Unfortunately, no one had waited for him in Germany.
After one year of unsuccessful searching, his father took care of things.
He was put into a job training to become a ticket officer for German Railways.
Certainly the last thing he could have predicted to happen.
Just like what had occured one year, five months and three days ago.
There was hardly a job in this world with the opportunity to meet as many people as he did.
A gorgeous young woman, leaning with her head against the window to get some sleep.
A man, holding a cup from Mc Donald’s in his hands.
“Nice to see you” has been printed on the outside.
But people don’t see each other.
They just see their mobiles, their tablet PCs, but do not look at each other anymore.
At least not the way he does.
Five years back, he could tell by observing what people were interested in.
From the tours he was doing he could tell what the current bestsellers were.
Today, five out of ten people in the cabins are busy with their smartphones, busy in their own world.
He has been a ticket officer for nearly a decade here in Germany.
He grew up in a small village in Kurdistan with an absent father.
When he was three years old, Baba got a new job with great earnings, but at a great distance.
There was a high demand for railroad workers in Germany.
Although boom times were over, his father still could send more money home than they would ever make from selling olives and pistachios the family grew on the farm.
In fact, his four younger siblings and he grew up with a single parent, because his mother refused to move.
A remarkable woman: “Why would I want to sit between concrete walls when I can breathe freely?” while spreading her arms in front of their house door to the wide open country lying ahead, being for the past seven generations in the family’s hands.
He was grateful growing up independent and with a huge respect for nature.
He was taught by his grandfather to observe nature, observe and predict.
A gift, he would use later in his life more often than he could ever have expected.
Grandpa died when he was 10 years old, and they sold the land.
His mother couldn’t handle the work anymore and they moved to the suburbs of Ankara.
He was taught by his teacher to read great books, to read and to understand.
A gift, he used today more often than he could ever have expected.
When he became 18, he decided to study English literature in Istanbul and finished with a fantastic master’s degree.
His father still worked in Germany.
He had visited him three times.
His old man didn’t understand what his son was doing or how he would earn money one day.
He felt like it was time to spend some more time with Baba.
Taking a language course during his last semester at University he prepared himself for a life in Germany.
When asking for the tickets, he is still observing: Backpacks stuffed between the passengers’ feet, women balancing handbags on their thighs, businessmen with their laptops, working on their knees and never seem to stop.
But seeing people with books became quite rare recently.
Some passengers carry magazines with them.
Men usually read technical editions or fancy car topics.
Women prefer lifestyle magazines and enjoy gossip.
When seeing travel guides, he always feels happy for the people reading.
Mauritius, the Big Apple, climbing the Alps – there was a lot of inspiration for what he could do. One day.
Seeing her the first time, he could recall exactly.
She was sitting in the last cabin with a copy of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway on the way to the main station.
One year, five months and three days ago.
He remembered writing a paper about this novel during freshman year.
He was impressed that someone would read this; in fact, it was the first time he saw this beautifully written piece of an observation of the British society right after World War I on the train.
He started with her reading Cold Mountain, after seeing it in her hands.
A bit cheesy in his mind, but still he liked that the couple fought its way to get back together.
A kind of romantic saga he would have refused to read if it wasn’t for her.
She would take the train every morning, he observed.
He sees her every morning, Monday to Friday, at 7 a.m., direction main station, last cabin.
Considering the clothes, he would guess she works in an office.
She doesn’t see him.
Together they got through To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, and Nick Hornby’s Long Way Down.
For one year, five months and three days now, he imagines himself sitting next to her and tell her his impressions on the way to the main station.
He has a lot to say to her: How very much he liked her last choice, Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.
How he had cried while reading Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer.
January 2014
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