....with another 26 to go at the very least.
Have I made friends? Not really. But have the bouts of aching loneliness waned? Sort of, felt one coming on during the train ride home so I simply switched the song on my iPod. Words to the wise: don't listen to Amy Winehouse's "Love is a losing game". It wasn't the song's fault. I've had a very long and arduous day today; hunger and fatigue makes me vulnerable to greyer moods I guess. And I'm not unique in feeling this vulnerability. Most of my morning was spent in an administrative office, getting myself registered as an outsider (they really know how to drive home the point), getting a residence permit and a tax card. For all my lamentations about German bureaucracy the procedure was entirely painless and rather swift. As opposed to a friend of Scandinavian descent's experience with the Foreign Registration Office back at home. I think he spent 7 hours bouncing between floors and ear-scratching babus one day despite having a letter from a high-up in the Home Ministry and of course, an Indian wife. He was a lot more cheerful about the unabashed wastage of time than I would have been.
Since I was diverted to the foreign office this morning I didn't get to test my theory. The future father of my children, this Aryan hunk, rides the same train with me in the morning. He gets off a stop before mine. I am in love from afar. Lust. Love. Whatever, it's a thin line. I suspect he takes the 8:00 am train which suits me just fine but there's no way of certifying it yet. Inshallah Thursday will be my day. The first time I saw him he sat across from me on the other side. I kept trying to sneak looks at him and I think he was looking at me too but it's highly likely that he may have just been staring out from my window. And as he got off on his stop and sauntered off the platform I shed a secret tear, there goes the father of my children. Will I ever see him again? Then came Monday. I was bobbing my head to some Nusrat song, one of the few people on the train who actually betrays some emotion when a nice song plays on her iPod, most people are so stoic. What's with that? Anyway he came and sat right beside me and I could have squealed in delight. Instead I locked my thumbs into my fist, looked the other way and just kept listening to music. Though every inch of me was tuned in to him. I was breathing more deeply, I felt paralyzed with excitement and bashfulness. I'm such a schmuck, hat if I never see him again!?! He didn't betray much either and pretty much spent the entire twenty minutes staring at my feet or his. I was dressed like The Black Widow, maybe that's what he was thinking. Black coat, black skirt, black patterned leggings, pointy-tipped stupid heels (I HATE WEARING HEELS). Now I don't remember whether there was plenty more room in the train, I'd like to think there wasn't, I'd like to think that us being n the same train again was sheer happenstance but him sitting beside me was by design. I'd like to think a lot of things, and I do. He's my bedouin rescuer in this desert of humanity. Next time. Next time I shan't be such a coward. But how the hell do I start talking to him? And what if he doesn't speak any Enlish at all!?! Scheize!
One other thing I've noticed during my daily commute which isn't really excitin actually but it's there in my head. There's hardly any poverty in this city. In London and many other English cities you're bound to see homeless people or strugglers. Here, I'll see poorer people than the average but not one who could be called poor. Then again it isn't a multicultural city. It's mostly a white city but not smarmy white, just white. It seems to be a very rich city given the superb public transport, the fabulously well-maintained parks, the wide roads, hi-tech buildings. One of the parks here is supposedly twice the size of Cental Park, it's a veritable forest. I'm considering hiring a bike and traveling through it next weekend since Berlin will have to be a November or late October trip. I can't wait to see Berlin, I've read too man spy novels and heard far too much industrial goth punk techno to not ache to see the city-culture that spawned it. I like how they think Berlin is large with 1.5-2 million people. My boss, the one I have a crush on (he's like a giraffe, tall, gentle and oh soooooo pretty), is from a Dutch town of 50,000 people. This city here has a population of 500,000; he started to chuckle when I made some remark about how it's so small. Then I told him Delhi quite possibly is home to at least 10-12 million people, though not everyone gets treated as people. I don't think he believed me. Or he couldn't wrap his head around such a city because that many people equal a country in head. Like how I can't wrap my head around what -20 degree celsius cold feels like. I'll be sure to share it when it happens. The town hall had an interesting pastiche of this city through the times. X in 1639, then 1939, then 1945 and now. X at 1945 was an empty shell of itself. Despite being ravaged during WW-II, it doesn't look too newly constructed. Somehow they managed to avoid recasting it in cold concrete, I can't quite put my thumb on it but it feels like an old city. A survivor. Which it is. The Altstadt or Old Town in particular is exquisite with old Tudor style buildings. I think that's what they're called, the ones with the woodwork on the outside. Lots of Old Gothic Cathedrals and a Town Hall that could put the Rashtrapati Bhavan to shame. Glorious.
That was a tokenism my friends. My mind's still on Mr. Tinkertrain. He's sooooooo purtty and I wanna have his babies. I wish he didn't have the pubestahce though. A tiny little goatee on the dent below his lower lip. Overall though, he's gorgeous. Tall, lean, dark haired, small dark eyes, beautiful full lips. Not the typical Aryan male actually but he's German that's for sure. And I've only ever seen him in a pinstripe suit. He can't be too old either not that it matters. Still he hasn't an ounce of sartorial flair that Zivania did. Zivania never wore suits to work but he always dressed so well, even on his days off. European Abercombie and Fitch if you get my drift. Oh well, here's to Thursday.
Have I made friends? Not really. But have the bouts of aching loneliness waned? Sort of, felt one coming on during the train ride home so I simply switched the song on my iPod. Words to the wise: don't listen to Amy Winehouse's "Love is a losing game". It wasn't the song's fault. I've had a very long and arduous day today; hunger and fatigue makes me vulnerable to greyer moods I guess. And I'm not unique in feeling this vulnerability. Most of my morning was spent in an administrative office, getting myself registered as an outsider (they really know how to drive home the point), getting a residence permit and a tax card. For all my lamentations about German bureaucracy the procedure was entirely painless and rather swift. As opposed to a friend of Scandinavian descent's experience with the Foreign Registration Office back at home. I think he spent 7 hours bouncing between floors and ear-scratching babus one day despite having a letter from a high-up in the Home Ministry and of course, an Indian wife. He was a lot more cheerful about the unabashed wastage of time than I would have been.
Since I was diverted to the foreign office this morning I didn't get to test my theory. The future father of my children, this Aryan hunk, rides the same train with me in the morning. He gets off a stop before mine. I am in love from afar. Lust. Love. Whatever, it's a thin line. I suspect he takes the 8:00 am train which suits me just fine but there's no way of certifying it yet. Inshallah Thursday will be my day. The first time I saw him he sat across from me on the other side. I kept trying to sneak looks at him and I think he was looking at me too but it's highly likely that he may have just been staring out from my window. And as he got off on his stop and sauntered off the platform I shed a secret tear, there goes the father of my children. Will I ever see him again? Then came Monday. I was bobbing my head to some Nusrat song, one of the few people on the train who actually betrays some emotion when a nice song plays on her iPod, most people are so stoic. What's with that? Anyway he came and sat right beside me and I could have squealed in delight. Instead I locked my thumbs into my fist, looked the other way and just kept listening to music. Though every inch of me was tuned in to him. I was breathing more deeply, I felt paralyzed with excitement and bashfulness. I'm such a schmuck, hat if I never see him again!?! He didn't betray much either and pretty much spent the entire twenty minutes staring at my feet or his. I was dressed like The Black Widow, maybe that's what he was thinking. Black coat, black skirt, black patterned leggings, pointy-tipped stupid heels (I HATE WEARING HEELS). Now I don't remember whether there was plenty more room in the train, I'd like to think there wasn't, I'd like to think that us being n the same train again was sheer happenstance but him sitting beside me was by design. I'd like to think a lot of things, and I do. He's my bedouin rescuer in this desert of humanity. Next time. Next time I shan't be such a coward. But how the hell do I start talking to him? And what if he doesn't speak any Enlish at all!?! Scheize!
One other thing I've noticed during my daily commute which isn't really excitin actually but it's there in my head. There's hardly any poverty in this city. In London and many other English cities you're bound to see homeless people or strugglers. Here, I'll see poorer people than the average but not one who could be called poor. Then again it isn't a multicultural city. It's mostly a white city but not smarmy white, just white. It seems to be a very rich city given the superb public transport, the fabulously well-maintained parks, the wide roads, hi-tech buildings. One of the parks here is supposedly twice the size of Cental Park, it's a veritable forest. I'm considering hiring a bike and traveling through it next weekend since Berlin will have to be a November or late October trip. I can't wait to see Berlin, I've read too man spy novels and heard far too much industrial goth punk techno to not ache to see the city-culture that spawned it. I like how they think Berlin is large with 1.5-2 million people. My boss, the one I have a crush on (he's like a giraffe, tall, gentle and oh soooooo pretty), is from a Dutch town of 50,000 people. This city here has a population of 500,000; he started to chuckle when I made some remark about how it's so small. Then I told him Delhi quite possibly is home to at least 10-12 million people, though not everyone gets treated as people. I don't think he believed me. Or he couldn't wrap his head around such a city because that many people equal a country in head. Like how I can't wrap my head around what -20 degree celsius cold feels like. I'll be sure to share it when it happens. The town hall had an interesting pastiche of this city through the times. X in 1639, then 1939, then 1945 and now. X at 1945 was an empty shell of itself. Despite being ravaged during WW-II, it doesn't look too newly constructed. Somehow they managed to avoid recasting it in cold concrete, I can't quite put my thumb on it but it feels like an old city. A survivor. Which it is. The Altstadt or Old Town in particular is exquisite with old Tudor style buildings. I think that's what they're called, the ones with the woodwork on the outside. Lots of Old Gothic Cathedrals and a Town Hall that could put the Rashtrapati Bhavan to shame. Glorious.
That was a tokenism my friends. My mind's still on Mr. Tinkertrain. He's sooooooo purtty and I wanna have his babies. I wish he didn't have the pubestahce though. A tiny little goatee on the dent below his lower lip. Overall though, he's gorgeous. Tall, lean, dark haired, small dark eyes, beautiful full lips. Not the typical Aryan male actually but he's German that's for sure. And I've only ever seen him in a pinstripe suit. He can't be too old either not that it matters. Still he hasn't an ounce of sartorial flair that Zivania did. Zivania never wore suits to work but he always dressed so well, even on his days off. European Abercombie and Fitch if you get my drift. Oh well, here's to Thursday.
6 comments:
chhotaa muh badi baat:
http://www.wikihow.com/Start-a-Conversation-With-a-Stranger
erm..."Nice day, isn't it?" might be worth a shot.
hello.
I first saw your blog a month or so back, just a day or so before leaving for my vacation to Europe and now I come back to find that you are in Berlin. I was there and loved it for several reasons some of which you mention. Your description of the city is very accurate. You should take the walking tours of Berlin. Sounds touristy but very informative.
ps: Love your writing...
?
@anon1: it's not berlin i live in. tee hee! but i do plan to go there soon.
@anon2: "?" right back at ya!
Both posts were by me. The "?" was a test to see if my posts were getting through. If not in Berlin, where do you live? Or is that too much to give away?
And well, if you are not living in Berlin, then the walking tour and pub crawl are even better as a tourist.
If you are dying to meet English speaking people, you should try living for a while in the hostels. Tons of them. In Copenhagen, a Norwegian guy we met at the hostel there was doing just that. Of course his place was being refurbished and had a veritable reason for doing so.
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