Erste Tag

How it starts. In English. On a bus to O'Hare, as I pass my appartment. Just the beginning, and everything is going fine so far. Es geht gut. 12.20 pm.

Over Europa. After three hours on the bus, an hour in line in front of the counter, and a few more hours at the gate, I got on the plane. We crossed the ocean. With one movie (never-ending) and a delightful conversation en français avec une autrichienne qui connaît les États-Unis, le Mexique, l'Amerique du Sud et l'Europe bien sûr. Von Wien.



2.02 am in Chicago (as in Kansas, in Mexico), 9.02 am in Zurich (as in Berlin, in Paris). My third or fourth coffee on the flight, and I think I slept like 5 minutes. If I open the window the sun shines over the clouds and all I can see is a blinding white. I manage to split the space with the camera and one can see the red cross on the wing. I start slurring back some 'danke', 'bitte', 'ohne'. We're flying at 850 km/h. With this coffee (which I've been told to finish now, and which reminds me already of European coffee in a gare, waiting for the train, or early morning in the hotel, ready to leave) I'd love to have a cigarette. (Too young to remember what was to smoke on airplanes... although I do remember the smell of somebody smoking on a plane). (Listening to: Serge Gainsbourg-Requiem pour un con)

10.54 am - 03/05/09
There's a certain flavour. The same one as in a train station but now in an European airport. The niceness of people that makes you think on the future that Europe has always represented (aber...) First sentence: Ich könne mit visa zahlen? Ja. Still, in a fish-tank enjoying a cigarette & a coffee. What's it that I hear? German or Italian? Something in between. First day in 7 years that I return to this continent. I always thought that I'd do it through Paris, France at the least. Better this way, everything in my life better this way.
I've been taking some pictures, mainly portraits (the Austrian woman on the plane told me she didn't like Schiele) and I look certainly older. The strong flavour of an European coffee: Italian, signore. Makes you think of Shakespeare. A couple of hours and you'll be in Berlin. The officer of immigration asked you were did you live (puzzled you) & then what is the capital of Indiana. You said "Indianapolis." He smiled.
You're feeling tired. Flight to Berlin, taxi to Leibnizstrasse, perhaps rest. Then. One thing here: all the languages. Perhaps your German is gonna show up. Ihn warte ich. Ich warte ihn. Er wartet mich (?). Un avis de la police, attention au voleur, ne laissez jamais votre bagage sans attention... en espagnol aussi. Not too much coffee left. Another cigarette? As a remainder of a lost world. "Rauchen gefährdet die Gesundheit." Vivre ici. Hier leben. Was ist europäisch? You learn languages to read, the woman said she learned them because "those were her neighbours"... far have we come.


(NB: several points -2 or 3- in your life, now, in more than 2 continents. Imagine a map with red lights. Yours now on Zurich. Photograph this)
Dans le commencement. Man beginnt. Mann beginnt. Frau. Meine Frau.
For a moment you feel like a relic. And yet-a cough-tomorrow exercise. How much of this spirit is yours? You feel the jetlag in your vowels. Ich warte. Es wartet mich. Das Tod. (der Tod, die Tod?) Tôt ou tard, la salle s'emplie. Voix. Sans pluriel, toujours pluriel. What will you write in 2 months? As strong as the last time. You better move soon. Der Himmel uber dich. One more sip. ¿Esperas? 2009. Party like it was 2010. Always more civilized. Va bene.

Berlin.