Everything was planned and on time, as it's usually with me. However I left few pajamas in the closet and I had to take them in the last moment to the hand. There was no time to pack them since taxi was already waiting. I hardly managed to take my 30-kg-weight - as I found out later at the airport – suitcase to the ground floor, was sweating a lot. I could still feel the presence of Hana and Gianluca, my flatmates, when was leaving the flat, even though they left it days before me. I could smell marihuana or maybe I imagined it. It was hot outside though it was still dark. The taxi fare was really hard for me, especially when we reached Zavente and I could see the Brussels from above, thousands of tiny blinking lights that cities are made of at nights. I will never forget the view. There was one more particularly difficult moment. The song "Happy Birthday" by Stevie Wonder was being played on the radio. It was the song that I gave Jan on CD for his birthday. In that moment I was asking - rather myself than God since I don't dare to talk to Him because of my doubts considering His nature and His existence - why He was making it even harder for me than it's already been. What was the purpose of it? And of course the rational part of myself has immediately signalized that no Gad had anything to do with it, it was simple coincidence, simple even though so inconvenient for me.
It's stared to dawn when we arrived to the airport. The taxi company has assured me they have special price of fares to the airport. However the driver asked me to pay as for regular one. He thought probably I'm a tourist who doesn't know a thing. It reminded me many people which I've met in EP in those five months, including my friend, and which often didn't thing I know a thing about anything. How could I since I didn't look as they did, didn't behave as they did, didn't like what they did or did't wear as they did. Weirdo is weirdo. Anyway, I paid the driver as much as he wanted and I didn't say a thing about it. I was not capable of heaving conversation and demanding what was mine. I just wanted that horrible journey, the most horrible journey in my life and one of the most horrible experience generally, to be over.
I knew I had too heavy luggage and would have to pay extra for it. We were talking about in the office, sharing tips how to avoid that payment. First rule was to pick up a male flight attendant since guys are more understanding. Our second advise was to make jokes about me being so small and try to make excuse of it for my suitcase being so big. I've ignored all of it. I didn't have the clear had at all and didn't feel like trying that. So I choose the women even though the guy was sitting next to her. I was wearing sun glasses and was trying not to look in their direction because I didn't want them to see me crying. She said my suitcase was overweight and I would have to pay extra for it. I didn't try even to change her mind. I said really rude way something like: "OK, if I have to pay, I will pay, what else can I do!". She stared to talk to her colleague. They were speaking Dutch. I could only understand that she was asking him where I have to go to make payment. They were talking a lot and suddenly she said: "That's ok sir, you can go". I didn't show my surprise, I didn't even thank the proper way. I just felt relief it was over and I could go further.
I am like Freud who used to arrive to railway stations half an hour before train departure. I was two hours before my plane departure, I had to wait a lot. I wanted to send one more e-mail to Jan, the last one, but for the reason that stays unclear to me till today, the wi-fi in my laptop didn't work.
When I arrived at the gate there were already people sitting around, I remember especially a group of young people and a noun. I took a chair in the corner, I wanted to be separated from all of them. I was crying, all the time. I wanted to do something...
Jaana told me like million times I can always call her, day or night. I decided to make use of her kindness. I called her, it was about seven o'clock, I was sure she was still sleeping. I told her that how hard it was for me and asked her to tell Jan I loved him and I said I would be back. I couldn't talk. I was sobbing so much that I couldn't take a breath. It was odd. There was almost complete silence nearby, I was crying noiselessly but when I tried to talk to her some strange and very loud sound mixed with a sob came out from my mouth. I remember me thinking that it had to seem quite funny for the people around. However I didn't hear anyone laughing which made the whole situation even more tragic for me.
I remember I wouldn't mind my plane to crash. However I was worried about the people that were aboard with me. I saw the EP from the plane. I felt relatively safe. There was no one sitting next to me, and the third sit in the row was taken by young, handsome, elegant Flemish guy. He was discrete. I was perceiving him as a wall separating me from the others. I couldn't stop crying. I turned my face toward the window and allow myself to do it from time to time. I remember the flight attendant. She was like good auntie, I remember the real concern in her eyes and her authentic smile. When I refused to eat she asked me if I'm sure with that smile look.
Waiting for the luggage on Warsaw airport I realized I didn't cry anymore. I was wondering why it suddenly stopped. It was 10:00 am, I woke up at 4:00 am, I thought that maybe I cried everything that was to cry. But the other scenario seemed more likely to me. I simply found myself in very hostile environment called Poland and I unconsciously knew I have to be brave to survive. It was almost like animal instinct.
My journey from Warsaw to Toruń was terrible with that big suitcase of mine. Warsaw, capital city, and there are nowhere any elevators or escalators. Only by that one can easily and painfully realize he's not in Belgium anymore.
I mentioned the song in taxi earlier. In the intercity train that I took I could find the annual magazine and that particular edition it was about Belgium. Everything seemed to be against me. I called Marta, the message I left on her voicemail was in English. I had no intentions to speak Polish again in this sad country. It's sad indeed. I had change of trains. The railway station I changed the trains at beared no resemblance to the Belgium or German ones. It was dirty, ugly, ruined. And above that ruin there was a sign that the renovation of it was founded by EU. What renovation? One could take it as grotesque joke if not the fact that he is condemned to live here. Such perspective eliminates all humor of it.
The journey was long because Polish trains are slow. I arrived to Toruń at 4:00 pm. When I took a cap I felt like tourist and I felt still rich. Everything was strange to me. I've met three people I know on my way to hall. I didn't want that, I couldn't deal with them, I was wreck.
My agonia has begun.
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