepared.  I will admit that slight panic sets in whenever I see these be-masked individuals.  And totally weirded out. 

Oh yea, German army totally in the house.

Have you ever heard a European say "hello"?  It's completely smit-worthy. It's lilting and carefree. It's like "elloooooo" but with a soft touch and a slight upwards movement at the end, very musical, lyrical even. I've tried to imitate it but it doesn't sound half as charming. But then again no one could ever accuse me of being charming so the hope that I would succeed from the beginning had been pretty low to start with ;)

Wow, all the random thoughts I'm having is exhausting. 

Okay, I am apparently supposed to head to my gate. This brings me a deep joy that I can not explain at all. This means I'm almost on the plane that will take me home! 

Snap, the line to board the airplane is hugeeeeee. Please God let no one piss me off. Not now. Please?  It's not asking for much. I am a good person.  I think I've had my fair share of problems. Someone else can have some for a bit. I would be totally okay with that. :) thanks.

Boarded, sitting, boots off and footies on. The long haired metal head next to me is slim and sweet and has a shy smile.  He's also like 7 feet tall (total exaggeration) and looks so uncomfy that I feel downright bad for him...almost bad because I'd rather him not be there so I could have the two seats to myself.  A girl can wish.  But I can tolerate him although he too is a leg shaker.

Hey!  Leg shaker turns out to be a decent guy named Sebastian who is traveling home as well but not to the USA, instead he travels home to South America. We chatted for a while and I feel awful for him because he's so damn tall that his legs are pretty much up to his chest.  Here is when being short is a total plus. Yay midget me.

Boy how wrong was I about the flight time?  11 hours. Oh god...

This kid is a genius.  Straight up genius.  I mean as in 'I'm super educated and graduated from everything early and hence a certified genius' genius.  He imparted some of the things he's done and I'm sorta jealous and feel stupid.  Note to self:  Don't judge someone for how they look or what they wear.  Not that I do anyhow but even I can make slight assumptions which does make me human but no less wrong.  He's a good kid.  I've tried to shrink myself to give him more room but that is of no help.  And I'm not all that shrink-able.


The food is pretty badass, in case anyone was wondering.  I found myself looking forward to meal time, how pathetic is that?

 

 

We're landing.  I've filled out the immigration paper work, had nothing to declare, packed all my stuff carefully trying to avoid taking any more room away from the kid as I can and breathe out a sigh of relief.  I am anxious to get on the ground so I can stretch out my legs, happy to be home, scared to turn on the data package and push notifications that will allow work to finally reach out and touch me but all those things with time.  I refuse to look at anything other than 'welcome home' texts from friends and family. 

 

Is there anything better than getting such messages after being out of touch for 11 hours?  And how horrible when you don't?  I'm smiling from ear to ear and feeling all warm and fuzzy : )

 

Anyhow, the adventure was fantastic. I've enjoyed taking people on my travels. I hope it wasn't too boring for anyone to read. Maybe a few rolled their eyes and thought, "whatever" but I like to think for the most part my posts have been entertaining and possibly a bit revealing?  I can only sum the whole trip as stunningly successful because it was all about being with S, who even as we speak is looking at tickets to come visit me next year during cherry blossom season :)

 

I will post another blog about thoughts, things I pondered, lessons learned.  That will come later.  Now, I'm headed home. 

Day 5 German Adventure

Right now I'm typing this blog from a small café close to S's tutoring job. It's called "Patel's Euro Central" (the café, not S's job). It's lovely here and I ordered a croissant and cappuccino while waiting for her.

 

This morning began with me 'out of sorts' which  meant I was quiet.  S seemed a little confused and I told her that I'm definitely not a morning person and often kept conversation and chatter to a minimum.  I think she was relieved because it appeared to her that I would be annoyed/angry/mad about something.  I couldn't even think on those lines.  The trip had been so glorious, she and M such amazing people that there was no space for negativity.  No indeed, I was just crabby because it was the AM. 

 

After a quick shower and pulling on the only footwear that I could deal with any longer, long over the knee flat black boots, we are headed off to this area so I could wait for her.  She mentioned that today we will do some shopping which I haven't really done any of yet other than purchasing some delicious chocolate from a beautiful shop new Wiesbaden a few days ago.  Maybe it's age or something but the idea of shopping makes me slightly ill.  Oh, I also bought a pair of flat knock-off Vanz (did I mention this before?) because of my ouch-y feet.  S thought they were hideous while I explained that they were quiet the rage back home.  I didn't think I would ever wear them again but funny enough since getting back, I've rocked them several times and nearly given my friends/acquaintances heart attacks.  That's precisely how out-of-character they are for me to wear. 

Okay, S is back and we're off to have some fun and QT alone.

More to come later.

Berger Street in Bornheim is where we ended up after finally taking the below ground metro.  Oh it's lovely here.  Imagine Georgetown but not nearly as douchy.  We stopped to have yummolicious food at a busy but cute mostly vegan friendly place which allowed dogs.  The tables were close together but one didn't mind that in the least.  The food took forever to get to us but was nonetheless delicious and we had the best chat, not that we hadn't been doing this all along.

 

Did I mention that in Europe, or at least Germany, the first instinct isn't for servers to pour you a glass of water?  I was confused by this the first time it happened, wondering where the aqua was but now, so many days into my trip I knew to just order some.  It's funny how quickly one adapts if they really, truly want to.

 

So on my ongoing trials and tribulations which proves to me every single time that I should, in fact, not leave the USA because I'm the biggest ignoramus ever, here's a little antidote:

 

At the end of the meal, I went in search for the bathroom.  It was, of course, downstairs (this also seems to be a thing here.  Bathrooms are always located subterranean) and I walked into the posh stall, closed the door and heard the very loud and resounding click of the lock falling into place.  Wistfully I thought to myself as I was doing my business, that it would be sort of inconvenient if I were to get locked in because no one would be able to hear me.  That's how far into the cavers of the restaurant the facility was.  Chuckling to myself at my fanciful thought, I go to unlock the door and...oh hell...

 

Yea, I had totally locked myself in.  With rising panic I looked down and saw that the clearance between the floor and the bottom of the door was all of 6 inches (I am not small enough to slide through that) and above was the same.  I was doomed.  I imagined myself there, waiting...waiting...waiting...dying...not for one instant remembering that a.) I had a my phone with me (do they dial 911 there too?) and b.) S would eventually come looking for me to see if I had drowned myself or at least to shove more ibuprofen down my gullet.  Either way I would have been okay but at that second I was left in a quandary. 

 

It took some muscle to get that damn door unlocked and the sense of relief made me giggle with giddy relief.  Have you ever done that?  It's pretty satisfying and when I returned to the table, I told S what had happened.  She pointed out to me that me and the bathrooms seem to have a grudge match going of sorts.  I have to agree.

 

Which leads me to another story that I may (or may have not) shared earlier in regards to a similar incident in a different restaurant when we were wandering around Wiesbaden.  It was my real first meal in Germany, the day after arriving and we had chosen this adorable spot where we sat outside in the partial sun (it was quite a cold day actually but we were forcing good weather).  After finishing up the turkey schnitzel which was supper yum, and per usual I excused myself to use the facility.   I confess I have no faith in my bladder at all.  As I grow older and more decrepit, it becomes smaller and smaller to the point where it could be that during one hour at any place I may have to make a stop at least 3 times.  It's a pain and I should see a doctor but a few friends told me it's because I constantly am drinking water.  But that's neither here nor there...this particular spots facilities were located on the second floor (damn stairs) and once I was there, two doors stood in front of me.  One said "H" and the other "D". 

 

Again, I stood staring having no clue what D meant.  I ran through the list of possibilities in my head and came up with nothing.  My limited German helped not at all although some part of my cranium was shouting that "H" probably meant Heir.  That made sense, right?  But who the hell ever said I ever followed what 'sense' dictated?  Not I.

 

And without thought I pushed into the door with the prominent "H".  Yea, wrong choice.  And thank God there were no one there because they would have gotten a bigggggggg surprise.  I yelped, retreated and zipped into the one labeled "D".  When I got back to S, I had to sigh in exasperation and tell her that I shouldn't be allowed to leave my country because I was a menace to society otherwise. 

 

*SMH*

 

Leaving the restaurant the rest of the afternoon went by in a slow meander moving in and out of shops.  I got something for P, and since from day 1 I had been determined to buy S flowers, I was able to snag some of those too.  We stopped at an all vegan pastry shop, sit outside, sip coffee and partake in lovely delicacies.  I didn't eat a lot of it simply because although I love absolutely anything chocolate-y my sweet tooth isn't as gigantic as my eyes.

 

We left out of there and headed for the local bus stop.  The last of the various modes of transport to be crossed off my list.  S had class so instead of going home with me, she gave me precise directions, and hopped off 4-5 stops before me.  I managed to find my way back to her apartment without incident, texting her the whole way so she wasn't worried that I was lost somewhere in the city, was able to take a shower and change before M came home.  We chatted easily for a bit and then we were off to pick S up.

 

M, the Sweetie Pie, dropped us off for our last night at Kakadu's where we spent most of the evening talking to an Aussie businessman who was a PM at some company where he didn't know how to deal with clients/colleagues and was taking advice from me.  For some time he assumed it was because I was in a similar line that I was so knowledgeable but S was also fully contributing to the convo and she definitely is not in the same profession.  I told this guy, whose name I can't remember to save my life, that most of what we were saying was nothing but common sense.  How to treat others in business was how one would treat friends/family, not so intimately but at least with the same understanding and courtesy. 

 

Why he was so blown-away by all that I told him is still confounding to me, since this guy was 52 and should have learned but hey, I don't judge, I just advise.  By the time he left, we were his best friends and admittedly both S and I were a bit concerned as to how he would make it home because he was so not steady on his feet, if you know what I mean.

 

Here's where I insert another story and yes, it has to do with the bathroom again, so shut it:

 

I went to the bathroom and as I walked in there a young lady, Asian, was there too and she moved aside so I could slip into one of the stalls.  As soon as my door was closed, I heard suspicious sniffling which then blew into big gusting sobs.  My eyes went large and I, won't lie, rushed through peeing so I could give her some privacy.  My bladder wasn't happy with me or may be it was.  I came out of the stall and she moved into the second one, closing the door even while she continued to cry although softer.  I washed my hands, about to leave when I paused.

 

I thought to myself, if I was in her shoes what would I have wanted? 

 

Doing a mental "F-it" and with my heart hurting for her, I knocked gently on the door.  She opened it a crack, looking at me with curiosity and red eyes.  I motioned for her to come forward, she did so with a lot of hesitancy and I wrapped my arms around her.  She was stiff at first, I believe shocked and then...she broke down, sobbing into my shoulders, clutching me close.  I stood and stroked her hair, murmuring that things would be okay and simply waited.  Eventually her friend came in, I transferred the sobbing woman in my arms to her and left. 

 

Later, when I saw her again, she gave me a soft smile and left.  I don't know if I did her any good, or whether her instinct was to call the police on me but at least I felt good about it.   

 

Once again, this brought to mind precisely how similar "we" truly are and when I say "we" I mean humanity in general, the whole reasoning behind this blog when I first started to write out my thoughts: to highlight that I am not so different as yourself.

 

Have I seen that same scene before back home, the one of the girl weeping in the bathroom?  God yes, and I can't even count on how many occasions.  Had I ever been that girl sobbing heartbrokenly in the bathroom?  Yup, sure have.  Has a friend or a stranger comforted me?  Absolutely. 

 

Truth here is this, Folks:  We are so much more alike than we are dissimilar.  You can stare at someone's eye color, hair color, skin color, how someone speaks, walks, talks, and those things can all point to the differences but the similarities are found from deep within.  Those are the instincts, the emotions, the reactions, the actions.  Those are the things that actually tie us together.  The needs, the wants, the loves, the hates, the disparity and joy...these are innate and within every molecule of our being.  The fact that anywhere in the world, the sight of an old couple walking down the street hand-in-hand will most certainly bring a smile to a persons face or a child's giggle makes others giggle.  The tears of someone will bring concern or the death can bring a moment of silence.

 

Cancer is horrible wherever you are, a birth possibly a joy, depending on ones life circumstances.  Purchasing a new home, probably high on the list of positives, losing a beloved something, low.  The first lick of an ice cream on a summers day or the feeling that's invoked when you pull on a pair of fuzzy socks on a cold winter night.  Listening to rain on the roof, watching a sunset, diving into a pool, leaving work after a long, long day. 

 

You see what I'm trying to say? 

 

Deny it all you want.  Go on think that you're different, but the truth is...you're not.  Neither am I.  We are all special 'snowflakes' to the extent of our DNA but after that...it's a wrap folks.  We're all the bloody same and you know what I say to that?  YAY!

 

Day 4 German Adventure

Let the next adventure begin!

 

This part is a continuation from what happened on day 3 hence I'll begin with...

 

...Last night we went to a European club.  It was of course my first experience and in ways for S also because that's just not her scene nor music.  But being the amazing person she is/was, she wanted me to at least know what it was like to have the experience.  I frankly think her ulterior motive is to see me blog about it so she can have something to read.   Just sayin'.  So we primped and prepared ourselves, wondering what the scene would look like.  I didn't have high hopes since the place wasn't an established club but rather a restaurant that was located on the top floor of a building that turns into a club at night on and the building itself is a shopping mall.  What sort of club is that anyhow?  I was joking with my friend that there would probably would be no one there but she and I. 

I was so, so wrong. -_-

The mass of humanity that attended boggled the mind. The space wasn't small but with the crush of bodies it was hard to breathe even.

The music, which I expected to be nonstop techno/trance ended up being very different. The DJ spun the hell out of his set and before the crowd really started to pour in we were having a great time. But eventually it became too claustrophobic and I looked at S and said (trying hard to withhold the desperation in my voice), "hey we can leave whenever you like!"  I was so hoping she would say lets get the hell out of here but she, being the person she is, responded with an easy shrug of her shoulders, "no, it's fine."  Damn her sweetness. So we stayed there for another hour being jostled and juggled without any effort on our parts. Hey, I've never been about wasting my own energy anyhow, total waste of time.

 

When we escaped outside onto the terrace for a respite from the heat finally I just told her that we should leave giving up completely on trying to seem as if I wanted to be there.  I'm just not into the overcrowded bodies-pressed-into-each-other sort of scene anyhow.  She eagerly agreed (once again, she had been repressing her feelings about the spot only to please me which was ridiculous but sweet) and we couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough.

 

As I mentioned, the restaurant was located on the top floor of a mall.  Who would have thought that actually exiting the damn place would have been so damn arduous?  The main level, where we had caught the elevator was locked down, the only accessible levels being either the club (were we supposed to parachute down to the street or what?) or garage.   To us the garage option didn't seem any better and was sure there was something that would be a little more obvious.  The idea that there were some 500 people wandering around that building trying to get out was a slight bit amusing though.  We spent at least a half hour wandering around searching which included traipsing through some shady looking stairwells and then a creepy looking abandoned garage (it looked pretty damn abandoned). S said at one point, "this is the type of place where rapists wait." 

 

Erm...really?!?  Cause that's not what I had already thought of!!

Eventually we made it out (this included a lot more climbing up and down those freaky quiet stairwells and then waiting till we saw life in the form of drunk partiers, following them out) and after I almost flung myself in front of a taxi to make it stop because even that area had no stand and we were getting a bit desperate so I didn't care if the taxi was occupied or not, we scrambled in and went off the a karaoke bar. It was pretty late and by the time we got there it wasn't all that packed but good enough.

I sang a song and was applauded loudly but that probably was because the folks before me sucked so bad that S and I thought our ears had started to bleed. No, really.  No joke.  Bleeding.  Down our necks to soak into our shirts.  It was awful, the singing although the bleeding would have been also, and I can't stress this enough.  Oh god I've never heard quality caterwauling like that in my life. By the time I was up, I must have sounded like an angel. Fact is I was okay, I can carry a tune and the guys who sat immediately to the right of me where clearly surprised, hooting and encouraging me along.  In fact I heard one say, 'she's damn good'.  I wanted to respond, 'you bet' but decided to be that cheeky would be far too encouraging.  I wanted to remain mysterious :P

 

Let me backtrack for a second also.  Remember the club?  The roof top thing?  While we were there S asked me to tell her what sort of differences that I saw between that particular one and those I've been to in the good ol' US of A.  The most interesting was that the girls in Germany dressed far more casual and so less hooch.  I have to say that was refreshing because anyone who has gone clubbing in the States know that the less clothes you wear, the better. And the European women?  Gorgeous. Breathtaking!  I couldn't help but gawk and yes the men were handsome but I am secure enough in admitting that I watched the women more than the men. But it seems like no matter the landmass, the whites just can't dance.  Such a pity. At one point I had to turn away from observing one individual who was twisting and turning and be-bopping to some rhythm in his head rather than what was actually playing.  I was flummoxed for several minutes, deciding that it was best to leave that dude alone before I was witness to an accident where he crushed someone.

We got home at 4 and both of us crashed hard.

Yesterday, M and S took me to an English pub where they served a great brunch after which we went on one of those double decker hop-on-hop-off tour buses.  I was thanking them profusely for even considering going with me (I would have gone alone) but they both confessed that they had wanted to take one forever but had been too embarrassed seeing as how they are locals after all.  I toats understood since I suffer the same issues in DC. I wanna go so badly on one of those kitschy tours but my friends make endless fun :/

 

Haters.

Frankfurt is a beautiful city and parts are precisely what you expect to see such as quaint shops and ginger bread architecture while other parts are not. It's a very advanced city juxtaposed with the feel you want as a tourist. Since my foot was still bothering me we kept walking to a minimum which bummed me out something fierce. However, we did get off at one spot and visited a bridge called appropriately enough "Padlock's Bridge" where people, couples specifically speaking, attach etched locks to it and throw the keys into the Main river below.

 

Take a look:

 

 

 

It's so that the couples love always remains locked or something like that. What a lovely thought, no? Do we even have such sentiment like this in the USA?  I was slightly nostalgic at this point and was glad that S was with me.  She and M also regaled me with stories and historic facts as we trod along but eventually my foot demanded that we go home and I had to hear its call.

 

I'll add a few more pictures I found interesting although I'm not even going to go through the trouble of explaining each and every single one.  I'm sure I do not have to remind anyone who is a regular reader that at the heart of it all, I'm a real lazy SOB.

 

Enjoy : )

 

 

 

Thus far I have taken the following modes of transport:  car (Autobahn), metro, tram, walking, tour bus...all that's left is the local bus and underground,  I believe both will happen today. :) yay!  I'm practically a local without any understanding or grasp on the language. Ok maybe not a local at all since most of the time I wander around with my mouth hanging open looking overtly curious and not at all bored.

One thing about me when I visit other countries...I like to help the local economy, particularly local vendors/shops. I don't remember when I've ever made a big purchase for myself from a well known shop on my travels, often opting to help out those folks who set up stalls and sell unique wears. I'm glad to say that I was able to do the same here as well. We ran into a woman very much like that with a smallish table set displaying the most lovely jewelry that she was hand making (while sitting there) and who, incidentally, spoke very good English, asked me to visit her website and from her I purchased a bracelet which she lovingly named "Nessie" because on the cuff of it is an etching of the Loch Ness monster, just the head.  It's not obvious but it's there and I will always treasure it.   She looked very gruff, the vendor, and windblown (it was particularly cold yesterday) but she was sweet and kind. Another lesson about not judging a book by its cover.

But honestly, everyone here have been nice. And whereas the popular sentiment may be that the German accent is grating and harsh?  I find it quite lyrical and beautiful. I've been trying to pronounce everything with the correct accent and inflection. S, being a German tutor, says I actually manage to pull off certain words quite well while other foreigners can't. I would be proud of myself but I'm not only because to me one should always try to make the effort. It only makes sense. Then again, I'm also a child of immigrants and speak two other languages fairly fluently so maybe that's why twisting my tongue to accommodate other languages isn't that difficult for me whereas for those who speak only one language aren't adept to it?  This is my theory.

Anyhow, so after the whole touristy thing yesterday, we went back home and I cooked a Bangladeshi dinner for my wonderful host and hostess.  The grocery stop over was fun as the 3 of us went shopping and I couldn't deny that the German grocery store was no different than any you would find in America.  Even this small side trip was a revelation as to how alike our worlds truly are. 

 

The meal in itself was a successes.  S has seen, via Facebook my cooking skills and had always been curious so I figured after all that she and M had done for me, I could at least prepare them a sample.  Admittedly, I loved watching them feast and was gratified. With P, who speed eats through any given meal and is done 4 seconds flat, I have to wonder if he even tastes what I take 3 hours to make.  But M and S savored each morsel.  As a cook it was worth every second of the actual action. And besides, M was our personal DJ as he played some awesome 80s tunes and kept me dancing around the kitchen.

The evening was relaxing and we all called it an early night, and when I say "early" I mean about midnight. My foot was very thankful for this consideration on their parts from the break of activity.  The only thing I can complain about has been S chasing me around her living room and bathroom with vitamins and practically shoving them down my throat along with ibuprofen. 

 Jeez, how I miss her : (

By the time she was cozied in her bed, as was I snuggled down into the lovely futon that she had bought just for me which was stupid comfortable, I checked the time and saw that it was about 7pm at home. It's weird to think that in the states my friends/family are very active while I'm falling asleep. The time difference slightly screws with my mind but overall I haven't suffered any jet lag, knock on wood.  Not that I've noticed. I'm hoping for the same upon my return but fate is never so kind.

 

Lets see what tomorrow brings.

 

Day 2 German Adventure

So technically it's day 3 but that's ok. I'm using my friends computer which means there are slight differences in the keyboard which also means that I won't be editing the crap out of this because I'm lazy. Work with me please.

We've been having a blast.  I absolutely love being with S and when I'm with her it's as if I've always been here, together.  Germany to some degree has become familiar and to another degree a total different world.  It's fascinating to walk the streets and hear so many words that I cannot understand.  I feel as if everyone is sharing in a secret I have no access to but that's alright.  Equally bizarre is how many surprised looks my ho hum every day boring accent also receives.  It's as if people are fascinated with my twang while I am enamored of theirs.

Anyhow, the adventures continue.  Two nights ago we were in a pub relaxing and a very, very Italian man sits with us and starts to strike up a conversation.  His English is atrocious, his German not so great, his Italian probably excellent although that wasn't working to my benefit since I don't know Italian.  oh well...he was amusing and from what i could garner he was young and in Germany for holiday.  at one point though, he was trying to reference something about music and said "you know 50 cents, 40 cents, whatever..." and that's when the laughter came on to the point where I was unable to breathe and tears were flowing out of my eyes.  here was this Italian kid who was referencing a fairly well known American artist yet couldn't quite get it right but lord knew the inference in his words were clear (Italian = sexually suggestive).  After this I was no good and the evening just took a bizarre turn that even S couldn't believe.  By the time we made it home it was closing in on 2am and we were exhausted enough that bed beckoned and we answered the call promptly.

For all the adventures, the one problem that has assailed me is that my left foot has left me slightly invalid.  I'm not sure what I did to it but when I take a step it hurts.  Maybe my choice in footwear has been foolish, maybe I've overdone it somehow, hell maybe I've pissed off the fates but I've been trying to avoid too much movement at this point which means sightseeing is not in the immediate cards.  I won't lie, I'm a wee bit concerned for my journey home if my foot doesn't heal somewhat by then.

S suggests I simply hang around here till it goes back to normal or her other brilliant idea?  Move in with her.  Yup, that's her idea and as I suspected she's still working on convincing me.  I'm thinking no but shhhh, don't tell her that (S, stop reading and go entertain me).

With S has also come M, her amazing sweet boyfriend who is soft spoken, kind, generous and an all around good guy.  he reminds me very much of P.  Both have easy going natures and laid back attitudes.  For the most part he has given S and I space to be girls, doesn't even get annoyed when we are yacking on about clothes or makeup or whatever, and patiently waits for us as we take up space in the bathroom and every other corner of their lovely apartment.  He has been nothing if not the most best of hosts and I don't know how to repay his kindness for giving up his girlfriend to me for so long. 

I've been trying to sit here and remember what we did this particular night.  I will not lie, the memories have begun to merge.  I distinctly recall the smells, and how familiar her streets became.  How we never stopped chattering or taking daily selfies.  She patiently explained everything to me without becoming annoyed and at some point, even the languages around me started to become familiar.  No I didn't understand them but I became more comfortable with the vast arrays that floated about me.

I was curious about all the Kabab places and she explained that at least 30% of the population there was from Turkey.  That's quite a huge number. And although I had wanted to try some of the places, after the whole airport kabab fiasco, I wasn't all that curious.  Meh.

Oh another memory, there are apparently these chocolate hallow eggs called "Kinder Uberraschung" which contain a toy or collectable of some sort.  They are basically found during Easter and S told me how much as a child she had loved getting them.  I informed her that we really didn't have anything of the sort in the USA, not that I remembered and so she and M decided to surprise me with a 'gift' (as if they hadn't done that enough) and I got my very own with the cutest little dolphin toy which I named "Ralphie".  Don't know why but it was the first thing that popped into my head. 

There was also a slight showdown in S's bathroom where I threatened her to actually do something with her hair other than throwing it up into a bun or twist.  She screamed, yelled, pitched a fit, then stood a-gapping at her reflection later after I had flat ironed it.  I felt smug when she ordered her own and laughed outright when she told me she already had one, a small travel size thing that is meant only for bangs.  I stared at her, then it, then her again and simply rolled my eyes.  She got the message loud and clear.  I knew not to trust her on these sorts of things including the distance it took to walk from point A to point B.  That too I knew just to tack on a few more kilometers.  She had the nerves to be outraged when I trusted M regarding distance but not her.  Yea, go figure.

 

Day 3 German Adventure

For the most part I blogged during those moments when S wasn't with me which meant that I didn't have a chance to jot my thoughts down since she was mostly always with me.  I am not complaining in the least.  But that also means that now, as I try to reconstruct the trip, it's become one blurry mess.  So I'm going to try to do my best in remembering the details which do escape me. Call it old age if you wish but here I go:

This day I woke up, looked at S and said I was in the mood for Indian Food.  So she and I headed down to the main train station, where we found ourselves nearly every day since that seems to be the hub of all things to-do, and went to a place Called Saravanaa Bhavan.  We had mini idli's, I went with the Chili Uttapam and she went with the Masala Dosa.  I've filtched a few pics from the internet to show you exactly what they are but these are not the ones I took:



Mini Idli's

Masala Dosa

Chili Uttapam

After stuffing ourselves, we were going to go wander around but my foot was not cooperating.  At one point I was limping so badly that S offered to carry me.  Sweet of her but I had no interest in breaking her blasted back.  So instead we (really I) hobbled to the closest shoe store where I invested a whole 10 Euros in a pair of flat knock-off Vans.  They didn't work at all.  It was still as painful to get home but once there she cut me fruit (yes, sat there and force fed me) and then ran after me with vitamins, ibuprofen and Tiger Balm.  This ended up being a daily thing with her chasing after me and myself limping away.  She's quick and I never escaped.

That night, after resting, we dolled up and headed back into town.  I had decided that the only pair of shoes that didn't kill me was my knee length black boots that I had impulse purchased a few weeks back.  These are flat and did the trick.  We ended up grabbing dinner at the train station and the food wasn't bad although I went with chicken curry and she with...something she didn't like.  The weirdest thing about my choice?  One of the add-on's was avocado.  Doesn't sound too weird but mixed with Indian food, it was just wrong.  The fruit did nothing at all for the taste and in fact sort of blanded it down.  Neither of us walked away feeling very satisfied but hey, we were off to have fun so it didn't matter.

First stop:  S's favorite bar called "Kakadu".  It's a small little place that's very up-scale and chic but not overdone.  The clientele basically comes in for the generous proportion of food and drinks.  The proprietor is a Punjabi man who barely speaks Hindi, doesn't understand English well but rambles on in German.  He was very, VERY kind with us and by the end of the evening, we were not feeling much pain at all ;)

At one point though we thought we would head to another place, O'Reilly's, an Irish Pub where there was Karaoke.  Now I've already been here once while waiting for S to finish up work.  The bartender was happy to see me back, probably because of the generous tip I left and the atmosphere was ridiculously upbeat.  It was Friday night and the folks were rowdy.  Shortly after arriving I had to go to the ladies room and as most fabulous stories go, I met two ladies who were ex-pats with the UN.  They were drunk.  And that's probably an understatement and thought I was one of them.  Why they would assume such a thing still mystifies me but I didn't mind since they were fun. 

 

Back upstairs, they spotted me and introduced me to the rest, about 10 or so folks and we all sang together.  S insisted that I sing "Killing Me Softly" my go-to and I think I did a pretty good job.  Actually, compared to the others?  I slammed dunked that and no ears bled.  Phew.

 

We met a lot of interesting folks that night, proving that with enough drinks and merriment, it honestly didn't matter where you came from, connections could be made.  We got home at about 3:30am-ish and promptly collapsed into bed.  I had to force S to go and rest herself and as soon as she disappeared, I can't remember even pulling the covers up. 

 

I made no grand observations that day, not more than what I have mentioned.  It was just a simply nice, calm day where I didn't think of work, responsibilities more than what I would wear or eat and where we would go and that last decision I allowed S to take over for me.  She did so happily and pampered me as she had been doing and as she would continue to do. 

 

I've taken many vacations and other than the ones where I go home (as in to the Mother Land) to visit family, they are for the most part stressful to some extent or another.  Granted those to the Islands are pretty relaxed but there's a lot one has to do for themselves even there.  This trip was absolutely different than all of those put together. 

 

Now I'm simply thinking about when I can return.

Post-Germany: Headed Home and Turkey Mis-Adventure

Let me start off by saying there will be quite a few blogs that I haven't posted yet, so they will be filled in once home. But this needs to be posted now.

Enjoy :)

So things have not worked out as I intended in Turkey. After getting off the airplane I was told to go to the transfer desk where they would help me out with the hotel. Once there this very pretty young woman in a hijab informed me quite coldly that I could have picked a flight tomorrow morning from Germany to Turkey and in that case they would have provided me with a hotel. Erm...ok. But since I didn't I wasn't going to get one. I told her that there would have been no need in that case anyhow.

She snapped at me that that wasn't Turkish airlines fault and that I should have planned better. I stared at her for several seconds flabbergasted and trying to calm myself down but that didn't work AT ALL. 

My temperature rose quickly and I told her, much as I told the gentleman in Frankfurt that on the webpage it was pretty clear that any transfers over 8 hours would mean a hotel being provided and that no where was it written that one had to plan their trip better. And then I told her that her advice to me, although possibly sound, wasn't appreciated nor relevant since I wasn't planning my trip around Turkish airlines expectations anyhow. 

She told me she couldn't help and I wanted to say "f-U" but decided not to although when she just about dismissed me as if she was done, I leaned in with both hands on the desk and said to her in clear precise words "where do I go to get a visa and then a hotel. YOU can tell me that much" at which point she quickly gave me directions and off I went but not before I heard her mutter something like "rude american". Shoulda shanked her. Resolved, i headed to the visa counter to get one and then out to purchase my own hotel. 

Well that too didn't work out.  My passport expires on 3 months. To enter Turkey, one has to have at least a 5 month cushion on validation.b The nicer man there said he could "make it happen" if I paid extra. What was extra?  140 bucks. For a 17 hour layover plus the expense of transportation and hotel?  No thanks. 

So now I'm stuck in the airport for 17 hours. 17 very long and painful hours. I don't even know what to do. My first instinct has been to cry, the second to find someone and wring their necks but to release pent up hostility but instead I'm contemplating just sucking it up and dealing. That'll probably be the only real option anyhow because in situations like this bawling won't help and neither will committing murder. 

With this only option firmly in place im going to sink myself into...I have no idea what. 

I know there's a lesson to be learned here although I'm not sure what. I did everything I was supposed to which included research, figuring out what the plan would be and calculated time and expense but just because of some expectation that this stupid airlines has for their travelers that are unsaid and unwritten, Im stuck. 

Nope, I won't smash my hands through a window although that's my first compulsion. I'm not going to hold on to the rage.  I won't let this phase me or break me. This is just another adventure that I can blog about. That's how I need to look at it and think that at least I'm safe. 

And why the hell are they playing Careless Whispers by George Michael here?!?  What the heck when did I get pulled back to the 80s?!  Mother of god this is pathetic. 

Woosa...

Serious woosa...

Hmm. Interesting. In this cafe they have three different flavor of San Pellegrino. Just sitting out on each table. I wonder if I drink it they would charge me or whether this is a freebie. I'm seriously doubting the free thing but it's a bit curious and misleading. 

Man I so wanted to see the Blue Mosque :(

Ok but no point in focusing on something that can't happen. I'll have to move on. 

There are a lot of bored looking people in this lounge. I wonder how many hours they'll be here. Probably not as long as me. I wonder what it'll be like here at 12 am or 2 am. Probably creepy as hell. I think at that point I'll find the mosque and stay there and sleep. If they don't like it they can kick me out but that's my plan.  

Ok so things panned out. Either I didn't understand what the woman at the information desk told me or she didn't understand what I asked. I thought I was being clear but oh well...after half heartedly eating at the food court and making some weird observations of people around me.  Here's what I texted to S:

There are some weird tickets here tho. A woman is in front of me, she's wearing yoga pants, a tank and sneaks with white socks. And a red backpack and a pink bra. And her face looks like she's been sucking on a lemon for all her life. Clearly the next miss America or universe. 

And there's a huge gaggle of head scarfed women in the table next to me and they are all glaring at me because my sweater apparently is cut a shade too low. Hence I'm wearing my scarf around myself like a shawl. 😳

There's also a big family in front of me and I think he's the matriarch, he keeps giving me looks over his kids shoulder. I'm almost tempted to wink at him to see what he does but he's fugly and I don't need that sorta life altering experience.   

Ok so back to what I was saying. After eating I wandered around more aimlessly checking out shops and whatnot when all of the sudden I see signs which said "Airport Hotel". And I followed the arrows and lo and behold...I've rented a room for 15 hours for 200 USD. Yup. And worth every last red cent too. The idea of huddling around in a creepy empty airport all night long honestly was giving me the heebie jeebies even if I was assuring P and S that I was fine and this was "just another adventure". 

Even I don't need this sort of adventure. Ever.