On the plane

115

As I write these lines, I am sitting on the plane. And I am starting to think that maybe I am a compulsive blogger. Because yesterday Ingrid (who everyone in the choir and all my neighbours thinks is my girlfriend which is not true as I have to inform you) said, “Ah, you don’t need to take your laptop. You can blog when you get home”. Well, I did not follow her advice this time (most other times I do.)

I seem to have started a habit on getting to my plane just in time. Today, I changed trains at the very last minute in Ohlsdorf – otherwise I would have gone wrong again and not ended up at the airport. After I had briefed our new intern (who’s quite lovely by the way), I had already taken the wrong metro from work so either the transport system is complicated or I am dumb. Or rather I am so excited to set foot on Stockholm soil again after exactly two months that I cannot concentrate. I am sure I also packed a bunch of useless things because I had a hard time thinking. (Also Ingrid’s fault who kept distracting me with something that I really hope she will guestblog about.)

At the airport, I realized the duty free shop can never beat Aldi when it comes to buying alcohol. I navigate Hamburg airport surprisingly well after the countless trips there and back and I know all flights to Stockholm always leave at the gate downstairs to the very left. (I can literally not remember any flight I’ve taken from Hamburg that was not to Stockholm. It’s like I am commuting.)

What I did not know was that a pop up store with hand lotions had opened there. The gentleman behind the counter was a good salesman as he succeeded in making me stop even thought my flight was boarding in, eh, minus 5 minutes. As I was telling him that, he had already taken my hands into his, telling me how dry they were and asking me if I was American. “This peeling is really good for die Hände”, he explained in a weird combination of German and English. “I also recommend it for die Füße, it’s really sehr effektiv”. It took some five minutes until I could get away because the thing is if you have dead sea salt all over your hands, it’s kind of difficult to just walk away. When I finally hurried toward the gate, two ladies tried to stop me to sell something and when I said, “I really need to board the plane”, they replied, “It only takes two minutes”. How is two minutes “only” if you are running late? For a plane? Working in sales at the airport must be terrible.

Of course I made it elegantly (read: I was not the last on the plane, not at all) and am now probably flying over Malmö. As a preparation (and because I forgot my Grey’s Anatomy videos) I re-watched “Our last summer”, a video I made with my friends Angie and Magdalena last year. I had written a new text to the ABBA song that fitted our memories from working together at the tourist center. As I watch it again, all the memories of the summer of the three month long bliss return.

This year is very different. But still this year our friendships have survived. This year, again, I will get to spend two days with a handful of these people. Even this year, there is a Swedish summer. In the midst of the darkest winter I found there was, within me,  an invincible summer. 

 

 

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