»Catching Trains, Chasing Home« by Jing Regina Augusto-Wüthrich

An unusual observations about germans from a standpoint of someone who has to live with them and become like them for the rest of her life. A story of adjustments and struggles of  a eingeburgerte person from getting to know a new found idea of home and her endearment to the concepts of freizügigkeit.

»I spend my life in a routinary chase of trains and cyclic race against timetable, yet the travel never really took me to where I long to be. Home that is!« How do we define home? Is it the physical proximity to where the bare essentials are, such as a roof, a bed, a kitchen or a living room? Or is it a sense of belongingness to a culture in which we are born with? Or is it abstract as a feeling of happiness of getting into a next destination or living permanently in a new place. Or is it as abstract as it is subjective? Or all of the above!

The Long Haul

(The 17 hours to a new home)

After a 14 hour flight from the Philippines to Germany, where I slept most of the time, I was jolted by the applause of my co passengers. At first, I thought someone had a  life threatening emergency during the flight and was brought out of danger, hence the jubilation. That wasn't the case! The plane had just only landed safely at the Frankfurt International Airport.

From the runway everything looked familiar, except for the gloomy November weather and the absence of the shanties. The difference became apparent as I stepped out of the airplane. The air was fresh, fresher than I had ever breath before. The smog is the first thing I would always smell upon stepping out of the plane in Manila.

The biggest surprise, however,  was the airport interior. Spacious, clean and well maintained. Philippines may have been enjoying the distinction of having 7,107  beautiful islands in low tide and 7,106 in high  tide, but based on surveys a few years ago,the Ninoy Aquino International Airport  (NAIA) was one of the worst airport in the world.

Frankfurt Flughafen was so huge, I had to ask around for directions to the platforms for long distance trains. With only 10 minutes left I had to race from the terminal 2 to fernbahnhof, as if it was the record breaking »100 meter dash« of my life. I did not ever want to be late for my first ever longest train ride.

Hop in!
»Welcome to Deutsche Bahn« the announcement said. I made it.

The interior was orderly and similar to airplane cabins of domestic flights in the Philippines. The ICE train was not overcrowded. People were quiet, some were asleep.The two and a half hours of train ride from the airport to Erfurt engaged me into a medley of comparisons between two different transport systems.

I could remember some childhood stories about the old and rusty Philippine Railways. The long distance trains were from the post war era with some refurbishings in the 60s and 70s. The service had deteriorated after decades that train travelling became so unpopular to commuters. They said the only passengers who regularly travel from the province to the capital were chickens (dead and alive) and vegetables. Some parts of the train route were populated with people who built their makeshift houses 2 meters away from both sides of the tracks.

Peering outside the big window of the Ice train was like watching an HD TV showcasing the German Autumn background. It was November of 2003, and this extra view was so idyllic that even the train loud speakers declaring »Im Kürze erreichen wir in Erfurt« sounded so poetic.

Home Sweet home number 15
(the arrival at the new destination)

»While I arrived at my new destination, a lot of people are scrambling to get into their next.« The free flow of people invalidated the fear of being far away. It guaranteed the freedom to move around whenever, wherever and whatever the circumstances. This turned out to be my first larger- than- the -postcards impression of  Germany.

Getting down at the Erfurter Hauptbahnhof significantly gave an impression akin to a kindergarten kid entering a campus of grown ups scrambling to get into their classes. Everybody walked fast, their way of walking was hectic, energetic yet calculated and fleeting, just like time. Though it was not intimidating, the feeling was odd. I had the compulsion to move along with their rhythm and dreaded the thought of getting in their way, otherwise I would disrupt their flow. In my country, people have a more relaxed way of walking, reflective of a very carefree lifestyles and culture.

As there was this perpetual necessity for Germans to walk fast, if not run, those who were not in a hurry seem to traipse at the right side of the pavement, mostly the elderly. Catching the sight of old people, who were probably way past their retirements, whose postures were bent, some pushing their rollators, some struggling with their crutches, still engaging in a must have been strenuous effort of getting into another destination, is something I can barely see back home.

In my country, citizens of this age tend to resign into the corners of their homes and enjoy the benefit of being pampered by their own family. Their automatic »immunity« from participating in the hustles of the daily public commuting is likely understandable considering the population of 12 million in the capital city alone. There would be quite a significant few who would brave the influx of commuters during rush hours, hence the provision of special wagon for the elderly at the Metro Rail Transit in Manila. Other than this, all the other wagons would be full to the brim. Imagine each wagon as small sardines can with 300 people in it, probably even more. “Getting old in my country is congruent to a privilege, while getting old here is a privilege and at the same time an attitude.” With a transport system that was well thought and structured for everyone, it boost the elderly people to be more mobile, expansive, wandering and free.

Getting the local feeling

(integrating with the new environment)

Next to Frankfurt, Erfurt was the first locale that I set foot on and the initial fondness with its Hauptbahnhof flourished into some kind of a fixation. The occasional rendezvous escalated into frequent visits of the station and even at the Restaurants and Coffee shops nearby. My predisposition of hanging out at the station though, was to observe people savoring the pleasure of their departures or the excitement in their arrivals.

While they say that Punctuality, efficiency and Structure is in their genes, Germans also take their leisure and free time seriously. Hard work is a very well esteemed value for them and always ascertain that the countdown towards a planned voyage is on schedule, be it a small weekend excursion at another town or region, or a grand getaway in another country. The Urlaub mindset is innate in them. It is a culture that has an eager sense of neighborhood and a desire to know and experience other culture.

The future and beyond

I wish to live and experience the full extent of the culture and all the thing that comes with it. Their affinity to the ideals of Freizügigkeit, whether it refers to freedom of domicile or freedom of mobility, affirmed my nomadic nature. While long physical and mental stagnation is lethal to my soul, my daily commute from Erfurt to Weimar as a student, compensates for the monotony of the daily life.