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21 December 06:46pm

I am not in Italy

After making my parents queue for nearly 5 hours, the airport gave us all meal vouchers and booked us into a hotel here in the city of Frankfurt. It would be cool except that it’s night time, and winter, so sight-seeing is kind of impossible. Also we have limited cash and no luggage (we’re not allowed to collect it from the airport. I don’t know why. Let’s all pray a prayer of protection over my clothes, boots and hair straightener please. Oh crap – and one of my English set works!)

So I’m in Germany, and in the 20 minute drive from the pooport to the hotel, I have noticed a few things…The sun in winter sets really, really early. And supper starts really really late. It is now pitch black, and we still have an hour until restaurant opens. Tummy growl.

The architecture in the residential area seems very similar to Italy, and the pine trees and shrubs dusted in snowflakes are also reminiscent of northern Italy. Funny how I was hesitant to write ‘of my hometown’ there.

My hometown feels more adequately described as having palm trees, ridiculous humidity levels, and a minimum temperature of ten degrees Celsius. And kickass friends. Dehben. I miss ya.

On the news TV in the airport the reporters are going on and on about those idiots who stole the sign from the Auschwitz death camp, a sign saying “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work sets you free”). Driving through this city I wonder and look into apartment windows… I wonder what it was like to walk on these pavements and face out these windows, with the Nazi regime overshadowing your life like a total, endless eclipse. It seems so far away sometimes…there are less and less living survivors. As I grow older, the days of World War Two history lessons are fading behind me. And yet driving through this city, it felt like it was all still here. The same buildings. Streets. The very body, the physical structure of the city has seen it all. Memory marks people, maybe it marks the cityscape as well.

Maybe I’m just really tired. Maybe not.

In other news, I need to be content with what I have, and stop trying to pull a Spiderman, to orchestrate all kinds of tricksy webs to get what I. Just. Cannot. Have.

In plain English, this means I need to stop being a moron and accept that if I’m not meant to love someone, then somebody else is meant to love that someone. Be happy, pack your bags, and move on.

If only life was as easy as jumping on a plane and flying off.

See what I did there.

The arbitrary thoughts that flow out of my mind and into my Draft messages on my cellphone

> (Walking down the street in Gtown, recovering from a crappy breakup) What a glorious day! Things are just going smoothly and the house is clean. It’s so much nicer to live with fewer people. Regina is honestly an angel. Our kettle was flaking and I had no clue what to do with it. A week after I mention this problem to her, she comes over with special powder to fix it. I mean who does that!! What a legend! Feels kind of like having an aunt around. I’m back to cool crazy Marty now. Working hard but laughing, loving life. Getting splinters…

>(Sitting around listening to the City Bowl Mizers) Seasons change and winter fades, the Durban sun comes out, people change and friendships fade and sail away, but we sail on, we sail on.

> (Lying awake wondering why I can’t just be comfortably single) I think it’s okay to feel incomplete without someone to love you, as a lover, as your one and only beloved. I think it’s okay to crave that, to make that union part of your life dreams, to not rest until you find that missing piece, missing peace. I think it’s human, at least for me.

> (An inspirational quote from the book of Nessie) Be strong like very pretty ox.

> (Following a chat with Nessie) The Bible says that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28 NIV). However it also says don’t only love your friends, “love your enemies, do good to them” (Luke 6:35 NIV).

So, how does God love his enemies, if he sends them/allows them to be sent to Hell? Or is God exempt from the commandments/advice he gives his people? How can we as his people then follow the God who does not practice what he preaches? And if we are made in his image and are meant to strive to be like him, surely he should be the complete embodiment of all our commandments/advice?

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Comments on: "Travelblog travelblog bring me my baags" (2)

  1. atimetorend said:

    Welcome to the frosty northern hemisphere!

    The very body, the physical structure of the city has seen it all. Memory marks people, maybe it marks the cityscape as well.
    I ponder that about buildings and history too; it is haunting.

    • Thank you for the welcome! im running out to take pics of the snow before it melts 😛

      And yeah, it feels weird that the people have of course changed, but the city is still there. It’s like living in a house where a murder took place. A little creepy.

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