anyway

So here I am again, back from Dresden, back in Cov and dead unhappy.

On the morning of April the 6th I got on the bus, caught the coach, boarded the plane, bought a ticket for the train... and realized that a) the ticket vending machines never work when you need them and that b) I really truly love Dresden. The train slowed down a few miles outside the city, and suddenly I felt the trees and houses and spires grew more and more familiar. Then the train pulled into the station and it felt like home. From a hazy sky the sun shone on the houses and empty lots and the station building, and a gentle breeze rustles the trees that were yet bare.

Jan didn't show up at first, but an eventual phone call cleared up the situation: due to the flood in 2002, the station has several entrances, yet no main one - which always leaves me lost. The first days were a bit awkward, and I found it hard to adjust. To cut a long story short: I'm still not alright, but I know a bit better what I want and where I'm heading. (And I've got my Jan back... I don't know if this is a good thing, but it feels as if it was.)

Anyway, so what do I want? First of all, I have to get out of here. I still love England, love the language and do feel to some extent at home in it; still, and I knew that I was right as soon as I got off the coach, I have to get out of here. Too many things have happened that I cannot deal with. No need to go into detail, but I do know that I want to go back to Dresden as soon as possible. There will be enough time to think things through when I'm there.

Anyway, the trip yesterday was... interesting. Is it only me, or do you have the impression that people lose it completely as soon as they're on public transport, as well? It is amusing, no doubt about it; sometimes, however, I feel like all the weirdos take a day off just to pluck my already strained nerves like the cords of a guitar - you know, one of those the old bums in the precinct have. I feel fucked up, worn out and absolutely out of tune. Plus I had to sit next to very sleazy, greasy guy on the coach.

Anyway. On the plane I got a seat by the window. Right next to the left wing! (I'd like to see when the turbines stop. I'm not in for any surprises.) Some rows behind me were two Germans and a poor English woman I felt inclined to feel sorry for. The German guy - judging by his looks a complete nerd - obviously knew her, and his girlfriend instantly tried to make conversation. Fucking hell, you wouldn't believe it! How do the English stand a German accent? I mean, yes, I am German, but I don't sound like this. And I don't make every freaking mistake that one could possibly make. Ay dohn't sink sis is a proplem sat ve dohn't noh eatch asa. Oh please, please stop. And now that we're at it: don't talk so frigging loud, the whole plane can overhear your bloody conversation and I feel embarrassed, utterly ashamed that on top of not speaking English you have a horrible voice and you talk complete nonsense. Thanks. It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd been aware she was being ridiculous. But no! Ay sink (Why does every bloody sentence of yours begin with 'I think'?) my lessons vere very efficient (She meant 'effective', I'm sure.), becohse ay have learn Inklish very fastly. Yeah, sure. It wouldn't have been so bad, either, if she'd been the least bit humble. But no. No, my Inklish is krayt, I don't have to listen to anyone who tries to correct me.

Anyway, the flight is only one hour of the whole journey, and I slept a bit, so I guess I missed out on the most amusing part of their conversation. Judging by the reactions of the guy sitting next to me, he found her hilarious. The coach I intended to take was sold out, but someone didn't show up and the driver let me on. Strike! I'll be in Cov by 10pm! I wasn't looking forward to not arriving until midnight.

Anyway, the driver was a chatty guy and distracted me from my magazine. Good job, I always get sick when I read on the bus, but when I don't, the people on there scare the shit out of me. I need something to help me ignore the world. As we pulled in to Luton Bus Station, the driver announced we'd have a break. Unfortunately for smokers like me, it turned out we'd be forced to stay on the bus. As soon as the driver got off the bus to help unload the passengers' luggage, a man with a little child turned up and started bothering the driver. He wanted to get on the bus and claimed he had a valid ticket to Milton Keynes. He indeed had, but as the driver rightfully pointed out, this afore-mentioned ticket was a) issued by Virgin and b) for a train. However, the good man did not (and did not want to) understand the difference between a coach (you know, wheels on tarmac) and a train (you know, locomotive and rails). Besides, his ticket was for a train that had left 45 minutes ago, so the driver assumed that the bloke had just missed it and was now trying to get on anything going to Milton Keynes - and from then on to Liverpool, as he emphasized several times. Poor Liverpudlians. In the end, the driver called the police, but the guy buggered off before they arrived. Our driver (the lord have mercy upon his psyche) was on the edge, and his driving skills were somewhat impaired for the following twenty minutes.

Anyway, on the bus from the station to my house, I met my ex-flatmate. The one who was thrown out because her boyfriend tried to beat us up (silly little coke-head) and then smashed my window. She didn't even look at me - not that I mind, mind you. Look is all she can do: as a Spanish friend of mine and compatriot of hers put it, 'She is stupid even in Spanish.' Alright then. I still don't think that stupidity is a good excuse, but what will you if you don't have the wits to think of a better one?

Anyway, it's way too late now. I'd better go to sleep while I can.