Geeting used to being in Germany again

The first few hours after getting back to Germany this spring...

1.

The plane lands in Frankfurt, from the window of your plan you can see the rain lashing against the body of the plane. I remind myself to wrap my woollen scarf tightly around my neck before getting off. My feet are slightly swollen after the many hours of sitting during the long flight, but I force them into my shoes. One couldn't take any chances with the change in temperatures between India and here.  Frankfurt airport is huge. By the time I get to the immigration desks I am beginning to feel warm. I see many Indians all around, many travelling alone, and many who have just landed in Europe for the first time. They look nervous and worried. You thank your stars you know the language and have a PR. There was even a lady who I overheard speaking to someone on the phone in Assamese. But then so what I told myself. Was I jealous that she had someone to talk to? Someone who cared whether she had cleared immigration or not? I don't know. All I know is that I just heard her speaking in Assamese. 

I switched my mobile phone on while waiting at immigration. Good that my mobile had two slots, I was hoping the German one would wake up after its long winter sleep and get activated automatically. It asked me for a pin -- I needed to look it up. But yes, soon it was showing some life. Thank God! I quickly tried to put to sleep my Indian airtel connection. After all international roaming charges could get very high. I would deactivate the data part and only keep the phone going so as to be able to receive SMSs.

It didn't take long to get to the Baggage Claim area. My usual ritual, go once to the toilet (I knew exactly where there were although it is a bit hard to find hidden behind the pillars) before collecting your suitcase. Then check the time and train connections; The train for which I had a ticket was in fifteen minutes -- I would probably not get that. Bother! The next connection was in an hour, and would cost me sixty euros! These German train prices, I swear! For sixty euros I could probably have flown from Guwahati to Kolkata! Well... stop swearing, you are in Germany now, don't forget that. You have to pay whatever it costs to get home -- nothing to be done about it. 

I get to Baggage Belt Number 16. I remembered the time many years back when I did not recognise my own black suitcase. It was only when all the other bags and all the other passengers were gone that I bother to check if the solitary black suitcase still left doing the rounds on the belt was mine. And it was! What an idiot I was that time, I laughed at myself. To prevent that from happening again, I had taken to tying a little colourful ribbon to the handle of my suitcase. That till all other passengers had the same idea. But this time I would be fine. My suitcase was not black but purple. The luggage was beginning to arrive in a trickle. But look, there were many purple suitcases ... Oh no, I would have to be careful I didn't miss mine. 

It is always fun to look on as the baggage arrive. Some people recognise their boxes immediately. Others are careful and check the name tags.  And Indians who are not used to carrying even their own shopping in India can really struggle here with their large suitcases. There are quite a few big boxes -- people coming from India are known to carry everything from pressure cookers to sindoor in their luggage. Even I had half a kilo of Meghalaya haldi to portion out and give away as gifts to my friends. But I had decided not to bring two suitcases. I didn't need two. Just because Air India allowed me two did not mean I had to bring two. One was more than enough for the few weeks I was staying this time.

I can see how people are struggling to get their trolleys. At Frankfurt airport there is this strange rule that you need to insert a 2 euro coin into a machine in order to get a trolley. But how should people who are coming to Europe for the first time have a 2 euro coin ready for their trolley? And how would they ever be able to work the automat that 'dispenses' trolleys?  Maybe they are better off without those sturdy and heavy German trolleys, I tell myself. Most Indians look small and helpless in front of solid German technology. I try to look away while they struggle. I feel guilty anyway, but I do not offer to help. 

The point is I am back in Europe, and once here, I just try to live on my own, recognising only my friends here, including a few Indian ones, but generally not trying to go out of the way to find or mingle with the Indians living here. I don't know why I do it. It just feels right to do so. I have to deal with enough Indians while in India. Why do I need them here, is my standard argument. By the time my suitcase arrives, my train has left. So no point hurrying anymore. 

I saunter along the huge departure areas ... most of the shops in the arcade are closed or closing at that hour. Thank God I bought the adaptor at the WH Smith shop at Delhi airport (although I thought the price was really exorbitant), else I would have had a problem right away, first with charging my phone and then my laptop. Well... it was stupid of me to have forgotten my adaptor at home this time. Well, not stupid, perhaps silly, I corrected myself. I was trying to work on myself and had promised myself that I would not let myself get unnecessarily stressed over things I could not help. This was a typical example. Now that I had bought myself an adaptor, I would be fine. End of worries!

There are two railways stations at Frankfurt airport -- it must be really confusing for first time travellers. I am grateful that Stephan was always there in the first few times I had to navigate that huge airport. And now I know it well. At the Fernbahnhof at Frankfurt airport, meant for long-distance trains, I buy myself a coffee and a croissant, as usual, at the Ditsch kiosk. Thank God it was still there. It was about to close and the Afghan-looking sales chap was in a rush to close shop before another customer came along. I had missed these crisp yet light and flaky croissants that almost melt in the mouth all these months in India. I buy myself my train ticket -- it is expensive, but I have no choice. I will survive this, I tell myself. There could be bigger disasters. What if the train staff were still on strike and there were no trains at all to get home from Frankfurt? What would I have done then? There were many reports of many and frequent strikes both by the ground staff at German airports and by the staff of the Deutsche Bahn, the German train company. I had been worried all along. 

I looked around and wondered how my other Indian co-passengers were faring having to drag their heavy double suitcases over such long distances and with no language. Did they even clear Customs through the Green channel? But it didn't bother me too much. They had chosen to come here, I was not obliged to help them. I had enough worries of my own. But did I? And if yes, then what were they, I asked myself. Would the flat be warm enough for me to be able to sleep that night once I got home? What were the things I would need to do once I got to Würzburg? Of course if it was too late for the trams I would have to walk home. That wouldn't be pleasant if it was still raining. Once I got home, I would need to make my bed, get myself something warm to drink, and then try to get to bed as soon as possible. It was already about 2 am in the morning in India. Long past bedtime anyway.

The ICE trains in Germany all had Wifi, so I thought of using it to announce my safe arrival to the few people who needed to know. First, I wrote an email to my friend Anna in Würzburg as she did not have Whatsapp. But for people in India there was not much point in doing it rightaway. Everyone there was asleep at that hour. But surprisingly Gayatri responded immediately. 'Why are you awake?' I ask her. 'I am not sleeping too well these days,' came her response. 'Switch the damn mobile off and get some sleep,' was my retort. Jonti was also awake -- still working on some bills and other papers that he had to submit in office the next morning. 'Don't worry, I will be fine. I am often up this late,' he reassured me. 'Not everyone is like you,' he added. Well, I could see that, I told myself. My usual bedtime was around 10 p.m. I have kept awake till midnight on a few occasions, but not happily.

The trams were still running when I arrived at Würzburg station. It was not long before one came along. There were not many people on the tram, a group of noisy young people coming back from somewhere, a sleepy old man in another seat further away holding a beer bottle.  It was only 4 stops to my home from the train station. The otherwise very busy Julius promenade had a sleepy look at that hour of night. Then we crossed the Marketplace before stopping at the Dom, the Cathedral of the city. From there it was straight up to the Rathaus, the Town Hall, and then my stop. I got off ... I was the only one around...But I looked up and saw, glistening and shining in the dark night, the good old Marienberg Fortress across the river -- it was still there, looking as stately and welcoming as ever. And its perfect reflection in the river waters bade me a second welcome...The river Main was still there, right there, between me and the Festung, as the fortress is called here.  I had arrived home!

The Festung and the Kapelle in the far left

2. 

The light went on as I tried to find the keyhole to the main door of our building. It was not easy to drag my suitcase up the narrow winding staircase, but I managed. It was too late to expect to meet someone on the stairs. I tried the switch next to the front door of my flat. It worked. And in front of me was my home, my German home, and at first glance it did seem as if everything was more or less as I had left it six months ago. I could have cried in relief. Thank you God, I turned to my Gods silently gathered on a shelf at the corner of my bedroom. Thank you for keeping an eye on this place for me all these last months. Thank you!

My dear friend, Anna, had been to the flat a few days earlier and had turned on the water supply and had switched on the heating and also the refrigerator where she had put in some milk, yoghurt, apples, eggs, bread, butter and jam. What would I do in Germany without my friends? Would I survive at all? Anna had even offered to come to the train station to help me with my luggage. But I asked her not to come as I did not have much luggage and also because it would be very late. Easier to navigate things here even when it is late, than back in India. There was no way I would have managed to walk home alone at midnight from the train station in Guwahati. Maybe I would have managed but those are things one did not try out. Better not to know. Of course someone would have helped me to get my suitcase up the stairs to my flat in India. Here there was no one. But it was okay. I was still able to do that. Wonder for how much longer though...

I hung up my jacket on the only free knob of the closet, and took off my shoes. It felt good. My little bathroom seemed to be happy to see me but my tired face in the mirror told me that I should try to get some sleep soon. Didn't have the energy to make my bed afresh, I could do that properly in the morning. Just brush your teeth, change into your nightdress and go to bed, I told myself. It was a short night. My body clock woke me up at 7 am Indian time. I tried to go back to sleep. And stayed in bed till it was 7 am in Germany. Well... not bad, I told myself.

I looked around. It was still grey and dull. As I got up and opened the windows and the shutters in my living room, I could see the newly renovated balcony -- covered in grey granite slabs. At first sight it looked nice and sturdy. I would have to take a closer look later. Juergen had put back the balcony furniture. But the shelf was still in the cellar downstairs. As was the sun shade and other things. Well... there will be time to do everything, I told myself. First unpack and find some warm winter clothes. Although it was the middle of March, and there was a scent of spring in the air, temperatures were still in the single digits. I had brought a chronic cough with me from India, a cough that refused to go away. I would have to keep my neck warm at all times. Else it could only get worse, this cough I mean. Well... I would also need to go shopping later in the day. First let me get myself a cup of tea...

Everything seemed to be in their right places in the kitchen. The tea kettle was also there, only with a fresh layer of limescales. Same with the kitchen sink and tap. There was a lot of calcium in the water here. I would have to do a thorough cleaning. Well, my tea filter was still hanging on the cabinet door... After rinsing it out once, I filled the kettle with water and set it to boil. The morning looked pretty grey... would it start raining, I asked myself. Well...I didn’t need to go rightaway... there was plenty to eat in the flat, thanks to Anna. There was hardly any discernible dust anywhere. That is what is amazing about Germany. Of course I would have to do some dusting, and change the tablecloths and the bed clothes, but there was nothing that I needed to worry about urgently.

First the Wifi -- yes, my Vodafone Gigacube was sitting in the corner of the table. I just needed to switch it on. Yes, it works. Thank God for the data plan I had that charged me nothing while I was away. I unpacked my rucksack and put my laptop in its proper place on the table. I had brought work with me to do this time...I better get it set up soon and begin with work before I got carried away with other things. There was my much travelled travel apple in the rucksack, it looked bruised. Perhaps it was time for this one to be consumed and for it to be replaced by a fresh one. Opening my suitcase, I stacked away the gifts I had brought for my friends, making a mental note of who gets what. I had brought a whole kilo of strong Assam tea and half a kilo of Meghalaya haldi. I would need smaller packets to portion them out to my friends. What else... some garam masala for Anna.  And some little gifts from our little shop. The soaps were smelling very nice. 

Juergen had washed and stacked the bedclothes in a pile on my bed. It didn't take me long to make my bed. Of course these fitted sheets are easier to do when one had help. But it was not impossible to do alone. I remembered our cleaning lady in Volkach Frau Reusch, who insisted on doing all the beds herself, and refused all help. I have a method to do it which gets upset when there is a second person, she would declare. I should have asked her about her method. Would have come in handy now. Anyway, I managed. I had learnt from the Germans that the easiest way to put on a duvet cover is to first turn it upside down. Before I went out I completed the ritual of changing the door mats at the door -- the plain one was replaced with the one with the elephant motif. I also put up a little decoration on the door, just to announce my presence. Rituals, what would one do without them? They are meaningless no doubt most of the time, but still doing them made one feel better.

The familiar sound of the approaching tram made me want to take the tram although the supermarket was less than a stop away... I had bought myself a 49 euro Deutschland ticket already last night on the train, which meant that I could use all modes of public transport everywhere in the country for this month. That was one of the best things the Green party had done after becoming part of the German government. I wanted to dart across the road to catch the tram -- there was a car that had just turned the curve, but seeing me it stopped, and waved me on, not angrily but with a friendly smile. How could these car drivers be so careful all the time, so patient, so polite, so good gelaunt, I wondered. In India you rarely saw any of those friendly gestures. Car drivers in India prefer to not see pedestrians, less so pedestrians who try to dart across streets out of turn. Perhaps there were too many cars and too much pollution there for anyone to be in a good mood there, I tried to be fair.

I hopped on. Some of these trams are real antique pieces from another era, but they run very well and are very punctual. As I looked out of the window and saw the familiar Oxfam shop I felt a happy nudge -- I would have to go and check it out on my way back. Inside the tram, the usual curtesies, 'Guten morgen!' 'Wollen Sie hier austeigen?' 'Schoenen Tag wunsche ich Ihnen', etc etc. I was amazed at how quickly my German came back. Even more amazed was I at how quickly I was back to being the normal polite person, something that I had had no occasion to practice in the last few months in India. All this was repeated in the Supermarket, where I found my favourite yoghurt, two avocadoes, some cheese and meat slices, some salad, a bottle of wine and the raisin bread that I had missed all those months back home. While paying I realised that I had to use my card here and not do Gpay. Good that I had checked the pin for this German card before leaving home. Of course I had forgotten to bring my Payback card. Well... next time...

On my way back I had to wander into my favourite shop in town, the Oxfam second hand shop. One sometimes found very pretty things there for very little money. My handbag had given way after all the rough use in India, I could do with another. But there wasn't anything there that caught my fancy. Good excuse to keep coming back, I told myself. The old lady at the counter wished me a nice day as I left after a polite Auf Wiedersehen...I wondered at myself, how could I suddenly become this nice and polite person after all these months of being so rude and brash in India. I don't know. Maybe it is a fact that people normally tend to behave like everyone else around them. I made my way back to my flat.

The Festung and the Old Main Bridge

But first let me have another good look at the river Main and the Festung overlooking it... I had missed them all these last months... I took a small detour and walked down right up to the Main. And took in my fill of the stately Marienberg fortress on the hill. And the graceful Kapelle on the other hill, as well as the Alte Main Bruecke on one side and the Lowen bruecke on the other...they were all there, just as I had left them, last September. There were some people on the Old Main Bridge, even at that hour. Mostly tourists, I presumed. One had a great view of the Festung from the bridge. Below the bridge, on the river, one ship was moving into the lock there. On my other side, towards the Lions bridge, some more big cruise ships were docked ... 

So the cruises had already started.  I remembered the cruise I had gone on with Stephan in the spring of 2019. That was also around the same time, I told myself. Not much later. And it had been rather cold on some days, and windy on most days, I remembered. Well... enjoy the moment, I sternly told myself. No point just being stuck in the past. 

But there was so much here that reminded me of Stephan that it was almost automatic. 

No, that just wouldn't do. Look at the Festung and the Kapelle, I ordered myself. How many times have you walked up to them on your own after you moved to the city? Sometimes through the vineyards, sometimes with friends through the Gardenshow area, sometimes up the steep flight of steps? 

Did those ancient structures also recognise me, as I did them, I wondered. 

These four structures were somehow my coordinates in the city, as if when someone asked me where I lived, I could tell them to take the midpoint between the two bridges on the Main, then extend the line through it on one side to get to the Festung, and take the point equidistant from it on the other side of the Main. There was my flat. It was just my luck that I have come to live in the Altstadt and have these amazingly beautiful objects as my neighbours. [Quite a story, how I came to be here, in the first place, but that for another time.] The best time to look at them was at dusk when only their outlines were silhouetted against the setting sun... And later, when the moon came out, one had two of each, thanks to the still waters of the river Main (pronounced like the English word 'mine'). It reminded me of the joke when some American soldiers had gone into the office of the Main Post, the local newspaper, in Wuerzburg and asked for some stamps!

No one had recognised me till then. The first morning almost gone. In India there would have been a few people at least by now -- my maid, the chowkidar, the newspaper fellow,... But here I had no maid (my tiny flat did not need one), no chowkidar (yes, we had a Housemeister but he came only once a week to clean the stairs and put out the garbage) and no newspaper (I preferred to read the Assam Tribune on the net while here). So there... And in any case, how many people did I know in my neighbourhood that I should expect people to spot me? Not many... and the few who did were probably at work and not loitering along the Main at this hour of the day. After all it was Wednesday, a working day, for most people. The other occupants of the flats in my building were mostly students or young people. And they kept moving. I was not sure many really knew me.

But I had spoken too soon. For just in front of our flat, I ran into Valentin, my neighbour from upstairs. 'Well, I figured you had returned as the elephant was back at your doorstep!' he told me, 'Hope you had a good time at home'. I nodded and beamed back at him. 'But it is also nice to be back here.'

And I did really mean it.