I almost started to write about the hazards of can opening this week, but, after some consideration and a little doodle, I elected it best to save that story for another time, since the particular event gave me quite a bit to think about during the course of the week.
Last Tuesday morning after a night of rather disturbed sleep, I managed to catch my train, made my connection in Köln, and walked into work feeling a bit tired. Normally, I do not nap on the train, instead choosing to catch up emails or other work related tasks; ones that do not need network connections, etc.
The day was not particularly eventful, but I felt pretty tired through the rest of the day, as well as on the homeward commute. There has been quite of work related stress in the past month of so, but I am certainly not alone in this, so at the very least there is a bit of comfort knowing that my colleagues are working just as much and feeling just as much pressure.
On Wednesday morning, I once again roused myself and drowsily boarded the train. For a few minutes, I just sort of sat in a fog, trying to feel more awake. I noticed that some of the train employees (connductors, bistro staff, etc) did not look so perky, either.
My morning commute involves a ride from Frankfurt to Köln, where I jump over and catch a connecting train that goes into Düsseldorf. If everything goes well, I usually have about 5 minutes to scurry from track 7 to track 3 to board the Düsseldorf-bound train. Since I have been working in Düsseldorf, I have yet to miss this connection, but Wednesday we were delayed by about 4 minutes 30 seconds, and I had a feeling that my luck would be changing. Still, I decided I would give it my best shot, preparing myself at the door of the train as we rolled into Köln, ready for a full blown sprint through the station to the other track. I told myself to try not to knock anyone over, but not with any real conviction.
Well, the train came to a stop, the doors opened, I jumped off the train, ran downstairs into the passenger throughway, then ran upstairs onto the track where my next train would probably be rolling away just as I reached the top of the stairs.
I reached the top of the stairs and almost collided with a group of people who were all standing on the platform. Momentarily confused, I barely had time to move out of the way before several more people (who had just pulled the same trick as me) came rushing onto the platform; all of us desperate to catch the 7.46 to Düsseldorf.
Every person after me had the same expression of confusion and disbelief; there was a different train on the platform, and as we looked about for some answer as to where our train was, I saw a few more (rather slow runners, as it were) huff and puff to the top of the steps, look about with bewilderment, the focus on the sign above the platform, which indicated another train was about to depart.
It is not so unsual for an announcement to come over the PA indicating that a certain train will be departing from a different track. In fact, it happens all the time, just like airplanes departing from different gates at the airport. However, this is all well and good if you were already on the track and heard the announcement. This was not the case for my fellow commuters and me, and as we caught our breath, it started to dawn on all of us that there were a lot of people still on the platform.
Things started to become a little more clear. Something must have happened to the 7.46 train I wanted to take, as I saw too many familiar faces that were already on the platform. After another couple of minutes (during which I had a cigarette and tried to figure out when another train would come by), the platform sign changed, indicating that indeed, the 7.46 train was approximately 10 minutes late.
In short, I had done a whole lot of rushing about for nothing, though I obviously could not have known that ahead of time; the fact that my first train was delayed was in no way related to the tardiness of the second. With a sigh of relief, I realized that order was more or less restored, though I would now be arriving to work a little later than planned.
A few wind sprints in the morning helps to make you awake, so by the time the train arrived (actually 18 minutes delayed), I was pretty well alert. I made my way into the Bistro car, and found an unoccupied table, where I sat down and said "Whew."
Though this next leg of the commute was about 30 minutes, I did not bother to pull out a book. I kind of dreamily looked out the window until I noticed a little commotion at the door from the passenger cabin into the dining area: a little boy was struggling to push the heavy door open. Seconds later, a smaller boy (obviously a little brother) was trying to help, and both of them pushed with all their might, until their mom arrived (mere seconds after that) and helped them enter the bistro.
The bistro is rather small, and all the other tables were occupied, so after a glance around to confirm this, the mother asked if they could join me. I smiled and said of course.
Both boys gave me a polite "hello!" as they squeezed around the table. The mother then grabbed a menu and the three of them began discussing what they wanted for breakfast.
The older boy, who could not have been more than about 7 years old, initially said that he wanted a brotchen, and after some consideration, an apple schorle. The younger brother announced he wanted a croissant, to which the older brother excitedly changed his mind, indicating that that sounded like a better choice, then took it a step further by saying, "a chocolate croissant!"
Naturally, the little brother felt that was in good order, and the mother went over to the counter to get things ordered, leaving the boys and I alone at the table.
They started chatting a bit about the passing countryside with me when I decided to ask why they were not in school. The older boy answered with something I did not quite understand, then went on to proudly state that he was "the only 2nd grader not in school that day."
"And I am the only Kindergartner not in school today!" piped his little brother.
I explained briefly that I was not so fortunate, as I was on my way to work.
Suddenly, the mother returned to the table with the news that there were no croissants (chocolate or otherwise), in fact there was no bread, available. Apparently when the train arrived late in Köln (where they load up the Bistro with food and beverages), none of the breakfast items had made it on to the train. With that, they said goodbye and headed back to their seats.
I noticed that neither of the two boys was particularly disappointed at this news, and they good naturely followed their mother out of the car, leaving me with a smile on my face for no real reason, just a bit of a quite normal event that made for a pleasant journey to Düsseldorf.
For some reason, I smiled at the thought of the encounter a couple more times during the work day, and returned home that evening still with pretty happy thoughts. Random meetings with pleasant people just helps make the world go around. The fact that this happens on the train just makes train travel better.
Later on in the week, I prepared for the arrival of my aunt and uncle (hence the operation "clean up" from the previous weekend) by doing a bit of dusting and quick mopping; my efforts from earlier only needed a bit of touch up. As usual, this involved a few coffees, particularly on Friday morning.
Alas, my espresso machine, my trusty Saeco, has been struggling lately to get coffee into my cup that waits patiently below the spout. Meanwhile, the foaming wand has a habit of leaking water even when the valve is completely closed. Thus, a simple coffee creates a bit of a need to mop up the counter.
So, as I waited for my vistors to arrive, I checked out a few options of espress machines on line, and was a bit surprised that things seem to have changed in the past 5 years. I have always preferred the manual machines. I believe one cannot call themself a barista if they simply press the button that prompts the machine into action. I should have realized this before (since the rest of my life seems to be headed in this direction) but I seem to be part of the dying breed. You know, the type of person that still uses a map instead of a gps system, uses his smart phone as a mobile telephone (without downloading too many apps), and likes to tamp his own coffee into the little thing that you put in your machine to make the espresso.
What I thought would be a quick look on line to identify a replacement machine for the one I have been using these past 5 years, which is basically the same model that I used while I was living in the states, the very one that still sits upstairs above Chris' garage, turned out to be an eyebrow raising "holy crap, can I afford a new machine?" experience.
During the first part of the weekend, after I squeaked another coffee out of my machine early Saturday morning, I visited a local shop to inspect the choices personally; a slight detour from the sight-seeing excursion I was taking my relatives on. I left the store somewhat discouraged, confirming that the machines these days seem to be not only 99% automatic, but expensive as hell.
The weekend itself was absolutely brilliant. It has been some time since I have had visitors, and we enjoyed walking around Frankfurt and the surrounding area Saturday and Sunday.
This morning, I made one last coffee on my dying machine, and decided that after I took my aunt and uncle to the airport, I would spend the rest of the afternoon in hopes of finding a new machine.
I found a store specializing in machines that is not too far away from my neighborhood, and ventured over to take a look around. The saleswoman greeted me, and after I explained my predicament, my wonderful Saeco NON-automatic machine needed to be replaced, she showed me her selection, the cheapest of which cost way more money than I had planned to spend.
Many of the models were quite snazzy, state of the art (and a whole lot of shiny chrome!), but I refuse to pay a month's rent (or two months, in some cases), despite my love of espresso. Then, the woman showed me another machine that was a little closer to my price range. She pointed out some of the features, and did a reasonable job of helping to steer me towards a decision. I thought her comment, "a lot of it depends upon how much espresso you drink," was rather pertinent, as was my response, though I am not sure she understood the word "fuckloads."
In the end, after a few minutes of private consideration (she left me to attend another customer), I motioned that I would go ahead and invest in the new machine. Yes, it was quite a bit more than I had planned to spend, but I now have a nice shiny machine on my counter, that works very very well.
It was kind of the right way for me to go through my let down period this afternoon as my aunt and uncle travlled on to Spain. I made myself a coffee, reflected on the very nice weekend, and did not give too much thought about work.
Maybe I will not be terribly bright eyed and bushy tailed (I have been dying to put that in a blog post) tomorrow morning, but a quick espresso before I head to the train should help get things going. Like a pleasant greeting on a train, an espresso from a brand new machine is just a pretty good thing.
keep the faith
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