The police spends a long time with the family in the next compartment. I can only hear, not see it- though I’m itching to see what it’s doing. But I don’t want to draw attention to myself. The family’s accent sounds African, and they’re loud. Compared to my compartment, consisting only of a company of two: me, typing frantically, trying to finish as much as possible of my DiplomandInnenseminararbeit before I arrive; I keep getting distracted by the landscape, and thunderstorms. And a guy dressed in white. I try to ask him if he knows how I can make more light, first in German, to be polite, even though he looks foreign. Something I learned in Norway. Then in English, because he doesn’t seem to understand. He shakes his head and remains silent. I try to ask him which language he speaks, where he’s from. Chinese, he finally says, in German. Nothing else. I point to the flimsy light above my head, and he finds the switch to illuminate the whole compartment. It had been getting dark. Awesome. Xie-xie, I mumble. He figures out what I mean and smiles.
The family’s accent sounds African, and they’re loud. There’s at least one child, and a loud mother figure. Apparently no baby, thank god. The police’s English is bad. Sie spricht eh deutsch, another passenger says. Randomly switching between English and German, the police wants to see her passport, visa, etc. These are her children? Where is she going? The police is loud, and it sounds mean. The way you’d imagine it to. When the family is loud, it sounds different. Like fufu with peanut soup, to make the cliché complete. Apparently they check out.
Of course the Chinese guy doesn’t understand the police when they come to check if we’re- what? I don’t know, it doesn’t tell us, and I know I’m not. It takes me forever to find my driver’s license, but the police is still busy with Chinese guy’s papers. His train ticket and some card. It can’t coax a passport out of him. So they look at his ticket with a special magnifying glass. It’s also interested in my birth place. Seemingly incoherent syllables. Yeah it’s in Japan, my mom worked there for a while. Apparently no rotten eggs in our compartment either. Except, now Chinese guy took off his shoes. And it kinda stinks. Where you go? Bologna. I’m surprised. Apparently he does know some words. Student? No, holiday.
We don’t talk more than that. But he reminds me of another Asian I met, on the night train to Venice a few years ago. Or was it Lyon? He was a teacher “at home”, but now he’s going to France to his mom, where he will earn more with menial work. But first- he takes a trip around Europe. I’m amazed. So work migrants are people. And they go on trips, too. For breakfast he shares a sandwich with me, with eggs and ketchup. The combination seems super-weird to me at the time, but I think I had something like that a few years later in Indonesia.
The family’s kids are bumping into the partitions. But I don’t want to sleep too much this night anyway, at least the police seems to think we are dangerous cargo.
If you poisoned a city’s water reservoir nowadays, only healthy people in healthy cities would be affected: otherwise, cities’ water is already poisoned and dirty enough, and people have to buy water in bottles in order not to get sick- or everyone lives off bottled vitamin water and diet soda anyway.
Where are you from, I ask the three women in my compartment. The train came to a halt about two stations before Bologna, and stayed there. Some problem with the electricity cables/ wires. Cut? I don’t mind if it takes forever, my hostel only opens at 10 and the first friend I’m meeting at 4.30. So I have time, time I’d rather not spend loitering at the train station because parks are not even open yet.
I’m from the United States, she is from Hamburg, and she is from the Philippines. We’re visiting our sister in Italy. Sounds awesome. What I really wanted to now is what language they speak. Rather than one of those persons who have to classify the people around them according to nationality/ country of origin, I’m a language geek. For hours I’ve been trying to figure out what language it could possibly be- I came as far as “something Asian”. Some words reminded me faintly of Indonesian, but not completely. Tagalog crossed my mind. Do they speak that in the Philippines? They look so important and busy on their laptop, or are sleeping. I don’t want to disturb them. Also, the other new compartment mate has come back. She seems to be Italian, since that seems to be pretty much the only language she speaks, and she got on at the last station. Go figure, just to get stuck for hours.
Great, now the platform TV I’ve been watching ads on for the last half hour is breaking up, too. Welcome to Italy… Nice ads, though. Not so bad considering Berlusconi owns the media, or something. What kind of a name is Silvio anyway?!
The moon looks the part of a huge golden cheese. Amazing! I’ve never seen a moon like it, and it’s already 5.30. Shouldn’t the sun be rising? Also, I think we’re going back the way we came from. I’m confused.
The landscape looks Italian, so we haven’t gone back all the way to Austria yet. Grape vines on the fields, low flat houses that look Terracotta-ish, those long kinda bushy trees.
Even though it’s considerably lighter 6 minutes later, the moon’s still cheesy.