the old man in the train

(yes, i know the cbox is gone. no idea why and i forgot my log-in details so i'll set up a new one soon)

went to heidelberg today for a day trip. to meet teddy, the two exchange students who recently arrived and shouheng my junior, who incidentally also just arrived. on the way to heidelberg on an 8:30am train, i met an old man. white-haired and about 70, he looked slightly helpless (or maybe i just like to go around offering help) standing at the ticketing machine, so i approached him. after confirming that he's alright, he asked me where i was heading. turns out we were going in the same direction, and being alone (and not enjoying loneliness very much) he invited me to join him on this trip. mitfahren as he said. he found out that i didn't bring any food or water (typically me..) and insisted that i should have a share of what he prepared.

and so we boarded the train. it was a two-and-a-half hour ride, and we chatted for two and a half hours. within this timespan i heard his entire life story - i must have talked to him more than i've ever spoken to some of my classmates or uni friends (can i even call them friends?). turns out he'd worked in nuclear plants as a safety technician, 40 years in the same company, travelling all over europe inspecting them. after chernobyl, the german public lost faith in nuclear plants, almost immediately afterwards, 40 of his colleagues were dismissed. but no, he wasn't asked to leave. but he figured, why not cash in now and get the compensation (a six-digit sum, no less). and so, with that amount and his monthly pension, he's living more comfortably than most others.

he also told me about his family. his three children, daughter- and son-in-laws (past and present), three grandchildren. showed me pictures of everyone, the filipino daughter-in-law with her pretty children, the american soldier who got his daughter pregnant.. his wife, and then his dance partners - he was travelling from bad kissingen (a famous kurort in my region) after having celebrated fasching there, going dancing every evening. it's not just pictures - he also brings around some letters, newspaper cuttings, bits and pieces of his life. even a tuft of hair sent to him by a certain dance partner. i wondered what makes you lug your life memories with you all around. if it comes naturally with age. does one become more melancholic and sentimental when one stops working? when one knows that more than half of his life is over?

and throughout the journey he fed me well. an apple, a slice of bread, chocolate pudding (even with a clean spoon!) and chocs. does one develop a tendency to want to take care of people from a certain age?

and his hobbies, cycling (three or four hours at a go, up and down slopes - and he is 68. we should be ashamed of ourselves) and dancing. he spoke about dancing with different partners - mostly widows, people who need company and who just need a listening ear. just like himself, telling a stranger about their lives - at least he's listening, and at least i'm listening. sometimes he meets people from his city of birth too, recognisable by their accents. one particular lady was from mannheim (a city nearby), she was 10 when the bombs fell (the word he used was Bombenhagel) and destroyed her home. she and others occupying the blocks of apartments in the same area were resettled somewhere in bayern. this is a reminder, really, that we should be more thankful than we are that we don't live in an area ravaged by war.

strange encounter to say the least, but it really made me think about lots of stuff during the journey. the journey back was as contrasting as it could be. sitting alone staring at my own reflection in the glass window. when will i crave company so much that i will talk to the friendly youngster taking the same route as i am?