Waiting for the train

I walked up to the kiosk on Selly Oak train station to get tickets for the train, a return to Birmingham New Street, with a student railcard. 1.25. I recognised the vendor, I'd seen him many times: middle aged man, shaved bold, with Kippah.
"So where did you get these glasses then?", he asks.
I am wearing my bright red glasses.
"Birmingham, Oasis market." He likes them. Says he has the same but he uses them for night driving, and the feew times he got pulled over for driving with sunglasses in the dark, policemen actually end up  agreeing with him. We talk for a few minutes, and I couldn't have enjoyed our small talk more- talking with strangers always give me such pleasure- we talk about age and how he is often mistaken to be the son of his brother, who is in fact 10 years younger than Bret, that is his name, I see it on his name tag. No such chance with me, I jest, my sister is indeed 12 years younger than me, just 10.
The next thing he said, floored me. He said, if he still had all his kids, the oldest would be 31 and the youngest-10. He doesn't. His wife and 5 of his kids were killed by Christian Orthodox and he's buried them in Jerusalem.  More people come into the train station now and they need his attention, to get their tickets. Arguably, a perfect time, as I realise I don't know what to say but "I am so sorry". He says such is life. Or the worst timing- he has just told his life-story to a stranger he may remember he has sold tickets to a few times. I enter the train, confused and touched by a story told by a stranger.
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The second time I talk to Bret was about a month after the first one, I've recently retured from Sophia where I spent Easter. I see him, he is in the kiosk, looking at his phone. He says hi, I smile. I suggest I go to the vending machine, if he is busy- the station is empty anyway. He puts the phone away and waves me to come over. He notices my hair colour is different, which is more than I can say about some of my close friends, he likes the red. Thank you. What Bret was looking at, on his phone, was a photo of his youngest, a 10 year old girl. He shows me a picture of her in a dress, preparation for a wedding. It is the only time he can get her to wear a dress, otherwise she prefers dungarees. I, again, compare her to my sister, who my father is worried about, because she hangs out too much with the boys and the short hair and constant trousers don't help. I have dungarees too and I've never been a girly girl. Hopefully, he won't be too bothered if his girl turns out to be a lesbian, I jokingly think to myself.

These conversations have made a difference to me. They are honest. Conversations with strangers are genuine and powerful, and to me, it seems sad that most of us avoid to share a moment with a stranger, out of some misunderstood social programming that strangers are bad. After all, strangers have the best candy.

Little Pleasures

I've just come back home.
Tonight I went out with a friend, we played pool, I won. We then went to his place to watch Cincinatti Kid, Steve McQueen was indeed kind of awesome. On the way home I noticed it was snowing! Yes, snowing, in april, in Sophia. So curious! And in two months it will be so hot your brains will melt. I walked on the way home, I took advantage of the modernisation of technology by putting my music on loudspeaker, listened to it and hummed. Already climbing the 4 floors of my building, I kep singing and dancing, thinking of the beatiful and curious snow.
I just wanted to share the little beauties of life, the ones we almost  miss. I hope you don't miss them.

On the train

At the time of writing this, I am on the top bed of a sleeping compartment on a train from Belgrade to Sophia. In the same compartment are two girls, Jessica and Jacqueline, two young Americans from Michigan. I first saw them in the full outfit of a travelling American, backpacks and all, trying to get a ticket for the train, conversing in English with a middle aged Serbian lady. The man on the train had told them  they only needed to pay 15 euro for a ticket, but this lady said 80. Of course, they were pissed off with the prices, with not being able to communicate well enough with the lady, and as I later found out, with not having had a shower in 2 days. I was behind them, I offered my help, which they happily accepted. In some made up Bulgarian-Serbian language, I spoke to the train conductor, who said only 7 euro each were needed for an upgrade, all good. To show their gratitude, and maybe because we all figured out that 3 girls is better and “safer” than two (or one, in my case) so we decided to share a 6-people compartment.

Conversation went on for half an hour, they are travelling across Europe, thanks to a Europass, because one of them is starting a post-grad degree and the other one is starting “a real job”, as they  classified it. They liked Switzerland best, weren’t impressed due to tiredness with the Netherlands, and were looking forward to Germany. They thought Prague was magical and I suggested they went to see the Baltics, if they want more fairytale-like experiences, Venice was too touristy but Verona was absolutely astounding. (the word they actually used was “awesome”, the accent you can imagine for yourself) They were unsure about Sophia and how long they’d stay there, they were “playing it by ear”. Being a true Sophianite myself, needless to say I tried to convince them to spend  at least a night there, see the nightlife, enjoy low prices and good food. They were more excited about Greece, but, if my few experiences with Greek tourism are anything to judge by, they’ve got another thing coming. Conversation died out and one is now falling asleep, though my typing is probably not helping, and the other is reading a book on what I suspect is a Kindle.

I read my book for a bit, a lovely fascinating thing called “Quirkology”, where Richard Wiseman is exploring “the curious science of everyday lives”. A study he talks about suggests that luck is not as inexplicable as we may think. It is not even random, but every person makes his or her luck- people who are more closed, introverted and pessimistic take fewer opportunities, meet fewer people and thus miss out on many opportunities that more sociable optimistic and trusting people do not miss out on. I put my book aside and started writing this, because I realised I was in an indicative situation at that same moment. There is nothing extraordinary in my story. But because I spoke to these girls and offered my questionable skills as an interpreter, I have met new people, learned a bit about the story of people who I’ll probably never see again and we exchanged experienced that, who knows!, can be helpful one day soon. At the very least, I have some company and I feel safer in this train tonight.

There is no reason not to speak to strangers more often. You will always benefit from a chance encounter- it can be a thing as insignificant as some help with a ticket and teaching someone how to say “thank you” in Serbian (Hvála!) or it could be as life-changing as later being introduced to your future partner by that person you first met unexpectedly. But that’s another story. 

I imagine Jacqueline would prefer it if I stopped typing, so she could sleep.

Airport Experiences

I was at an airport on my way home. In front of me I saw an elderly couple, who were just about to give their boarding passes to be inspected by the security guard. Even while they were doing so, they held hands. 

Passengers continued caterpillar-ing towards security check, which is the most annoying bit of airports, without a doubt. My eyes wandered around, as I slowly tagged along, and fell at the holding hands of the same couple. They hadn’t let go and felt a compulsion to be as close to each other, regardless of the external influences, queues, Bush’s security measures, screaming kids. I don’t know where they were going, who they were, but for the 15 minutes during which they were a part of my life, they made me wish that I could be this in love at their age. Love is a beautiful thing, but sadly we need a reminder that it isn’t a privilege of the young but a gift and it comes in all shapes or forms.

Hugging trees

If I told you right now that I hugged trees this weekend, most of you wouldn't have peeled off the floor laughing by the time I finish writing the article.

As the term ended and all dissertations were submitted, I decided to take a long weekend and stay at my partner's house for a deserved rest. The weather was lovely, this is England we're talking about, so I suggested taking a walk. Strike one. The only walk I tend to take is the 40 meters between my door step and the pub.

It was refreshing to see nature, play with the shapes and greens, climb trees, hold hands, laugh, kiss and feel the sun stroke my face. The birds were chirping, jolly and free.

On the way back, we saw a field, just grass, nobody there. I felt so strangely draw to it, so we went in, I took off my shoes, and walked barefoot on the slightly cold grass. Maybe you know from experience, nothing is as freeing as feeling your toes touch the grass. I jumped around, screamed, danced, did cartwheels, shook my whole body, ran. Then I lied on the ground, I felt like all my negative energy was slowly absorbed, I became calmer than I have ever been in my life. Not ecstatic. No. Just serene, relaxed, at peace and aware of every being around me.

My partner has a lovely backyard, so when we went home, I went out and felt the desire to hug every tree, to achnowledge its existence and thank it for being there. The beauty of nature, its overwhelming presence, its patience and perfect balance was too much to comprehend, I had tears in my eyes.

I wonder, what was in that apple juice that I had, just before we left the house to take that walk?

I've finished writing. Are you still laughing?

Conversations

I remember very clearly when I came out to my parents as bisexual. Admittedly, I put it in different words, I was in a heterosexual relationship at the time and was on the phone. Yet I was still unsure what to expect.It all went surprisingly well, I think. And here is another such story.

My friend, S, was on her way to meeting me when she overheard a conversation. She shared it with me and since then, the story has stayed with me, so I wanted to share it.

A girl and a boy were walking in front of her, let's call them Emily and Tom. Tom had always been afraid of coming out to his parents. Mind you, this is liberal England we're talking about. This Tom had recently been dating someone and had broken up with him, let's call him Stephan. Stephan was still very much in love with Tom and wanted to keep him in his life, whatever the cost. So, he made a low desperate move. He blackmailed Tom to stay with him, else he would tell Tom's parents that he was gay. Tom was afraid and considered staying with Stephan but of course he soon realised the inevitability facing him. Tom decided, despire his great fear, to speak to his parents- not only did he not want to stay with Stephan, he also wanted to be free of any power Stephan may have over him, for holding his secret. He spoke to his parents and, to his great surprise, they accepted him without judgement and criticism. This is the story Tom told his friend Emily, while my friend S was walking to meet me.

I simply find it somewhat of a mood-lifter to know that Tom's life changed for the better and he now feels accepted and calmer, and it all came out of unrequited love and blackmail. I am sure many of you may know people who have been through it, have been through coming out themselves or are yet to take such a step. Maybe your family disapproves of the sexuality or the race or age of your partner. Everyone has a different story, but should you need advice, I only have one advice to give- be honest and respectful to yourself and the people who you love. Tell them the truth, stand your ground and show respect for them- you are having a hard time, but they may be experiencing just as many difficulties- to accept you, to accept themselves, to accept that they are not as open minded as they thought... Hopefully, (yes, it's a cliché and you know what is coming) at the end of it you will find yourself stronger, freer and closer to your family

It is your life, you only have one of it and, in my opinion, living a  lie is not living at all.

Chocolate

Just before Christmas I applied for a job at chocolate company Green and Black's. The job was one of a taste assistant with elements of participating in a marketing campaign for new flavours. I was thrilled at the prospect to work for a fairtrade company, whose products I loved and who would give me the opportunity to be included in a marketing campaign as well as chocolate tasting!

A few days ago I saw that an envelope with my name and a Green and Black's sticker had arrived. I curiously opened it and a few seconds later I realised what it was.

This, literally, was the sweetest rejection I've received in my life.

They informed me that, regretably, my job application could not be processed any further as they had received more than 3000 applications for the job, but they appreciated the effort I'd put into the application and sincerely hoped I would enjoy the enclosed: 2 chocolate bars- one milk and one dark chocolate.

These are still on my desk, where I look at them and have small bites of tasty rejection....