ÖV
Or Life Without My Green Nissan Micra I Called Salad.
Part One
Zurich Examples.
Public transportation in Switzerland is very special to me. Actually, it carries a significant meaning to the whole nation. Greetings to the bus-guy.
Tuesday, Berne-Zürich
I need to be at the airport at 9:30 so this calls for the eight o’clock InterCity. I am incredibly sleepy and the thought of a cup of the bad coffee from the little Elvetino-carriage on wheels makes me sit on the upper floor and keeps me awake. It is a very special morning, because none of us there going somewhere today says a word, and everyone has feet-space; it is indeed unusually quiet, so I, too, switch off my phone and close the eyes. The little friendly man is yelling from the back: „Kaffee-Tee-Gipfeli-Sandwich-Mineraaal!“
Same day, Zürich-Berne
I have always wanted to write a train story. Perhaps a crime one. There is an utterly unattractive young man in a pink pullover sitting across. I wonder if he would soon kill someone in my crime story. He definitely looks as if able to. He entered just before the train took off and asked me the damn question: Ischdanofrei? I wonder if anyone ever tried simply saying no, this here is not available for you. I felt so much like it – and instead of telling him that all the three free seats were taken by my bag, my Mac and my imaginary friend Anna I heard myself replying JA. He was rude enough to take the window seat so I had to move my feet. Naturally, he has now turned on his hiphopping Ipod, is now watching me and drawling through his yellow teeth. I have decided that his character is the one to meet his end in my book.
Saturday night, Zürich-Bern
I have just had a wonderful day. Long undisturbed sleep in the morning followed by a cup of perfect cappuccino in the Café Federal. Cooking delicious thai food with an old friend Philipp, accompanied by an excellent white wine and high quality conversation, followed by a late-night shot of grappa and a half an hour of sparkling chat with Yvonne. Having capsuled all these emotions I enter the train and try to find an available seat facing the driving direction. I hate sitting backwards but I compensate it by asking a handsome guy travelling alone if the one across him was still free. We immediately have an unspoken understanding regarding the arrangement of feet and he has cute green eyes. Everything looks promising until a minute before the doors close two giggling teenagers plump themselves next to us. Both of us throw them icy looks, and then look at each other in a silent agreement. Perhaps I could write a love-story, instead. Great material available here in the public transportation just waiting to be put down.
Part One
Zurich Examples.
Public transportation in Switzerland is very special to me. Actually, it carries a significant meaning to the whole nation. Greetings to the bus-guy.
Tuesday, Berne-Zürich
I need to be at the airport at 9:30 so this calls for the eight o’clock InterCity. I am incredibly sleepy and the thought of a cup of the bad coffee from the little Elvetino-carriage on wheels makes me sit on the upper floor and keeps me awake. It is a very special morning, because none of us there going somewhere today says a word, and everyone has feet-space; it is indeed unusually quiet, so I, too, switch off my phone and close the eyes. The little friendly man is yelling from the back: „Kaffee-Tee-Gipfeli-Sandwich-Mineraaal!“
Same day, Zürich-Berne
I have always wanted to write a train story. Perhaps a crime one. There is an utterly unattractive young man in a pink pullover sitting across. I wonder if he would soon kill someone in my crime story. He definitely looks as if able to. He entered just before the train took off and asked me the damn question: Ischdanofrei? I wonder if anyone ever tried simply saying no, this here is not available for you. I felt so much like it – and instead of telling him that all the three free seats were taken by my bag, my Mac and my imaginary friend Anna I heard myself replying JA. He was rude enough to take the window seat so I had to move my feet. Naturally, he has now turned on his hiphopping Ipod, is now watching me and drawling through his yellow teeth. I have decided that his character is the one to meet his end in my book.
Saturday night, Zürich-Bern
I have just had a wonderful day. Long undisturbed sleep in the morning followed by a cup of perfect cappuccino in the Café Federal. Cooking delicious thai food with an old friend Philipp, accompanied by an excellent white wine and high quality conversation, followed by a late-night shot of grappa and a half an hour of sparkling chat with Yvonne. Having capsuled all these emotions I enter the train and try to find an available seat facing the driving direction. I hate sitting backwards but I compensate it by asking a handsome guy travelling alone if the one across him was still free. We immediately have an unspoken understanding regarding the arrangement of feet and he has cute green eyes. Everything looks promising until a minute before the doors close two giggling teenagers plump themselves next to us. Both of us throw them icy looks, and then look at each other in a silent agreement. Perhaps I could write a love-story, instead. Great material available here in the public transportation just waiting to be put down.
tinkerblond - 14. Aug, 08:00
