November 27, 2012 by anelim
It has been about 10 weeks since I moved to Berlin. I no longer get lost in the metro. I usually read something on the way out of it, yet I emerge just at the correct exit (one of 8 or 10, depending on whether I’m going to work or home). I cut corners, save seconds, minutes, neurons and heartbeats. I know which metro stations come before mine, in which order, and in what voice the recording will pronounce them. I only notice the new, but no longer the old. The advertisement billboard which changes every Tuesday at the metro stop close to home no longer confuses me or makes me angry. In fact, my eyes appreciate the new image for a fraction of a second. My pulse has blended with the pulse of the metro. I know, most of the time, which part of the huge Alexanderplatz I’m facing and how many degrees I need to turn in order to reach the bus stop. Most of the time, yes. I have a few favourite restaurants, I know in which parts of the journey between home and work I need to be more vigilant. I know at least three places to which I can take a new guest who doesn’t know anything in Berlin. I’ve crossed the wall that made Berlin foreign. Parts of Berlin have turned into home, and home is invisible.