7.2
I arrived in Klein Warnow, a small village in Karlstädt, nestled in a beech forest. The village, roughly equidistant from Berlin and Hambourg, was a popular stop back when the railroad opened in 1840s.
The three-story storage shed by this defunct train stop will be my home for the next month. Sharon and Cheb, my hosts, had dinner waiting (a hefty bowl of quinoa with veggies and goat cheese). After the meal, Sharon offered to show me around. Despite traveling some 6,000 miles, I was wide awake and didn’t feel like waiting till the next day. Out we went, on unwieldy, squeaky steel bikes.
“Look—holes.”
The forest floor, fallen trees, moldy trunks. The place was covered with holes.
Inside lived some creature. A bee, a snake, a squirrel, a mole, a groundhog. They’d made trip after trip, out and back, until finally they gouged out a place to rest.
The hole keeps you warm at night.
I arrived in Klein Warnow, a small village in Karlstädt, nestled in a beech forest. The village, roughly equidistant from Berlin and Hambourg, was a popular stop back when the railroad opened in 1840s.
The three-story storage shed by this defunct train stop will be my home for the next month. Sharon and Cheb, my hosts, had dinner waiting (a hefty bowl of quinoa with veggies and goat cheese). After the meal, Sharon offered to show me around. Despite traveling some 6,000 miles, I was wide awake and didn’t feel like waiting till the next day. Out we went, on unwieldy, squeaky steel bikes.
“Look—holes.”
The forest floor, fallen trees, moldy trunks. The place was covered with holes.
Inside lived some creature. A bee, a snake, a squirrel, a mole, a groundhog. They’d made trip after trip, out and back, until finally they gouged out a place to rest.
The hole keeps you warm at night.
7.7
Something caught my eye when I was washing my hands in the bathroom: a cluster of dots, two three inches above the soap box. Up close, they turned out to be a family of ants. Their bodies had a dark reddish hue. They weren’t moving so fast, or at all, at times. They could have been climbers gripping tiny holds to move up a cliff.
Mor said, “I’m not allowing you to kill them in this house.”
Something caught my eye when I was washing my hands in the bathroom: a cluster of dots, two three inches above the soap box. Up close, they turned out to be a family of ants. Their bodies had a dark reddish hue. They weren’t moving so fast, or at all, at times. They could have been climbers gripping tiny holds to move up a cliff.
Mor said, “I’m not allowing you to kill them in this house.”
7.8
We took our seats at the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Klaus and his four friends had finished eating, but they were still chatting over a drink or two. It was Klaus’ birthday breakfast. Blue was the color of the room and my memory of it.
“You’re from America, but you don’t look American because your family is from Asia, no?” Klaus said, smiling.
“Yes,” I said, also smiling.
7.10
At Grabow, I met Gerhard, 70s, thick white beard, bald save for a few streaks of hair. His bright green overalls, which he said were his old uniform, accentuated his rotund shape. I didn’t ask him why he was still wearing them.
Gerhard was extremely affable or just curious, which didn’t sit well with Mor.
I asked him about the abandoned fabrik in front of us. The imposing brick building was the first thing I noticed as we drove into town. He pointed to the plaque by the entrance. Although my German was rudimentary, I somehow understood that it had been a corn mill factory back in the 14th century. Pipes, cut open and wide enough for me to crawl inside, stuck out from the solid wall.
We took our seats at the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Klaus and his four friends had finished eating, but they were still chatting over a drink or two. It was Klaus’ birthday breakfast. Blue was the color of the room and my memory of it.
“You’re from America, but you don’t look American because your family is from Asia, no?” Klaus said, smiling.
“Yes,” I said, also smiling.
7.10
At Grabow, I met Gerhard, 70s, thick white beard, bald save for a few streaks of hair. His bright green overalls, which he said were his old uniform, accentuated his rotund shape. I didn’t ask him why he was still wearing them.
Gerhard was extremely affable or just curious, which didn’t sit well with Mor.
I asked him about the abandoned fabrik in front of us. The imposing brick building was the first thing I noticed as we drove into town. He pointed to the plaque by the entrance. Although my German was rudimentary, I somehow understood that it had been a corn mill factory back in the 14th century. Pipes, cut open and wide enough for me to crawl inside, stuck out from the solid wall.
7.13
Stepping on the damp, springy forest bed gives me the illusion that I’m stepping on someone.
Stepping on the damp, springy forest bed gives me the illusion that I’m stepping on someone.