Chapter 1
The train rattles ahead through the night, past tightly packed concrete buildings covered in graffiti and the minuscule parks and soccer fields squeezed in between. Not to mention the maze of roads filled up to the limit with cars parking on the sidelines left and right. At this hour no-one even uses them safe for the occasional taxi or bus. With a soft turn to the right, a worn-down brick wall passes by that’s covered in ferns and moss. Somebody spray-painted silver letters on there, spelling out FREEDOM FOR ROJAVA. As one does.
We slow down more and more and grind to a halt at a platform that’s just as greasy and desolate as the car I’m sitting in. Navy blue signs placed in neat, regular intervals bear the name the train’s voice announcement already called up some seconds ago. Neukölln.
I lean into my seat, hands folded behind the back of my head. Another half hour till I’m home, maybe. God knows, I need some sleep.
When I stare outside, there’s only the usual mix of kebab places, bars, liquor stores, and Turkish supermarkets to greet me. Most of the latter already closed down, of course.
My gaze wanders around the car, and a young man with curly, black hair and a short beard enters. It’s easy to see he’s not from around here. And I’m the only other person in the car, so naturally he approaches me. It’s one of those older model trains, where the cars are all still separated from each other instead of being fused into one, seemingly endless snake creeping around the city.
“Hey man, is this the train to Westkreuz?”
I nod. Leaving the city this late, is he? His suitcase would imply as much. He thanks me and sits down across from me. Which is odd, considering all the empty spots around us. Or so I’d think. I’ve encountered more bizarre sights in and around here of course.
“I’m Ricardo,” he introduces himself.
“Where from?” I ask.
“Brazil. You?”
I give him a bit of an evasive answer, the best I can do. He seems okay with it.
“What brings you to Berlin, my friend?”
I scowl.
“Work.”
Our train struggling in and out of Hermannstraße, we’re both sufficiently content with staring out of the window for a while. I can be more talkative than this most times of course. I just had a long day. Still I decide to ease the awkward tension after a while.
“So you’re just leaving? You look like it.”
“I travel a lot lately,” he explains. “I was only here for a few days. The day after tomorrow I already need to be in Amsterdam. I’m meeting a friend there.”
“So what are you working on?”
“Oh, nothing. I just finished my university in the summer. And now I go around a bit. My friend, she only now arrives in Europe from South America, so I go to Amsterdam to pick her up.” He flashes a grin. “We’ll be going up and down Great Britain and France after that. Doing all that comes with it, you understand.”
“Of course.”
As we keep making our way west along the ring, I can’t help but steal an occasional glance at this guy. He said he had a friend coming over, and it’s a she. But does that mean girlfriend, or just girl friend? Probably best not to think about it for too long. I wouldn’t mind some companionship in one way or another, but he’s probably taken in one way or another.
“Can I ask you something?” he wonders, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“Huh? I mean...yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
“Have you lived here for long? I’m assuming you live here of course.”
“Oh, just a few months,” I say. Pretty long months too, especially when you don’t even speak the language or know anybody.
“It’s always a bit of a mess this place, eh?”
“It’s a shitshow. Sorry,” I say, quickly correcting myself. “But yeah. All the late trains and the trash piling up everywhere? That’s just part of life over here, or so I’ve come to think.”
“Still,” Ricardo muses, stroking his chin. I can’t help but notice the strains of black hair on the back of his palms, much thicker than with most of the local guys. “It’s a bit unique, for Europe, anyway. And the diversity and all that? All the arts and crafts, and what you call them...”
“It gets old quickly,” I mumble, stifling a yawn. “Believe me.”
A quick glance out of the window tells me we’re just past the old airport and currently pulling into Tempelhof. Progress is slow as always, but we are getting somewhere I guess.
“How much longer are you staying?” he wonders, almost causing me to frown again.
“Tell you the truth I don’t know yet,” I say. “But there’s not exactly much for me to go back to back home. And I don’t speak the language well enough to go anywhere else in this godforsaken country, I guess. Haven’t really seen much of it yet.”
Ricardo regards me a bit critically after I say that. I think the whole mentioning god thing didn’t sit well with him. Ironic, since I came here mostly to avoid these types of people. But what can you do.
“You should travel around a bit when you have the chance. There’s so many cool places in this part of Europe, and they’re not even so far away.”
“If I can afford it, I will. Believe me,” I say. “And when it’s a bit warmer maybe. I’ve heard the summers at least aren’t this cold. But what do I know.”
“It’s warmer where you come from?”
“Oh, this is practically arctic compared to what I’m used to.”
He scratches his head and nods.
“Yes, it’s the same for me. In São Paulo we don’t even have a winter. I mean, not like this, we don’t.”
“Must be nice,” I say.
“Maybe. It’s also interesting to experience this,” he replies. “At least back home I don’t have to buy new clothes every few months.”
I blink tiredly, as the darkness outside suddenly makes way for flashes of gray and silver filling out all the windows in our wagon. This would be the giant metallic colossus that is Südkreuz station. Only one more stop, and I’m back to my quiet and peaceful solitude. It doesn’t sound as pleasant to me. It rarely does.
As the train comes to a halt, the doors slide open and a slightly overweight, bald gentleman in a leather coat enters out car. He lingers around the entrance a little, looking up and down the rows of seats, then positions himself somewhat close to us, never sitting down. I get a bit of an ominous feeling from his presence right away, but now the doors are closing already. Too late to just get out and walk away.
As the train continues, he steps up to us and pulls a small electronic device from his belt, confirming my fears. Coming to a stop in front of us, he says something to us in German. I understand maybe half of it right away, but context doesn’t leave much room for interpretation, really. Ricardo shoots me a worried look.
“Sorry, English?” I say. Not that it’ll do me any good, but it might buy us some time.
“Tickets,” the man bellows in a horrible accent. “Your tickets, please!”
“Do you speak any more English than that?” I double down, trying my best not to sound too snarky. Still, judging from his response (in German) it seems I only agitated him even more.
“Do you have a ticket?” I ask, turning back to Ricardo. His wide eyes pretty much answer the question by themselves.
“I, uh, I kind of forgot,” he says. “I didn’t know...”
“Yes, yes. Everybody kinda forgets around here,” I say. “Same with me. Look, this guy doesn’t seem to be one of the brighter ones...”
The bald men yells something more in his language. I ignore him, mostly.
“...just stick to me okay? I’ll try to keep him occupied when we’re at the next stop. You run down the nearest flight of stairs, and the next one after that. Should lead you right to a public road. Then you just take a taxi or whatever.”
“What will you do?” he wonders.
“I’ve dealt with these people before, don’t worry.”
“Okay, well, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
And I’m serious about it. Once we enter Schöneberg, the guy motions for the opening door, ushering us outside. Ricardo gets his bag ready and we both hesitantly follow him.
Seems like we’re in luck. There’s hardly a soul out on the platform, and no other colleagues of his to be seen anywhere. While it’s not exactly usual for them to go about their job all by themselves and this late no less, I know I can’t be thankful enough this one does.
“Okay...” he begins once we’re all outside. The doors close behind him, and the train is soon on its merry way again. No time for me to lose, now. Time to act.
I step up to him, and push him as hard as I can using both my arms. It takes him by surprise of course, but he’s quick to drop into a defensive stance. Once he steps back up to me, it’s my turn to retreat. I yell a few German words at him which I think should translate to something offensive. He catches on immediately by coming right at me, dropping his attention towards Ricardo completely.
And my Brazilian friend is quick to catch a hint. He sneaks out of the man’s peripheries, then sneaks past the nearby newspaper stand and towards the stairs leading down behind it. Before I even make it to the far end of the platform, he continues on down the stairs and disappears.
The station is surrounded by steel and glass walls on all sides, most of them faded and covered in bird shit. Another flight of stairs leads down from the end of the platform I’m currently moving towards, and fast.
He’ll expect me to go for the stairs of course, and I have no doubt he’ll catch me if I try. With me having already antagonized him the way I did, I don’t feel like I need to go for any more.
And so I opt for the unexpected. Right before reaching the stairs, I turn to my left instead, run for the edge of the platform and jump down onto the rails. He stays behind in a brief stupor, as I continue on down the tracks and slip out of the station by ways of the same opening the train just disappeared through. He yells for me to come back of course, but I’d be incredibly dense to listen to him now.
I sneak along the rails a little while longer, praying no other train is going to come up behind me and nobody spots me. No-one with any authority to do anything about it, anyway. Once I disappear far enough in the darkness, and too far for him to reasonably still spot me, I venture off to the right and away from the tracks. Jumping the running next to them, I eventually end up at the station’s rear exit where I would’ve come out of had I used the stairs.
Hoping he won’t pursue me any further, I run off down the road not looking back once, making several sharp left and right turns. Only when there’s evidently nobody coming after me, do I finally slow down.
I catch my breath for a moment, and look around to ascertain where I am. Figuring it out eventually, I stuff my hands into my pockets and walk on down the road, moving in the vague direction that is home. Apparently I’ve gotten lucky for once.
That being said, I’ll never know what happened to Ricardo. Whether he made it out without being caught and all that. But I wish him the best of course. Him and his friend, whoever she may be. Hopefully they’ll have fun in Amsterdam, and wherever else it is they’ll go. I’d love to join them of course, but life only ever grants you so much, I guess.
