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 stood by the train stop, now defunct. My home for the next month. Sharon and Cheb, who run the residency, had dinner waiting—a hefty bowl of quinoa with beets and goat cheese.
After we ate, Sharon offered to show me around. I’d travelled over 6,000 miles, from San Diego to Berlin and then some, but I was wide awake and didn’t feel like waiting till the next day. We jumped on unwieldy, rusty steel bikes and rode into the woods.
“Look—holes.”
The forest floor was covered with holes.
Whoever it was, I could see them moving.
A bee, a snake, a squirrel, a mole. 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 stood by the train stop, now defunct. My home for the next month. Sharon and Cheb, who run the residency, had dinner waiting—a hefty bowl of quinoa with beets and goat cheese.
After we ate, Sharon offered to show me around. I’d travelled over 6,000 miles, from San Diego to Berlin and then some, but I was wide awake and didn’t feel like waiting till the next day. We jumped on unwieldy, rusty steel bikes and rode into the woods.
“Look—holes.”
The forest floor was covered with holes.
Whoever it was, I could see them moving.
A bee, a snake, a squirrel, a mole. 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. Like a climber catching breath, dangling off a steep overhang.
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. Like a climber catching breath, dangling off a steep overhang.
Mor said, “I’m not allowing you to kill them in this house.”
7.8
We joined the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Klaus and his friends had already finished eating, but they were still chatting over a drink. It was his birthday breakfast. Seventy-something. Klaus lived next door and would give us a ride to the next town where they had an Aldi.
The room was pastel blue, which made me think of a nursery. It was almost nap time.
“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 joined the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Klaus and his friends had already finished eating, but they were still chatting over a drink. It was his birthday breakfast. Seventy-something. Klaus lived next door and would give us a ride to the next town where they had an Aldi.
The room was pastel blue, which made me think of a nursery. It was almost nap time.
“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.