Ein nacht im Kassel-Wilhemshöhe (One night in Kassel-Wilhemshöhe) or The longest night of my life

06 July 2013

Dear one, 

The plan was to go on a day trip to Heidelberg. Everything was in order:

Roundtrip train tickets - checked

Maps - checked

Day itinerary - checked

Weather report - checked

Jacket and sunblock - checked (Yes, Germany's summer had an identity crisis.)

Camera - checked

Passport - checked

Cash - checked

My closest friends know me as the Maleta Girl - that girl with a big luggage in tow, out to explore the world and the same girl who, ironically, literally explores a whole lot of the world because she was nowhere to be found (probably, lost) when God gave out compasses. In other words, she just gets lost, anywhere, everywhere.

Because I know in myself that everything they said about Maleta Girl is true, there's just no point in denying their claims, I never leave anything to chance and sometimes, I don't even leave anything to Providence.

Until today, when God reminded me: "Hey, Geebee, it's okay to leave the scary stuff to Me."

Tired from walking all day at the breathtakingly beautiful city of Heidelberg, I fell asleep on the train ride back. As you would have guessed it, I missed the stop at Frankfurt Main Hauptbahnhof where I was supposed to get off. Now, missing the stop in a regional train in Germany is not as simple as missing the MRT station at Sengkang, getting off at Punggol and riding the train back or riding a taxi if no more trains were coming back.

I had to endure two and a half hours more inside the train to reach the next (and last) station - emphasis on the "endure". It was not because the train seat was uncomfortable or that the temperature was unbearably hot. If anything, I think the temperature must have gone a notch colder when I realized that I was faced with the unknown. I had to endure not knowing what lay ahead of me. I had no idea what Kassel-Wilhemshöhe looked like.

There was one more passenger in the same coach - a man in a Polizia uniform. I didn't have much of a choice - even if I had felt paranoid remembering stories of evil people posing as policemen - so I talked to him. "There are no more trains from Kassel going to Frankfurt. The first train tomorrow will not leave until 4 AM. Where are you from?" he said. I replied, "Manila." (Shit! Why did I tell him that? Did it matter where one is from when one is going through the most embarrassing, scariest moment of her life?) 

"What about a taxi?" I asked him again.

"It costs 200 euros." (Double shit!)

"Ok, thanks." Then I went back to my seat.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Actually, my first thought was, and I realized, it was always like that in every scrape I've ever gotten my self into, my first thought would be: "How would my mother take this news? Would she break down and cry?" You see, I could get all sappy from watching a tragic film. However, placed in a situation like the one I was in, I wouldn't cry at all. Frustrated, I would be. But tears, no. My mother does all the crying herself. I, on the other hand, play tough and think about my options.

Maybe, I should just not tell my mother. Nope, I don't lie about these things. I didn't have to tell her I was out all night partying with my housemates at Clark Quay on Chinese New Year's eve. But this was way too different - I was lost in Germany. Can you imagine that? I was lost. In Germany. Shit! Shit! Shit!

So I called her up (and I haven't seen my phone bill yet but the roaming charges may bring me to tears next month.). Surprisingly, and thankfully, she didn't go berserk over the phone. I told her I'd check if it was safe to wait until 4 AM at the station or if it was better to check-in to a hotel instead.

Then I called my friend Macha who was living in another town in Germany, told her about my situation. She was able to find an Intercity Hotel located near the train station.

When I finally got off at Kassel at past 1 AM, I had set my mind that I'd just camp at the station for the next three hours. But, boy, was it cold there! I had to find the hotel.

Although I had the hotel address, the real problem was getting there. Was the hotel within walking distance of the station? I didn't know. I walked out the door of the station and checked the vicinity map. As you would have guessed, I could not understand the map, not because it was written in German. Everybody knows that this Maleta Girl can't read maps properly regardless of what language was used in the map. I wanted to scream in frustration!

I wished there was another hotel nearer to the station. Intending to go back inside the station because I was already freezing, I turned to my right. Behold, there it was. Intercity Hotel. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

First, I went in search of a toilet at the hotel because I badly needed to empty my bladder. Up I went inconspicuously, or so I thought. I bumped into a hotel staff member. He smiled and said something to me in German, which, of course, I did not understand a word of. I replied in English, "I'm looking for the toilet." He pointed to the door of the ladies' room. 

Before I could enter the toilet, he asked, "Are you staying at the hotel?"

Without thinking, I blurted out in one breath, "No, but maybe I'll take a room. I missed my stop. I'm supposed to get off at Frankfurt."

"Okay, slowly," he smiled again and went ahead with what he was doing. 

When I went out of the toilet, he was still there. He offered me a glass of water. I had second thoughts about accepting it, paranoid about stories of evil people putting "stuff" in drinks. Oh well, bahala na si Batman! I took the glass.

He offered me the fruit basket, "Would you like an apple?"

"No. Thanks. I've had my dinner already." (It's a good thing that I did have my dinner already; otherwise, I'd have to take up a second offer from this stranger. What if the apple he was offering was poisoned? That was my overactive imagination at work, of course. I had to remind my self I wasn't Snow White.)

Then he sat down and started talking to me. "Where are you from?"

(Okay... This was the last thing I would have wanted on the night of Murphy's law - a stranger inquiring about my life.)

I didn't want to be impolite; after all, he was gracious enough to offer me a drink and an apple.

"Manila. And you, are you German?"

"I'm from Malta." And seeing my furrowed brows, he added, "Small island off Italy."

"Oh. Why are you working here, not in Italy?"

"Italy's not a good place to work. So many jobless people. Germany has the good economy."

"I see. So you're in the best place."

"Yes." Then he asked, "You have family?"

"No. I'm not married. I don't have kids yet."

"But you are beautiful." (I know. Hahaha.)

Honestly, I didn't know what to say to that so I just smiled. (Jaui said a smile always works when you didn't know the answer. It worked for her back in our days at the university. Hehehe.) 

Then I cued my exit, "Well, I'm keeping you from your work. Goodbye...? Sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Aldo. You are?"

"Maria." (Yes, I use my first name with non-Filipinos because it's easier to pronounce than my nickname.)

"Lovely name."

I smiled again. He reached out for my hand and he kissed it. I got a bit taken aback but then I remembered that the act is a social custom in some countries.

"Thanks. See you." (Now, why did I say that?) "If I see you again," I hastily added.

"In 10 years, maybe. You have kids already."

"I wish! Goodbye, Aldo." Then I escaped to the hotel lobby, got my self a room and slept in my street clothes.

My room for the night

Good morning, Kassel!

Waiting for the train that will take me back to Frankfurt

Fast forward to 10 hours after, here I am, back in Frankfurt.

This is not home. This is not even my comfort zone. But it is, at least, in the realm of my known.

Maybe in 10 years, when I do have kids and a husband, I'll go back to Kassel and look for that man, Aldo, and introduce to him the family he had (cross fingers) prophesied about me. For now, I could only utter one prayer: "Thank you, Lord, for the kindness of that stranger. Hindi na po ulit ako matutulog sa train, pramis!"