memories 3
27 January 1998
I did a crazy thing today. I actually opened my window when it was like 2 degrees outside. I opened my window wide, and the wind blew my hair into my face, into my eyes. But the feeling was actually very wonderful. In spite of the cold, I found myself smiling. As I tried to get my hair out of my eyes, I noticed his window opening. He looked out and up, at the sky, a smile slowly forming. When he looked down again, our eyes met.
That, is called ‘A Moment of Magic.’
His eyes lit up in surprise and our smiles became grins. He nodded to me in acknowledgement.
I really wanted to shout something, something in his language. Anything.
But I realised I knew nothing about it. Not even a simple ‘How are you?’
He waved, and before I could even react, his window was shut again.
Even now, I still feel very empty.
“Moment of Magic…where is the magic when you need it most?”
**
I went for a run again. Usually, I would only run up till the Innere Kanalstrasse, with the Television Tower as the marker. But on this day, I felt especially restless, as though something was drawing me, pulling me to it. I found myself running towards the Mediapark, the modern media hub of Cologne.
Running across the bridge, I knew why.
I saw her by the lake with a group of children. Perhaps you would ask, how could I be sure?
How would I forget her face? I had been searching everywhere for her. And now, there she was, on the bank of the lake.
I stopped and started to walk instead. Walk towards her.
She was drawing. One of the kids, a boy ran to her with his sketchbook. She broke into a smile and nodded in approval, patting him on the head. The rest of the kids surrounded her with their works. I stood there, by the foot of the bridge, 20 meters away from her, and watched her. She’s very good with kids.
She clapped and stood up, saying something. The kids jumped up and chattered among themselves as they started packing up. I walked up to them.
That was when she noticed my presence. She tilted her head slightly as I approached.
I thought I was going to just stand there and not say a single thing. I almost couldn’t say a thing, not that I had really given much thought to it. Looking back, I was so focused on finding her that I had forgotten about what should happen next, what should I say, et cetera. Maybe I thought that everything would fall in place once I find her.
In the end, I asked in Japanese, “Are you Japanese?”
She narrowed her eyes and looked away, lips pursed, as though in thought. Then she replied me in German, “I don’t know. I am German, but my parents come from Japan.”
“I see.”
What else was I supposed to say?
The kids were watching, and they started chanting, “You’ve got a boyfriend…”
She turned to them, pretending to be stern as she told them to quieten down. They laughed and one of the boys said something which I didn’t really understand. Neither could I understand her reply. Then she made a gesture for them to leave. “Go!”
They finally dispersed, leaving us alone.
“Sorry… Kids,” she smiled apologetically.
I shrugged, “It’s ok.”
“Are you Japanese?”
“I am Korean, but I have lived in Tokyo for almost my entire life.”
She started packing her stuff. I helped her with her drawing materials. She muttered her thanks.
“Isn’t it cold?” she asked suddenly
“It’s ok.”
She smiled, “You like to say that, don’t you?”
I was dumbfounded. I never ever gave much thought to that. It just came naturally, the answer.
“Anyway, what are you doing in Cologne?”
“I am learning German, and after that, I don’t know.”
“Oh…”
“What about you, are you a student?”
“Yeah, I am studying at the Hochschule für Musik Köln. Violin."
Only when she pretended to play the violin did I understand her last word.
She looked at her watch. “I have to go. Good luck in Cologne.”
I had a lot to say, but I didn’t know how to express myself, not even in Japanese. So, she left. I didn’t know her name, didn’t know anything else, other than the fact that her parents were Japanese, she played the violin, where she studied.
**
28 January 1998
I went down to the big bookstore at Neumarkt, hoping to find something on Japan and the language. As I browsed the language section, it then dawned on me that I had only assumed that he’s Japanese. I found a beginner’s learning package, and a phrasebook. I decided to trust my instinct.
On my way back, I bumped into him. He nodded and brushed past me. Maybe he was in a hurry. Maybe, maybe.
Why am I thinking of reasons for his indifference?
**
It was drizzling. As I waited at the traffic light, I noticed a familiar figure across the road, hurrying in the direction of my house. Impossible, I thought. I checked to make sure there was no traffic before dashing across the road.
It was her. She walked quickly, checking her watch. She entered the narrow street my house was on, but on the opposite side. She stopped at one of the doors, somewhere in the middle of the street and pressed a button. Then she entered the building.
She didn’t live here. If she had, I would have seen her somehow, I was sure.
I went to the house she entered. Number 10. Directly opposite mine, I realised. My house was number 11. I stepped back and looked up. As though I could see her through the wall.
I stepped further back, behind a tree.
The door swung open, and she rushed out. I pressed myself against the tree. She stopped for a while, and then turned towards me. Then she ran past me, in the direction we had both come from.
Were those tears on her face, or raindrops?
**
2 February 1998
Japanese is really, really, really very difficult.
I did a crazy thing today. I actually opened my window when it was like 2 degrees outside. I opened my window wide, and the wind blew my hair into my face, into my eyes. But the feeling was actually very wonderful. In spite of the cold, I found myself smiling. As I tried to get my hair out of my eyes, I noticed his window opening. He looked out and up, at the sky, a smile slowly forming. When he looked down again, our eyes met.
That, is called ‘A Moment of Magic.’
His eyes lit up in surprise and our smiles became grins. He nodded to me in acknowledgement.
I really wanted to shout something, something in his language. Anything.
But I realised I knew nothing about it. Not even a simple ‘How are you?’
He waved, and before I could even react, his window was shut again.
Even now, I still feel very empty.
“Moment of Magic…where is the magic when you need it most?”
**
I went for a run again. Usually, I would only run up till the Innere Kanalstrasse, with the Television Tower as the marker. But on this day, I felt especially restless, as though something was drawing me, pulling me to it. I found myself running towards the Mediapark, the modern media hub of Cologne.
Running across the bridge, I knew why.
I saw her by the lake with a group of children. Perhaps you would ask, how could I be sure?
How would I forget her face? I had been searching everywhere for her. And now, there she was, on the bank of the lake.
I stopped and started to walk instead. Walk towards her.
She was drawing. One of the kids, a boy ran to her with his sketchbook. She broke into a smile and nodded in approval, patting him on the head. The rest of the kids surrounded her with their works. I stood there, by the foot of the bridge, 20 meters away from her, and watched her. She’s very good with kids.
She clapped and stood up, saying something. The kids jumped up and chattered among themselves as they started packing up. I walked up to them.
That was when she noticed my presence. She tilted her head slightly as I approached.
I thought I was going to just stand there and not say a single thing. I almost couldn’t say a thing, not that I had really given much thought to it. Looking back, I was so focused on finding her that I had forgotten about what should happen next, what should I say, et cetera. Maybe I thought that everything would fall in place once I find her.
In the end, I asked in Japanese, “Are you Japanese?”
She narrowed her eyes and looked away, lips pursed, as though in thought. Then she replied me in German, “I don’t know. I am German, but my parents come from Japan.”
“I see.”
What else was I supposed to say?
The kids were watching, and they started chanting, “You’ve got a boyfriend…”
She turned to them, pretending to be stern as she told them to quieten down. They laughed and one of the boys said something which I didn’t really understand. Neither could I understand her reply. Then she made a gesture for them to leave. “Go!”
They finally dispersed, leaving us alone.
“Sorry… Kids,” she smiled apologetically.
I shrugged, “It’s ok.”
“Are you Japanese?”
“I am Korean, but I have lived in Tokyo for almost my entire life.”
She started packing her stuff. I helped her with her drawing materials. She muttered her thanks.
“Isn’t it cold?” she asked suddenly
“It’s ok.”
She smiled, “You like to say that, don’t you?”
I was dumbfounded. I never ever gave much thought to that. It just came naturally, the answer.
“Anyway, what are you doing in Cologne?”
“I am learning German, and after that, I don’t know.”
“Oh…”
“What about you, are you a student?”
“Yeah, I am studying at the Hochschule für Musik Köln. Violin."
Only when she pretended to play the violin did I understand her last word.
She looked at her watch. “I have to go. Good luck in Cologne.”
I had a lot to say, but I didn’t know how to express myself, not even in Japanese. So, she left. I didn’t know her name, didn’t know anything else, other than the fact that her parents were Japanese, she played the violin, where she studied.
**
28 January 1998
I went down to the big bookstore at Neumarkt, hoping to find something on Japan and the language. As I browsed the language section, it then dawned on me that I had only assumed that he’s Japanese. I found a beginner’s learning package, and a phrasebook. I decided to trust my instinct.
On my way back, I bumped into him. He nodded and brushed past me. Maybe he was in a hurry. Maybe, maybe.
Why am I thinking of reasons for his indifference?
**
It was drizzling. As I waited at the traffic light, I noticed a familiar figure across the road, hurrying in the direction of my house. Impossible, I thought. I checked to make sure there was no traffic before dashing across the road.
It was her. She walked quickly, checking her watch. She entered the narrow street my house was on, but on the opposite side. She stopped at one of the doors, somewhere in the middle of the street and pressed a button. Then she entered the building.
She didn’t live here. If she had, I would have seen her somehow, I was sure.
I went to the house she entered. Number 10. Directly opposite mine, I realised. My house was number 11. I stepped back and looked up. As though I could see her through the wall.
I stepped further back, behind a tree.
The door swung open, and she rushed out. I pressed myself against the tree. She stopped for a while, and then turned towards me. Then she ran past me, in the direction we had both come from.
Were those tears on her face, or raindrops?
**
2 February 1998
Japanese is really, really, really very difficult.
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