Reunited in Berlin

BERLIN

The first thing I saw from the tiny airplane window as the plane began descending was the alien shape of nuclear reactors. They were smoking in their offhand welcome, fitting into my idealized notion of the city and its gritty personality. It was a very sunny day, the landscape was grey, and I was trying my best to contain myself. It was probably just the exhaustion and adrenalin that kept me composed. I nearly cried when the flight attendant announced that we were landing, but I kept it in. After seven months of not seeing each other, I was about to be reunited with my boyfriend.

It seemed cute at the time, that we would meet somewhere in the middle of where we both lived, and somewhere in Europe was the obvious choice between Toronto and Dubai.

As the plane landed, I saw in the distance an almost familiar silhouette making itself known, almost like a skinny lowercase “t” but much shorter and fatter around the middle. It was the TV Tower, in Alexanderplatz, the Fernsehturm. Not as tall or impressive, perhaps, but older, and with a different kind of significance to the people it loomed over, than the CN Tower. 

The plane hit the ground, and the tiny window oscillated images of concrete, a few dark green trees, and signage in a language I knew only from memorized Rammstein lyrics. The full reality of the situation struck me then, much like the brutal syncopated beats that would later assail me inside the little dark corners that peppered the streets. I was here. I was in Berlin.

Like an old crush, Berlin is a city that has enthralled me from a young age, brought on by my love of different Berlin based bands and artists. It is a mix of cultures and subcultures, and its openness to receive those with different outlooks and modes of expression was always something I was attracted to. It is an odd city where dance clubs are celebrated as icons of culture, rather than viewed with distrust, and I was excited to partake. I always knew I would go to Berlin at some point in my life, and everything had aligned perfectly to do so. So, I booked the ticket and packed my bags and hoped I hadn’t made a terrible (mostly expensive) mistake. 

My trip began then, walking out onto the tarmac and being assaulted by absolute heat. It was smart of me to decide to visit Berlin during Europe’s record-breaking heat wave that ravaged much of Europe last summer. I was very poorly dressed, wearing a sweater and leggings. It was cold in Canada. It was cold in Dublin; I could see my breath fogging while walking on the tarmac to my transfer flight just two hours prior. But Berlin was burning. It was as if the city greeted me with a sweaty kiss. 

And indeed, Berlin’s Tegel airport was a mess, but this also seemed fit into the city’s aesthetic. It was a bright yellow throughout, with outdated features and a generally unwelcoming feeling that made me feel welcomed all the same. I was shaking from adrenaline and anxiety. I was sweating while waiting for my luggage. My phone was nearly dead. My flight arrived an hour before my boyfriend's flight, so as soon I got my bag, I ran across two terminals to wait for him.

We had joked about how we'd probably fight when we saw each other. Being in a long-distance relationship isn't easy or something you go into lightly. Misunderstandings are easier to come by without body language, or the reassurance of one another's physical presence. Many times, it took its toll and caused drama. But the drama was rooted in the fact that we simply missed each other. 

I saw him through the arrival gate doors walking to his luggage. As he walked through the doors, I think being awake for twenty hours had finally caught up to me and I felt like I was in a dream. We hugged and kissed, and the dreaminess left me, and I knew I was wide awake. We left the airport excitedly recounting our flight experiences. After settling in our hotel, we wandered through the city, and as night fell, we danced in the dark corners I had seen from high above.


Submitted by Kelsey Rivera Medina.

Kelsey Rivera MedinaComment