Give it some time

Dad just left and I'm back to my lonely yet comfortable flat. But I have a plan now, to take up English yoga classes an German language lessons to meet more people marooned like me. I hope there'll be many and I hope that some of them would be interesting. Right now I am merely looking for English speakers. That's the bare minimum you need to endear yourself to me in this city. The city itself is rather charming even on a cold, winter-masquerading-as-autumn weekend like the one we just had. It didn't stop raining yesterday. Drizzling, constantly. A lesson I learned as I walked to my father's hotel from my flat was that Pearl Jam's 'Black' is less haunting on a grey, wet Saturday morning for nothing else but that every step I took was filled with enthusiasm. I had someone to talk to, someone who'd be in my flat the next morning and that someone is my father. But the luxury of such intimacy was rather short-lived. He's moved on to the next leg of his German tour and I have wound my way down to my desolation. It isn't so bad. At least I know my neighbour now and whether he knows it or likes it or not he is my new friend here. He speaks English and is a native of this city. Plus he'll be helping me find a faster internet connection. I'm writing from home right now but this connection is miserably slow. Still it's a step up from three days ago. Not just that I walked around my area and the central part of the city and discovered an array of smart bars and cafes. I have places to go now and once this weekend ends, a routine to abide. Wake up, bathe, tea, tram/train, office. Train/tram, home, cook, walk, sleep. I can do this, for six months. Somehow.

This little stint here will change me irrevocably and in a good way. I do enjoy the independence I have here. I do not have to depend on cars, chooches and men to commute. I have my own flat, my own money and most importantly a fair amount of discretion on how I conduct my personal affairs. And I have what Delhi and London can no longer offer me, anonymity. These self-induced despairing bouts of loneliness aside, I am an identity less entity here. I slip past unnoticed and I can reconstruct myself as I like for no one knows where I come from in a subjective sense. In essence, I have the power to reconstitute myself and make a fresh start. And I have Bob Dylan to provide the soundtrack to my life here.

Sundays are difficult though. All of Germany seems to collapse unto itself on Sundays. People disappear from off the streets, the sun from the clouds, the joy from my life. Winter, I suspect, shall be punishing.