Storied By Josh

The tumbler sits on the table. The clear tinged brown liquid is warm and causes a warmth in my throat, a bravery in my heart. Hemingway said about whiskey “when you are cold and wet, what else can warm you?” He also said to never drink when you are working. I pick up the tumbler as I remember that bit. I decide he was probably drunk when he wrote that and sip away.

“What took you so long?” She asks me as she comes in and sits on the couch.
“To start writing this?”
“In general.” She answers with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t know.”

I have so many things I want to say before of the end of things. Is it so terrible that I cannot sometimes? That the way to write them eludes me and I am sorry?

“I have so many things to say.
And sometimes I cannot find a way to.”

The Girl with the Sunkissed Hair looks at me and touches my shoulder.
“If you would just start then it will come out.”
“I am now.”
“That is good.”

I don’t show her the dozen or so started then abandoned stories. She leans down and kisses my forehead. She shuts the door as she leaves.

I have so many things to say before the end of things comes.

There is a place in the world where I feel home. There mountains jut above green filled valleys, lakes and rivers cut through them. Old large wooden built estates are punctuated by painted trims and numerous windows. Small towns dot the landscape. Lovely people eek out their lifestyles in these villages in the shadows of the mountains where castles rise above the alpine foliage. Trains take the denizens to and from work, quickly and on time. The cars dart down the roads, and the air is crisp. Lots of beer is drank out of large glasses by strong men and women in darkened pubs and flowered biergardens with views of the sheer rocks that line the borders. Here in this place I feel I can rest.

The two towers of the old church push toward the skyline. In Munchen no building is allowed to be taller than they two pillars of culture. The plane circles outside of the city. I breathe a sigh of relief as we land. We have travelled many miles to be here again. Anna came here again for me. I came because I must breathe this city and I feel right again.

We would love to collapse in our hotel, as we are jet lagged and ten hours behind the time here. We have done this before, however, and know we must push ourselves past it. To sleep is an error. The time we get away from our normality, surrounded in another’s normality is precious.

As I have travelled I’ve learned the best way for me to get a handle on a new area is to walk, and to walk it. I find the nearest DM, and the nearest Aldi’s. We find the nearest S-Bahn, or city train, station. We find a small deli, run by immigrants. One of the owners is from Palestine. The other is from Chicago. They make Shawarma and Schnitzel side by side. Germans of all colors pass through his door while we are there. For more than a hundred years the United States was considered the melting pot of the world. Within the last decade however, the US became wary of outsiders. It was a consequence of a horrible attack. But the wound the attack caused festers and walls are built to keep the country “clean.” It is a disgusting nationalism that festers and the country is the worse for it. The US is losing its place in the world. Germany and other countries are taking its place as beacons of democracy and unity. As I sat there I looked and wondered where things were headed.

Anna and I both order espressos. The men are lovely and speak to us about each other and how they came to Munich. Some time has passed since the refugee crisis in 2015, but such an influx of people in the EU created a need. This need turned into opportunities for the government and likewise it created opportunity for entrepreneurs. These two are the latter. They have a niche here in this building that is both apartments and businesses. They are happy to make a new lives in this country. I order a beer.

The Palestinian says something in German in perfect dialect to another customer. It is beautiful to hear. I sigh and feel a calmness settle on my shoulders.

Years ago when we were young, we met a couple of German kids in on Oahu. The girl was lovely and quiet, the boy was handsome and boisterous. After a couple days of awkward hellos, they finally opened up over beers by the pool.

I fell in love with them quite quickly. They were traveling the world to learn, we were traveling to escape. We spent much time in the backyard of a home, bathed in the sun drinking beers and learning from one another. We hiked together, and we became friends. The last time we saw them was at the Christkindlemarkt in Munich. They were older and so were we. Their names are Christian and Regina, we are to meet them for a homemade tour of Baden-Wurttemberg and Bavaria.

Two days pass. Anna and I spend it exploring food, things we know and things we don’t. I drink beer from 1 liter glasses and steins. We eat and eat and eat.

The day arrives we are to meet Christian and Regina. The platform for the train is concrete and cold, the overhead bridge is shade against the sun. The S Bahn will take us to the Munich Hauptbahnhof or central station, and from there we will take a train to the country. We will meet our friends near Christian’s village. Anna and I are old veterans of trains, Germany’s are the easiest for me to navigate. We enjoy our ride immensely. Americans, unless they travel across the sea, cannot know the joy of a train ride. It is a welcome change for me from the hassle and stress of air travel. If I had a choice, I would only take trains everywhere I go.

After we arrive at the station, I leave Anna to find some water. I stand behind a police officer and order two waters in a small café/shop in the train station. “Swie Wasser, ein gas und ein nicht gas.” I say, hoping my broken German conveys my message. The girl behind the counter understands and nods. This far south the dialect is a little different. I look up to see Regina walk toward Anna and Anna runs to her. She hugs her. I finish paying.

Anna waves to me and I walk over. “Regina!” I call and we embrace. Christian picks us up in his car. After our salutations we begin our ride. In the South of Germany most of the country is farm fields, large sprawling estates with enormous houses, punctuated by small bits of forest and groves. Christian Anna Regina and I converse with each other. Regina switches from English to German and back again. She’s a multilingual and I am thankful for it. I break off from conversation to stare out the window at the passing fields. It is all so wonderful and I am so very tired.

We are getting older. They are no longer children, but adults. Christian works in insurance now. Regina works with immigrants, providing them resources to get a foothold in Germany, and thrive in the most beautiful place in the world. They are lost in a new land they came to escape their deaths. They speak with broken German, sometimes none at all. So they come to her, broken and lost. She takes them in. She shows them paper work and how to procure funds to establish themselves. To the lost and vulnerable she is an angel in Germany.
“I cannot tell you how many of them have asked if I needed a husband.” She says to us with comically exaggerated annoyance.

There is a place called Alpine Coaster Oberammergau where one rides a self-controlled roller coaster 2000 meters down a mountain. First one must climb to it. They provide a tram if one needs, but we hike instead. I sweat profusely. Because it is Germany, someone decently thought to provide a restaurant with food and German beer at the top of the hill. We stop to eat first. After Regina shows us how to order, we take a seat outside amongst the rows of picnic tables on the sprawling deck. The top of the mountain rises beside us, a sentinel. Christian and Regina regale us with tales of how life has been. We tell them. It is strange then how so much seems to change with time, but very fundamental things that make us who we are do not. I wonder to myself about this as the Bavarian sun beats down on my shoulders.

There are llamas held within a fence just a couple dozen meters away so we walk over to them as our food settles. We watch as the animals graze lazily. It is near noon and I am warm. Below where we stand the valley opens up, green with homes and farms dotted along roads toward the horizon. A lake cuts through the green. Down there, hidden from most war, far away from the hustle and bustle of the world lies thousands of years of culture, history. The lake itself is much older. It provided a much needed respite for Gauls in an age passed.

When people speak of heaven this is what they must envision.

Christian is chomping at the bit to ride so we get our tickets. The old man who services the cars makes a joke in German about how he hopes we will not die. Anna laughs nervously. We race down the mountain in our little roller coaster cars, with Anna being a distant last. She isn’t as fast as us, but I know she will probably enjoy it just the same as we do.

We stop for another beer down below. Regina gets dessert. Christian and I pose for a photo as he talks to his employer on his phone. Germany, it seems is much like where we come from, where to go to one place can take all day. It is nearing early evening so we leave.

We visit a castle with deer on the grounds. I am informed one may hunt these deer if they pay the owner of the castle one hundred fifty thousand euros. It is a beautiful place anyway. We finally meet Christian’s mother: Mrs. Halder, and sister. His mother is beautiful and very friendly. Their home is typically German, two stories, utilizing all given space. It is cozy as all middle class homes are, with a garden and back deck, overlooking a football field. At Mrs. Halder’s suggestion, we continue to eat sweets, drink beer and visit outside, basking in the evening sun. The football field that borders the backyard is where Christian learned to play and love it. He still does. A few months after we leave football will take his ACL. Life can be a villain sometimes. Soon, after my third or fourth beer we decide to finally go to where we will be staying for the evening. I wish Mrs. Halder farewell and we depart.

We arrive in a tiny, beautiful village called Aulendorf, Regina’s hometown. She has her own flat. For dinner she makes us Bavarian food. We eat to our heart’s content. I am suddenly very tired. I begin to fall asleep as I watch German news with Christian. I understand nothing but when very simple words are spoken anyway. I bid them goodnight.

The next morning I break Regina’s coffee maker.

It is the worst thing in the world.

“I need coffee.” I ceremoniously declare. Christian takes me to a deli where old Germans are eating breakfast. We both order coffees for everyone. I look to the old Germans eating breakfast as we wait.

During the cold war, Germans who were very good at their jobs, and some that weren’t were involuntary immigrated to Russia to farm or to manufacture for the USSR. Regina’s family was one of these. Her parents, like her grandparents speak fluent Russian and German, but very little English. When The Wall fell, the Germans who had been forcefully transplanted moved back home, only to find it so changed that they couldn’t recognize it. They moved together into communities, Russian-German communities. Many of them are still Russian Orthodox. I learn this from Regina. It must be a strange thing to come back to a home that you love with all your heart, to only find that it isn’t as it was. That it has advanced far beyond what you remember, and to find yourself homeless once again, as you never thought you were.

Her parents are lovely. As we pack to leave back to the train station. We speak to them through Christian translating, he is patient and kind. We speak of our differences and the things that are the same. At one point Regina’s mother asks if I speak Italian or Spanish. I tell her no. Anna informs her that in America, it isn’t mandatory to learn another language. Regina’s mother says something in German and Christian blushes.
“What did she say?”
“Uh…that Americans are too proud.” I laugh, heartily. One of the many beautiful things about Germans is they don’t mince words.
“Sorry about that.” He begins, but I interrupt.
“Don’t be, she’s right.” I tell him. We wave goodbye and I hope for nothing but good for the citizens of Aulendorf. The way they reclaimed a home for themselves after near lifetimes of hardship is beautiful, and a testament to humanity.

Regina bids us adieu but cannot accompany us as she is late for work. Christian gives us a ride to the train station. I bid him farewell. I will only see him once more, briefly, to say goodbye at Regina’s university graduation.

We see Regina again at Oktoberfest. There we meet two of her friends and another called Felix. I know immediately that he is a man after my own heart. I see the fire of a trouble maker in his eyes. We become fast friends. I will spare the details but it goes how most Oktoberfest stories go. There is drinking, silliness and a lost phone. We start early in the afternoon and go until late in the evening. We visit many beer tents. They are closer to proper structures, and if left up could be permanent buildings. Like most Bavarians, Regina is in a traditional Dirndl and wears a beautiful Edelweiss pendant. Anna and I forgo the traditional dress. There are many selfies taken, pictures of waitress carrying their weight in beer steins. We drink with locals and foreigners both. We meet Australians, Canadians and avoid the Americans. Much of it is a blur.

As we depart at the train station I am saddened terribly. I do not know when I will see my dear friends again. My heart breaks a little. I begin to cry and Regina settles me. She touches my shoulder and then boards the train. We watch her leave. I must walk. I cannot be on a train I must walk. So we do.

Anna and I meet an old friend soon after. Dana is a proper drinker, always ready for a good time and always cheerful. We eat more food and tour Munich together. We go shopping in the market section and visit food stalls. Fall in Germany is a very special time for the people who live there. We are caught up in it as well. Our friend takes us to her favourite Irish bar. They know her name because of course they do. She is a wonderful person. After this she will be going north. She is leaving soon and must depart. We bid her adieu. She skips away from the restaurant, happily and full of adventure.

I learn something about people everywhere we go. I learn that we often fear each other because of our own ignorance. These things we say are so different aren’t really. There is a thing Hemingway said that the world is “a fine place, and worth the fighting for. I very much hate to leave it.” He was right, but maybe if we stopped fighting each other for it, and dared to share it, we dared to help each other. Dared to forgive, dared to love, we could make this place more beautiful for everyone. Instead we frequently view each other with distrust. We are, after all only animals who have learned to make fire and to write. How much more could we be, I wonder if we decided that “the world is a fine place and worth the sharing.”

The day before we leave we meet Christian and Regina again just outside of the university. I call to them by the water fountain. Christian pats my belly. “What is this?” He asks.
“Saur brauten, Schnitzel und bier!” I reply and we laugh together. He pulls me close and I hug him.

I turn to Regina. She wears the robes of graduation. I hug her goodbye. She pulls back. “Oh Josh.” She says.
“It’s okay.” I say to her. “I’m okay this time.” And her eyes begin to tear.
“We must go.” Her friend says.
“Yes, we’ll be late, the ceremony starts soon.”
“Goodbye my very dear friends.” And we turn. I hold the Girl with the Sunkissed Hair’s hand as we walk away. My chest burns and a weight begins to settle down again. I do not know if we will ever see them again.

The next day Anna and I board the train to Budapest.

In the Munich Hauptbahnhof I stop by a gift shop and quickly find a sterling silver edelweiss. I buy it and pin it to my jacket. Anna sees, touches it and smiles. She understands its meaning.

The sun is rising once more over Munich. Can we stop this train? Can we?
Last chance I say to Anna as we board.
She smiles, we must go on.
I turn toward the window as we pick up speed.

The Bavarian country goes by faster, then faster still.

My eyes sting. I sigh. She takes my hand.

And I am not ready, I am not.

The world is sometimes terrible and can be such a villain. Like life, though, it is all we have and we must share it with each other. It is worth the sharing, after all. People can be so awful to each other, but I know we are better than just animals, we can be good. We can be whole and love and say these things that must be said, do these things that must be done. We can help, if we only remember to be kind, do to each other as we would have them do to us and most of all, to save the vulnerable.

I still have the Edelweiss pinned on my jacket. I look to it these days of division and anger. It helps me to remember love one another, to be kind, patient and to take care of the ones who need it. Just as she does, my friend, the angel in Germany.