The Hamburger appreciates sunshine more than any other and will even fight aggressive winds and subzero temperatures in order to enjoy a healthy serving of sunshine with lunch. I don't blame them. There wasn't a drop of sunlight last week and it had really started to wear on me.
The long journey by train and ferry and then a trudge through sand is worth it on days like this. I order a hot tea at the Strandkiosk and search for a seat amongst a sea of snow-suited toddlers and scantly-clad twenty somethings. The harbor and all it entails, including the ever-vigilant cranes and the looming freighters, once reminded me of what New Jersey looks like from the southern tip of Manhattan and I wanted nothing to do with it. I used to smugly scoff at the Hamburger for her fascination of what I had come to know as the ugly underbelly of industry and the evidence of a grotesque obsession with consumption.
Now I sit here at one moment disgusted by the capacity of human consumption and at the other completely in awe of the great ships and colorful cargo that dwarf me and all the other guests. I walk inside the cafe to warm up and everything outside suddenly goes black. An enormous black freighter is moving up the Elbe and it is so big that I cannot see the top from inside. So, I run outside to make sure the world isn't ending. It wasn't.
No comments:
Post a Comment