Being on a ferry reminds me of two things; childhood and Berlin. In my childhood, I tried to squeeze in eating (preferably greasy ferry-food), running up and down the halls, and going out on the deck to see the big waves and feel the sea on my face into the often short distances in the ferry. It was all screaming kids, fighting with the brothers and parents with stressed out faces... When I lived in Berlin and sometimes couldn't afford to fly to Denmark, I took the bus. The ferry ride served as a needed bus-break in the middle of the trip, and it was always sunny on these rides. I spent my time writing, looking at drunken middle-aged Swedes and preparing for whatever made me go to Denmark. Those ferry-trips are wrapped up in the golden haze along with all other Berlin memories... Today I was on a ferry again, this time between Aarhus and Copenhagen. The sky was dark and full of rain, there was no way to make out what was sea and what was sky, and there were children screaming and parents with stressed out faces. And I felt strangely comfortable...
No comments:
Post a Comment