Blindfolded Phoenix - The End 11th March, 09
After I rush back from Ice swimming, I run into my room. Nearly everything I accumulated over the time of a year disappears one by one in big, black suitcases. Big, black suitcases with red buttons and red leather covers, red plastic lines defining the shape.
Yesterday I fulfilled my dream of further customizing my things - coloring the camera was part of a bigger project; everything that I have should look a specific way. On the airport, you’re never sure which suitcase is yours, because about ten people have similar ones, and by default, all of them are black. So, I took the suitcases out in the street, put them in the snow and sprayed parts of them red.
.
I run to the Second Cup on the backside of the library building. The feeling inside is similar to the Starbucks atmosphere, and I come here often since it is a five minute walk from my house. Under my arm, I have an Austrian Specialties cookbook and a Poker book. I borrowed the latter one from the son of my boss, Jeshia. The Austrian cookbook is for Naomi, so she can feel connected with our wonderful Austrian way to eat - no Maple Syrup but a lot of Germknoedel, Schnitzel and Kasnocken. We talk for a while over two coffees. Then I hug Naomi and say goodbye to her.
She gave me so many chances and opportunities, and I am really thankful for it.
When I come back, I find a beautiful drawing on my suitcase, together with a small note:
“See you somewhere in the world. Keep Creative!!! -Yukkunn”
I am really moved by this present. I had a great time with my roommates in Montreal, nearly seven months - and now everything is over. It is the end of my service. It is my last day in Canada, and it’s the last day of February. Tomorrow, everything will be different. Everything will be new. Tomorrow will be another world.
When Yukkunn is about to leave for his Ju Jistu practice, we say goodbye. We give each other a hug, and it is a good hug. I think, hugging is an important part of saying goodbye to a friend for a long time, regardless if it is a man or a woman. Michka left in the morning, and I hugged him too. During my year abroad i grew much more mature about the question of touching others - especially because I got fired for touching children’s shoulders.
.
My room as I left it for the future roommate Polin, a Quebecoir girl.
.
My last roommate Clement helps me with the heavy suitcases - and I have never had that much luggage: Two heavy suitcases, of which the bigger one has no extendable handle (so I have to walk hunchbacked to drag it on its rolls), a backpack full of books on which a bag with a photo reflector and a heavy book is mounted. Three bags of shoes and an 18″ laptop under my arm, not to forget about the camera dangling from my neck. I have no idea how I will manage to get around with all that luggage in the tight New York public transport system. Clement says goodbye - the last hug to my French roommates - and that was it. Montreal is history, for me, for now.
Would I have been born 50 years earlier, chances are high that I would never meet my roommates again. Nowadays, through technology I am connected with them for as long as the internet exists.
On the bus, I meet a woman who lives in Montreal and travels a lot through the US. Upon the question how she manages the travelling and work, she tells me that she is a massage therapist. I like this. The journey to New York will last about seven hours, so I give her a book to read: The Great Gatsby. In the meantime, I start reading a book as well. Lorena gave it to me for Christmas. It is called…
.
Tuesdays with Morrie
by Mitch Albom
Morrie is an old University Professor, diagnosed with the deadly disease ALS. Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis gradually shuts down those nerves that control muscles; starting from the feet, going up to the lungs and head. Morrie is a dying man, giving life advice. (see nightline story)
It is, simply said, the best book I have ever read.
.
.
As I continue talking to the woman on the opposite side of the aisle, we hear the bus driver shouting “DON’T TALK SO LOUD!”. We lower our voices, but five minutes later, “WHY DON’T YOU JUST SIT DOWN NEXT TO HER?!”. The bus driver is not a humorous man, so we both continue reading.
The final moment comes - the Canadian-American border. When it is my turn, I am shakingly nervous on the inside but very relaxed on the outside.
“Hello Sir”, I say.
“Ah .. mmmh ok, you have a tourist visa. What is your status in Canada? What are you planning to do in the U.S.? For how long? Where, with whom, when?”
After minutes of hoping, staring at my calm fingers and wishing to bite these nails, I get a tourist visa for three more months in the United States. I plan to stay for two months in Los Angeles, mainly because of Lorena, hopefully to find a job that sponsors me a proper visa. Now, I have a tourist visa to stay for two months. The first step is done.
I am so happy.
So happy that I have to take a really big shit.
When I return from the border patrol toilet, the bus driver is about to leave and I hop in as the last passenger, just in time. He would have left without me, would I have taken longer to wipe my buttocks. He really doesn’t like me, I think. I am too loud, have too heavy luggage, take too long dumps. Something must be wrong with me, so I continue reading.
Then the station comes where the woman has to get off the bus. “Thank you very much for lending it to me, I came halfway through”, she says and returns The Great Gatsby. She smiles. I look at the book.
It is a Christmas present from Lorena.
“Actually, I would like to give it to you. I hope you will enjoy it.”, I respond and give her the book. She smiles and gets off the bus.
.
He believes his coins are worth lots of dollars
Two hours before New York, there is a bus check, so we have to get off and wait inside a station. I meet a guy from France who shows me proudly two huge gold coins he bought on flea markets in Europe. He believes they are worth much more than the initial selling price. When he leaves, I sit next to a guy who looks like a drug addict.
” ’sup man”, he says with half closed eyes. “Hi.”
I find out that he did not sleep for 48 hours and worked very long. While we talk, his eyes close and he drops his iPod. Bunk.
He picks it up again, looks at me, says two sentences and falls asleep again.
After a couple of wake-ups and fall-asleeps he manages to tell me that he plans to go to South America with friends and a Van. Bunk.
“Where do you come from”, he asks.
“Austria.”
“Wasn’t it something like Austria-Hungary?”
“Yeah, before the first world war.”
“Ah. Yeah, right.” Bunk.
He’s a good guy.
.
.
Arriving in New York City, I manage my luggage. I open the thick snowboard jacket, put the huge laptop inside and zip the jacket. The backpack on the back, the reflector and book dangling, three bags hanging from my hand, hunchbacked to drag both suitcases and carry them up and down stairs. I feel like a cripple. Sometimes people offer me help. I guess my luggage weighted altogether 50kg.
The public transport terminal of JFK airport
After about one and a half hours later of walking through Times Square, riding subways and squeezing myself and the luggage through the narrow tunnels of NYC’s subway stations, I arrive at John F. Kennedy International Airport. It is three in the morning. I am not tired, have no desire to sleep. All I think about revolves around the girl that I am going to meet in the next airport. The whole time I feel my body is getting closer and closer to where my heart was for the last months. It is not a good idea to move to a new city while wishing to be somewhere else.
I moved to Montreal but wished all the time I would be with Lorena in Los Angeles.
Long-Distance relationships in general suck and can be painful. The reward for waiting so long, namely seeing each other again, is incredibly intense and unforgettable.
I walk to the men’s bathroom, put down all my stuff and start to undress myself. I change my clothes to the black, classy pants I wore when working as a tourguide in the Museum of Tolerance, and the blue shirt that Lorena chose for me. A black tie to finish off. When I walk out of the bathroom, small birds fly by and pick bread crumbs from the floor of the food court.
I check in my luggage at 5AM. 25$ fee because I have two suitcases. I put all my hand luggage on a bar table and walk to a McDonalds that is inside the Airport. “One big coke!”, I say while watching my luggage from the corner of my eyes. I have to pay and lose the luggage out of sight for a moment. The girl behind the counter gives me the Coke and I walk back to my stuff. No laptop.
FUCK, where is the laptop! I go through all my things, throw my snowboard jacket tpo the floor - nothing. No laptop. I look around. A guy in a suit eats maccaroni next to me. Maybe he saw something. In the corner, there is a security guard, he holds a laptop under his arm. My laptop.
“Never leave your stuff somewhere, sir. You are in New York city now. Take care.”, he says with a grin while giving the laptop back to me. I was so close to shit my pants.
.
.
This year of doing my Holocaust Memorial Service was without question the best year of my life. I lived together with a paranoid scizophrenic in a gorgeous apartment overlooking Los Angeles. I worked in the Museum of Tolerance and made hundreds of students and adults reconsider their acceptance towards others. I worked with people four times as old as me and learnt that old people are the best teachers when it comes to life experience. I went to auditions and performed in small student plays and student movies. I had a serious car crash that could have ended much worse than it did. I met hundreds of genuinly unique people. I got fired while being an unpaid intern.
I met a girl that I love more than anything I know. I moved to Canada and travelled all over it. I lived on a couch for two months. I accumulated a perverted French vocabulary. I am Louis the XIV. I saw places rarely seen by human eyes before. I held presentations in high schools and colleges and taught these students about Austrias role in the Holocaust.
I found meaning in everything I did. Apart from having an open relationship with Lorena and hurting her with it, I have no regrets. I grew mature and am proud of keeping my childishness. I opened myself towards others and through that had more experiences than I could have ever imagined. I became part of other people’s life, became part of societies far from what I knew before.
It was a year of learning. Learning about the most precious thing: Life.
.
At 11AM, I arrive in Los Angeles. I walk with my big bunch of hand luggage through a long corridor, ending in the arrival area that is open to the public. I sit down on a bench, put all my stuff next to me, covering the laptop and camera with the snowboard jacket. I take off my black tie and wrap it around my head, blindfolding myself.
It was the best year of my life. I am sitting on LAX, blindfolded, not seeing, not knowing what is going to come.
.
The only thing I know is that this end is a new beginning.
-THE END-
.
.
.
P.S.: Thank you, Mama and Papa, for making all this possible.
Start Slide Show with PicLens Lite
filed under Uncategorized |
.
5 Most Recent Posts
-
New Blog - Neuer Blog - Studium in Los Angeles 5th July, 09
-
Blindfolded Phoenix - The End 11th March, 09
-
Ice Swimming is a little expensive 6th March, 09
-
Goodbye Montreal 3rd March, 09
-
The Belvedere on Mount Royal 1st March, 09
9 Responses to “Blindfolded Phoenix - The End”
on March 11th at 4pm
And this is it?
It´s nice to see that you’re able to close the story that way, but I insanly hope that this is just the end of this chapter and not of the whole story.
Thanks for posting your storys and impressions of places that I will propably never see in my live.
regards, my best wishes and good luck in LA.
hope to hear of you soon.
on March 11th at 5pm
Hey
just wanted to tell you that i enjoyed reading this blog very much. I have it under my favourites and keep reading your entries every now and then. I’m thinking about doing an “Auslandszivieldienst” myself at the moment and your blog really motivated me to do it.
Good luck in LA and I hope that you will keep on writing.
on March 11th at 6pm
He i also hope you continue to write down the coming adventures in LA.
Had a lot of fun reading *g* Would be too bad if you really close the blog now.
So go on.
on March 12th at 3am
Also Du hast es auf jeden Fall schonmal raus, wie man Cliffhanger schreibt. Unterhaltsam und auf Deine Art und Weise hast Du uns gut unterhalten und ich hoffe - wie mein Vorredner - daß es hier auch weitergeht.
Viel Erfolg im Land der (fast) unbegrenzten Möglichkeiten und noch viel mehr mit Deiner Liebe!
bye
on March 12th at 11am
Hey!
Danke! Danke für die vielen schönen, unterhaltsamen, teils skurilen, teils beeindruckenden Geschichten.
Du hast es mit deinem Blog geschafft, dass man immer das Gefühl hatte, man folgt deinem Treiben, weiß genau was du tust — Und ich meine, was ist schon die Distanz von ein paar Tausen Kilometern.
Auf jeden Fall wünsche ich dir viel Erfolg und Glück auf deinem weiteren Lebensweg; ich denke, du hast dir selbst mehr als nur bewiesen, dass du weißt was es heißt das Leben zu leben.
Vielleicht lässt du uns ja eines Tages auf einem neuen Blog mit neuem Namen und neuem Outfit weiter an deinen beeindruckenden Abenteuern teilhaben.
Viele Grüße und alles Gute
Benjamin
on March 18th at 11am
Danke fuer wunderbare, kurzweilige Geschichten
Viel Erfolg & Glueck auf deinem weiteren Lebensweg!
on March 18th at 2pm
Aaaaalso!
@Borli: Yes, this is it. U,S, and Toby is over, finished, done. It’s the end of the current chapter and the end of the blog. Which doesn’t mean that I will not open another blog at another point.
Two reasons for this:
1) There should be an end to every story: I don’t want the blog to lose in quality and post frequency, so I better close it at an interesting point and remain with a collection of posts, instead of leaving it open and writing sometimes.
2) Time: Writing a blog like this is amazingly time consuming. Every article took me from 30 minutes up to three or four hours, depending on the complexity of Photoshop work on the photos and time I needed to visualize the story in my head before I could start telling it.
For sure, I won’t disappear, and I’ll keep everyone posted when there will be a new blog, with a new subject, another passage in my life. It will be for sure an adventure- and life-blog, like a diary, like this one.
@Andreas: good luck with starting out in the Auslandszivildienst world. It is harsh in the beginning, but never give up - and you’ll live the adventure better than you could have imagined it.
@reader: As said before, this blog is a finished collection of articles.
@macray: Danke fuer die Glueckwuensche. Ich bin total gespannt wie alles weitergeht, und werd sicher mal in Zukunft wieder sowas in der Art machen.
@Benni: Auf den Punkt getroffen. Ein neuer blog, ein anderes Aussehen, wahrscheinlich andere Orte … und so viel Leben wie moeglich!
@MH: Gerne geschehen, und vielen Dank!
—————————–
Little update: I am sitting now in a starbucks coffee in Westwood, the area where Lorena lives, the area that I moved to. I am living together with two pinup models and a girl that changes her boyfriends by the minute. I bought a cheap red convertible and have a lot of fun putting the roof down and cruising through the streets. I started a couple of photography projects. I am applying to and searching for jobs. Some freelance work on the side. The sun is shining, and life is awesome.
on March 25th at 2pm
Hallo, Tobias!
Ich hoffe, dass dich meine Geburtstagsgrüße auf diesem Wege erreichen.
Ich wünsche dir, dass sich dein weiterer Lebensweg so abenteuerlich-kreativ, erlebnisreich und aufbauend gestaltet wie bisher und ich wünsche dir weiters, dass dich dein Schutzengel ganz fest im Auge und wenn es nötig ist im Arme hält.
Ich freue mich, wenn ich dir wieder einmal persönlich begegne.
Bis dahin AALLLEEESSSS GUUUUTTTEEE und viele herzliche Grüße von deiner Taufpatin Greti samt Familie
on July 27th at 3am
[…] konnte ich seine Frühlingssprosse nur über Manuels Blog verfolgen – das war kurz, bevor ich meinen Auslandsdienst-Blog […]
Leave a Reply