Borrowing windows

If you have never lost yourself in staring through a train window in the countryside of Europe, you are surely missing out on a beautiful part of life. The more train windows I lose myself in, the more of myself I actually find. The Regional Trains of your university's state in Germany are included in your semester transportation ticket so I highly recommend jumping on one every few weeks to watch the countryside pass by; this is a spectacular time to process your time abroad, recall fond memories, and lay out the goals of your next months or years as a cultural explorer.

Gena and I at the Regiobahn (Regional Train)
(Bietigheim Bissingen, Germany)

There is by no means a limit to the things that can be accomplished on a train. I carry my computer, books, homework and even sometimes my art supplies so that I can fully benefit from the people and landscape surrounding me. Just a few moments ago, a dog wandered over to me and woke me up with a gentle poke with his nose; I had no idea that there was a dog on board, but he took it upon himself to curl up at my feet and beg for cuddles. The owner, just a seat away, apologized in German and attempted to reclaim her pooch, but he had other ideas. It was only after several moments of petting and cooing that I realized this sweet, gentle dog was maimed and only had one eye remaining. I then thought, how many people refuse him love just as we tend to shy away from those in the same conditions in the streets who approach us for help? This thought then caused me to turn my eyes to the window, my own desk of self-discovery, in order to roll the idea through my figurative fingers. How easily we ignore those in need who are just in front of us! How quickly we judge those who may not be as blessed or tended to as we are! This word, ignore, generally holds a negative connotation.

I often describe the German people as having their own path of concern and they will warm up to you if your path happens to cross theirs, but they rarely stray or break from this patten (as Germans tend to be fairly patterned people). In describing it this way, the negativity seems to break away. However, as I look around the seats surrounding me, I see 10 young people my age or younger, each and every one attached to some sort of electronic device and no socialization is taking place. Granted, it's midday on a Saturday and perhaps Friday took its festive toll on the naïve souls of the young, but I would expect more joy among such blessed adolescents! We have privileges coming out of our ears in Germany; the country, government and citizens have provided for every possible need imaginable except Ranch dressing, yet the people wander with somber or expressionless faces.

Flowering train tracks in the spring
(Hannover, Germany)

Someone on a local bus through the Czech Republic in summer 2011 pointed out to me that “the war wasn't that long ago for some people. If you had a look on your face, a smile, people thought you knew something. You could be put on a 'list' with your family and associates. Hide your thoughts and expressions; it's for safety!” Perhaps this is a similar sentiment for citizens of Germany? Perhaps I'm just accustomed to the sometimes shallow mask of customer service and friendliness that Americans wear (the “Hi! How are you?” without further inquiry)? Perhaps there is a cultural gap in addition to the history of Europe that drives this mystery deeper , but I sure feel like the most expressive person around here. I suppose, though, that I am starting to fit in and learn the values of contemplative silence as I borrow a window wherever I go.