Apologies on the delay, I had an experience with the transit system in Germany this past week - leaving me with having to focus my very whittled down writing time on work. But we'll get to the transit system later...
I survived the flight! This was my first flight longer than 4 hours (it was about 7 hours) and it was mostly smooth with a little turbulence. However, I sometimes didn't know what to do with myself. So, I caught up on some messages, did a lot of writing, and watched the latest Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy.
The Bridget Jones series is one of my comfort series, though I'd had no idea what to expect for this 5th installment.
It hit home in more ways than one, particularly the central theme of grief (hopefully not too spoilery, and if it is... my bad). I'll put a line of ---- for when we've finished the non-grief discussion part of this blog entry, just in case <3
I'm going to tangent for just a moment (I tangent a lot, you should all probably know that now), and share one of my favourite quotes from the movie "A Boy Called Christmas." (At least part of it was actually originally said by the Queen, but I first heard it as narrated by the great Dame Maggie Smith). It goes: "Grief is the price we pay for love, and worth it a million times over."
As someone who's big on love (I know you know), I trust in grief. Something recently actually gave me an epiphany-esque realization regarding people and grief. I honestly wish I'd seen it sooner. But I suppose truly important things take time to learn.
Grief can affect us in many ways. It can seep into how we see ourselves - such as via punishment or self-deprecation - it can seep into our interactions with others - things like pushing away, or in some cases piling too much - or it can cause us to isolate...
But you know what? I've seen and felt what it does. I know that in order for someone to feel grief that deeply, that profoundly... it means they loved just as deeply. And truly, those people who love so deeply... they're the ones I know are good people. Whom I would trust. Even if they can't or won't see it themselves just yet. Grief doesn't make you weak. It often means you made a brave choice. You chose to love, despite knowing on some level it could some day mean loss. Some of us do that more than once too. Whether it's partners, friends, pets, connecting with family... we know the price, and we're willing enough to face it. So bottom line before I go back to things like mediocre mac and cheese on too-hot airplanes, is that when you choose to love, knowing there will most likely be grief of some kind attached... that matters.
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Anyway. Back to our originally scheduled stream of consciousness: The Flight.
It was a strangely odd feeling being without a decent phone connection for that long, and not being able to do much about it (unless I wanted to pay $30/2hr for wifi access - I did it once, then realized it only lasted two hours, a chunk of which was interrupted by dinner). I'm definitely guilty of being someone who doesn't put her phone down for long, so... like I said, it was odd.
But yeah, the plane was uncomfortably hot, the mac and cheese with dinner was meh, but the potato salad was good. And the vanilla MOUSSE... probably the best vanilla mousse I've ever had, I kid you not. Also had this fun thing I often get while travelling - it happens every time I cross the Ontario/Quebec border without fail. I don't know if it's allergies or what, but I'll suddenly get an intense burning/itching sensation in my eyes and they'll water like mad for 5 to 10 minutes. Inconvenient, but not the end of the world. It lasted a little longer on the plane, but still faded as usual. Does anyone else have this happen? Am I just allergic to certain borderlines? (I will note, I did not have watery eyes when flying from Berlin to Edinburgh).
The first thing I noticed while the plane was taxi-ing in to the Frankfurt airport that looked different from Canada, was the firetrucks. It also made me wonder if Germany's response system has more responder availability than ours and... I'm pretty sure the answer is yes, based on what I heard in Berlin. But I'll get there.
So I got in line to go through the passport gates and had what I thought was an experience that might set a heavier tone for the rest of my trip.
I was standing in line, and suddenly heard the sound of my backpack zipper being opened. I'd been thoroughly warned about major cities in Europe having a lot of skilled pickpockets (including those with fingers like feathers, and those who would slice the bottom of your bag open, if they wanted to) - though did think it was a little strange in the Frankfurt airport. I whirled around, and was met with the terrified face of a young girl.
With "pickpocket" echoing in my head, I assumed it to be the fear of being caught. So I put on a stern expression, firmed up my tone, and asked, "Did you take anything?"
She looked too stunned to answer, and then her group leader was shuffling her and her friends over to a different line. As she walked away, I added, "If I see you doing that again, I will call security."
I figured a warning would be good enough.
I ended up observing her for a bit - partially because I was bored in line and partially to see if she'd try someone else's bag. And y'know what? I did notice something. This girl... is a fidgeter. Touching and playing with everything, including to the point of annoying her travel companions, cannot stay still.
I concluded it was highly likely she just saw the zipper on my bag and thought "I really need to touch that." Maybe it was even a grounding mechanism for her, who knows. In any case, my perspective changed and I stopped seeing her as a pickpocket. That said, I still locked my zippers with the TSA-approved luggage locks, because you never know. And hey, maybe that caution saved me from actually getting pick-pocketed.
I will be honest in that the layout of the Frankfurt airport was exhausting. Particularly after I was told that I needed to collect my suitcase for the next leg of my flight. After walking... something like 20 minutes down this insanely long airport, I grew uncertain when the arrows leading to the Baggage Claim also boasted the word ausgang (German for "exit"). The fact it led to turnstiles made me even more unsure so I asked two incredibly kind airport employees what to do.
They showed me that it stated right on my luggage identification ticket where I would be collecting my luggage. It said "BER via FRA." Which meant, I would collect it in Berlin after passing through Frankfurt. I hadn't needed to walk quite that far after all.
Anyway, already fatigued, I finally went back to get my first true European coffee. It was actually pretty good - turns out the caramel macchiato is a commonly available thing here, it's one of my favourites, albeit, insanely hot. It also helped me learn that my debit card did NOT, in fact, work in Germany and I'd have to rely on only my credit card. That's proven true in Scotland as well thus far, except for cash withdrawal. I got a pretzel with my coffee, too (when in Germany...) And I proceeded on to my flight gate to watch the sun rise while having my airport breakfast.
The Frankfurt airport did feel much calmer and less crowded than the Montreal one. Granted, that could be because it was early on a Sunday morning rather than peak work day times. That also threw me a little. Noting it was 6 hours later than Ottawa time when my phone connected to local networks - my lock screen shows both the local time and "home" time. I put "home" in quotation marks because I'm learning to see myself as home. Though Almonte is definitely home base.
Another observation I made pretty early on, was how they label their washrooms. "Damen" (women) and "Herren" (men). My German friend, V, later informed me that it's more common to say "frau" than "dame" in regular conversation, and to never say "fraulein" as it can be seen as insulting. Good to know.
Boarding Flight #2 to Berlin was pretty straightforward. I read all the signs we passed while taxi-ing, and - true to form - I giggled at anything ending in "fahrt." V later explained that "fahr" is to do with driving. I.e. "fahrschule" which means "driving school." I noticed quite a few of those in Germany. I also grinned when my plane passed another Lufthansa plane that had redone its logo to "Lovehansa," and the "Love" was done in Pride colours. Y'all know how I feel about love <3.
Take-off had the usual weightless feeling, followed by the awe of being above the clouds. I've seen it a few times now, and it truly never gets old.
This flight gave us a couple of complimentary things as well. First was a water bottle - it was a little one that said "Aqua D'Or" and became my water bottle for Germany. It was with that water bottle that I also realized European water bottles have these wee plastic attachments that keep the lid attached to the bottle. Such a tiny, tiny thing physically and manufacturally speaking, yet so intuitive. How many bottle cap losses has this prevented? Likely millions, no doubt.
We were also given little Lindt chocolates that, when you opened them, bore the Lufthansa symbol right on them. As an amateur chocolatier myself, I greatly appreciated that little detail. And the chocolate was good, as Lindt always is.
I had a window seat again, which meant I got to see two things I've never seen before while in flight:
- The sun glancing off the plane (possibly one of the windows) actually cast a reflection on the cloud tops, much like when you have a glass prism reflecting while hanging in a window. It reminded me of a sun dog [ https://www.skyatnightmagazine.com/space-science/sun-dogs ], if you've ever seen one of those. They're pretty cool.
- I saw a visible slipstream coming over the tip of the plane wing. It was really cool and brand new to me, I didn't know it would be so stark.
Landing was a little jarring when the wheels hit the ground, but it quickly smoothened out into an easy taxi. On my walk to the Baggage Claim (I was certain about it this time), I had a little giggle on reading some of the door signs: "Ausgang" which, as we know, is German for exit, and "notausgang" which my brain went, "oh, 'not exit'," though it actually means "emergency exit." Which, I was planning to not use anyway.
As I waited by the circling baggage conveyor belt, I thought it was an oddly comforting ritual we do in airports. Everyone gathers, waits, watches this steady, slow motion, and no one takes bags that aren't theirs (at least, not that I've seen). This unspoken thing we all just know how to take part in, is something I also notice whenever I'm on a bus, or waiting for a Deutsche Bahn train/bus (don't worry, I will be talking a LOT about that later), or in an elevator. You kind of get to know the faces of people around you and it becomes like a tiny, impromptu feeling of community. And when you all part ways, you - or at least, I do - wonder if you'll ever bump into those people again, or if that was it. Just that one moment in time.
Was that too deep for baggage claim? Well, how about this: Y'know what else sparks joy in airports? The happy looks on people's faces when they see their bag coming Just Around the Riverbend. It's like they've just spotted a loved one; their travel companion. Ever noticed that? Maybe it's just me... I definitely light up when I see my suitcase. Which, I did collect without any issue.
I'll be posting Guess Who's Berl-in Town Part II soon! And there will be many more pictures to come, brace yourself. For now, I'm off to check out some places in Scotland, which you'll hear about in later entries.
Remember when we all loved each other?
Much love,
Alison
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