Die Verschwörung des Universums

Seit einigen Tagen versuche ich meine Kollegen davon zu überzeugen, dass wir alle kollektiv zwei Wochen, zumindest jedoch eine, aber das mindestens, Zwangsurlaub verordnet kriegen sollten. Dies würde die schon ins Rollen gekommene Lawine an Katastrophen zwar nicht aufhalten können, nein, das wäre ein gefährlicher Irrglaube. Aber das wäre das Geringste, was wir zur Schadensbegrenzung tun könnten.
Dass eine ungewöhnlich hohe Anzahl unserer sonst wirklich netter Kunden in den letzten Wochen zu den reinsten Bestien mutierten (oder wie Stormy Weathers sagen würde „… aber nur das Wort „Arschloch“ beschreibt es treffend.“), konnte ich ja mit ruhigem Gewissen noch auf den Mond schieben. Mittlerweile nimmt der jedoch schon wieder ab, und immer noch knistert es in der Luft, dass ich Angst habe, dass meine Haare Feuer fangen, von den Funken, die wegen den aufgeladenen Spannungen fliegen. Das Universum ist eindeutig in einer beachtlichen Schieflage. Die einzige vernünftige Erklärung, die ich dafür habe, ist die, dass momentan eine Parallelwelt zu Grunde geht. Eine wahres Trauerspiel, das selbst in unsere Welt einen erheblichen Schaden anrichtet. Mein größtes Vorbild an positiver Lebensauffassung schimpft und beschwert sich über Kleinigkeiten und ich weiß nicht, woran ich noch glauben kann.
Meine gescheite, schilddrüsenunterfunktionierende Freundin kann die Untergang der Parallelwelt-Theorie nachvollziehen. Jedenfalls tut ihr das Chaos sehr gut und sie fühlt sich wach. Sie könnte den Untergang auch als Entstehung einer neuen Parallelwelt interpretieren, aber führt ja nun tatsächlich zu weit. Meine verrückte Freundin nutzt diese mit Wirrung und Verwirrungen gesegnete Zeit, der Menschheit ihren royalen Rang, der unverständlicher Weise über Jahrzehnte mit Füßen getreten worden ist, zu verdeutlichen und wieder besser zu repräsentieren. Alles für die Krone! Scheint erfolgsversprechend zu sein, Eure Majestät. Es gibt auch noch weitaus weniger charmanten Großenwahn gepaart mit Selbstüberschätzung, der nicht auf einen gewöhnlichen Zufall zurückgezogen werden darf. So wie der kleine Notebookverkäufer, der cholerischer Weis einer großen Suchmaschine und im speziellen einer unglückseeligen Mitarbeiterin den Kampf ansagt hat und sein letztes tun wird (sei es innerhalb seiner Dozentenrolle, sei es wenn er seinem Freund, dem einflussreichen Richter nen Kaffee bringt), bis deren Monopol endlich und berechtigter Weise zusammenbricht und dann wieder Gerechtigkeit herrscht. Und soviel Idealismus für einen Rabatt…
Ich muss stark darüber nachdenken, ob ich denn wirklich diesen unleugbar schlechten Zeitpunkt für meine fest geplante Augen-OP nutzen soll. Kommentare wie „Ich bestell schon mal den Hund“, „Okay, ´lil Steve Wonders“ konnte ich vor 14 Tagen noch locker abschütteln. Mittlerweile heften sie sich fest.
Ich habe zwischenzeitlich eingesehen, dass gerade Irland im Epizentrum der moralischen Verwüstung liegen muss, mit starken Ausläufern nach Deutschland. Deswegen habe ich auch beschlossen, meine Ostertage in Frankreich zu verbringen. Ich weiß nicht gewiss, ob ich mich dort in Sicherheit wiegen kann. Die Hoffnung stirbt zuletzt.
Als Lösungsansatz schlage ich vor, den teuflischen Teufelskreis im Atom zu unterbrechen. Spuckt euch der Chipsverkäufer auf die Pommes, tut es ihm gleich und lacht. Beschimpft euch der Smoothie-Verkäufer zu übelst auf polnisch, weil ihr doch zwei Getränke wollt anstatt wie eingangs bestellt nur eins, misshandelt euch die Commerzbank-Angestellte verbal über mehrere E-Mails hinweg, weil ihr es wagt, „relativ unzufrieden“ mit der Kommunikation zu sein, lächelt großmütig und zeigt euch versöhnlich mit –naja- überdurchschnittlichem Kleingeist. Lächeln ist schließlich eine elegante Art, die Zähne zu zeigen. Und schließlich ist es nicht ihre Schuld. Es liegt an der kollabierenden Parallelwelt und der Schieflage des Universums.

Hui Buh ist Pumuckl, zumindest spricht Hans Clarin das Schlossgespenst auf den Europa Hörspielen. Senorita Alveres wird im Duell mit dem Vampir von einem Werwolf angefallen, Tarzan wird mit zunehmender Reife zu Tim, Justus ist und bleibt erfolglos auf Diät. Außerdem habe ich gelernt, dass wer früher stirbt, länger tot ist.

  

Geisterstunden

Ich rief nur einen Geist. Aber er brachte seine Freunde, die mich nun übermannen. Der kleine Geist, den ich normalerweise alleine treffe, ist als solcher schon sehr stark. Er wirft mich kopfüber durch meinen Alltag, wirbelt mich in der Routine wie im Schleudergang und lässt immer nur widerwillig von mir ab. Ich weiß seine Stärke einzuschätzen, ich wage mich immer wieder ins Gefecht, auch wenn ich von vornherein weiß, dass es nur Geschwächte geben kann. Keine Verlierer, denn verlieren kann man nicht, aber verletzen kann man sich. Und wir sind immer verletzt.
Diesmal hat mein bekannter Geist jedoch seine Gefährten mitgebracht, die mich umzingeln, langsam in mein Gehirn kriechen und sich in meinem Inneren ausbreiten. Sie sind süß und lieblich, weil sie verklären und mich träumend machen. Gleichzeitig sind sie gefährlich, machen mich wahnsinnig. Machen mich außer Atem, machen mich wirr, machen mich in meinem Kopf drehend, machen mich gehetzt, getrieben, umtrieben, machen mich im Traum laufend ohne die Beine heben zu können. Ersticken meine Tränen, ersticken sie mit Hoffnungslosigkeit. Verdrängen meinen Ärger, verdrängen ihn mit Selbsthass. Töten meine Unruhe, töten sie mit Gelähmtheit.

Ich male.

Alle Farben stimmen irgendwie.

Die Formen sind schön, die Farben passen zwar nicht zu einander, aber kein aber. Es ist schön.

Ich will ein Baby. Ich will heute ein Baby. Nur heute. Ich will eine Mama sein, nur heute. Nur sofort. Ich will die Münchner Altbauwohnung. Ich will schwanger im Englischen Garten rumlaufen. Nur im Sommer. Nur barfuß. Ich will Sonne, vielleicht auch Sommerregen. Egal, Hauptsache schwanger, hauptsache, hauptsache.

Ich koche.

Ich habe keinen Hunger, ich will einfach nur kochen. Fleisch schneiden, Zwiebel schneiden, Paprika schneiden. Anbraten, erst die Zwiebeln. Und dann alles andere. Alles wird richtig gemacht, es wird lecker sein. Aber ich habe keinen Hunger.

Ich weine. Ich bin so traurig. Weil ich zu essen, aber keinen Hunger habe. Ich koche trotzdem.

Ich male wieder. Und auf einmal ist das Bild nicht mehr schön. Die Formen sind falsch. Die Farben sind zu bunt, und zu einfarbig. Es macht keinen Spaß mehr. So enttäuschend.

Ich will ein Baby, aber nur weil meine Hormone es wollen. Ich will nur den Sommer, die barfüßige Wiese, das Paradies, vielleicht auch Sommerregen. Aber mittlerweile habe ich Hunger.

2007 kann nichts mehr schief gehen. Sogar AIDS haben wir in den Griff gekriegt (gesehen in Jodphur, Indien)

  

This trip that I will tell you about now has taken place from Friday to Thursday over the diwali celebrations. If you see the pictures you will see that it has been gorgeous and a great place to be with cool stuff to see. I have also bought some very cool cloths ( e.g. Diesel jeans for 30 Euros), ate great food, have spend time with awesome people and have experienced loads of love and culture. I learned about Hindu traditions, got oil massages and enjoyed many privileges. This is all highly appreciated.




Still, there has been some very shitty experiences as well. It is already funny, thinking how are the odds that this is all happening in just such little time... Well, read and enjoy:

I went to Chennai for the Diwali festival, which is the festival of lights and comes down to Christmas in our culture. I went to the Indian family of my friend which was a great experience. It was very interesting. The bad thing was that they had a dog in the apartment and I learned the hard way that I am allergic to dog hair. So I felt like I was suffocating for 2 days and could not sleep for 2 nights. I decided to leave to Pondicherry by myself in order to get some rest and relax a little bit. I was supposed to meet up with my friend the next day.

The bus was fine, I even got to nap a little bit on the journey. I had an unpleasant awaking, because a man got sick on the bus. He throw up out of the open door. Unfortunately I sat right behind the door and got some splashes of the puke. It was not too bad, but enough for big grossing out. I arrived in Pondy to find out that due to the diwali weekend rooms were booked out. I managed to get a room in "Mothers guest house", which I can highly dis-recommend. My "private bathroom" was not attached to my room. The room was basically the kitchen cupboards with the mattress. It was the actually the mattrasse and the 4 walls around it. The private bathroom was not equipped with a lockable lock. No need to mention that there was no toilet paper. The private bathroom was used by this entire group of young men who freely walked in and out. Naked guys with only tea towels round their hips were all over the place. This is highly disturbing in a culture where it is even considered rude to sit next to a lady in a public bus, leave alone men walking in the private bathroom.



What happened next was that some guys were sitting in the common area in the guesthouse and started talking to me. I told them about my life, that I was married, that I earned 300 Euros a month and answered all the other questions they asked (customized truely). They got all excited because apparently in Orissa there are no fair people. All wanted to shake my hand, which I thought was still decent. When I wanted to leave, one of the guys got super excited and grabbed me and kissed me. That was one of the most scaring experiences ever. I was just running off, forgot to kick him in the balls or to curse him and found some shelter in the showroom of the shop assistant downstairs. He probably noticed my frightentness and offered me to sit down and read a book. So I did. I sat there, in silence. I did not feel like going anywhere. The boss of the showroom arrived and both of them entertained me. It was so cute. They told me about Kashmir, their home. It was very sweet. A little later I started telling them about the encounter in my guest house. My voice started shaking and the shop assistant yelled at me: "What happened? You don't cry!! You are not a baby! You need to be strong!" OK. fine. I just realized that it was for my own good, not to let myself go. As the fight with the guesthouse owner did not bring any change either. After the sun set, they offered me tea (not earlier, as it was Ramsan or Ramadan) and invited me for dinner the next day.

So by 7 pm, I went upstairs again and there was one of the guys from Orissa waiting, all ashamed, all nervous. He apologized for the behaviour of his friend and told me that the group has kicked him out. Fine. I still locked my room and went to sleep. I was woken by the heavy rain falls during the night.

The next day was pouring cats and dogs. I was supposed to meet my friend at 12 at some restaurant. Her phone did not work. After getting wet exploring Pondicherry (which is a lovely place, well, which has lovely places...), I returned to my save shelter, the show room, and gave some business to them. I did pay a ridiculous amount of money there, but I felt I had to do some sacrifice for my good karma to return (it turned out that I did not sacrifice enough).

I went to the restaurant. The reservations were for an apartment which was not ready before 2 pm. As it was only 10 am I figured I might as well have breakfast there. This Spanish alcoholic sat down next and insisted on paying my bill. I did not let him. He started drinking beer and chatting with another Spanish guy who was on the same bus as I was. With increasing alcohol filling up his blood, he started addressing more and more words to me, Spanish, French, some English. "you mmm haff diss beautttifull lll lite..." and more of that. I put my Ipod on, and he yelled at me I should be talking to him. I politely and quietly let him know that I can take care of my bill, so he should be able to take care of his own entertainment.

By 2 pm the garcon at the restaurant told me that there were no reservations confirmed. By 3 pm my friend hasnt shown up. But it still was raining. I decided to get a massage, found out that the place was closed and went back to the restaurant to find out that I had just missed my friend. It stopped raining. I met up with my friend and her sister. The second choice hotel was fine. It had a double bed, which we shared by the 3 of us. We had another 1 1/2 hours of sight seeing and we made it to "Auroville", which is a town occupied by a sect, founded by "The Mother". What else??



We went to get a message, and afterwards to the dinner in the showroom. That was the nicest thing. You should have met Ahmed and Selim. They were the nicest persons. They served us North Indian dishes and invited some other customers as well, 2 girls from Germany. I will try to hook Ahmed up with some Import-Export people in Dublin. Let me know if you have any suggestions.



The next day I went up early, because the sister has kicked me during her sleep to many times. I felt saver to leave and explore. More rain, obviously. By the time we went to breakfast, the entire sky came down with water and the streets were flooded up to half my calf. We did some more sight seeing, Ashrams. That was quite relaxing, I have to say.

We went on a public bus to go up north again, heading for Mamalapuram. Actually, we went on quite some buses. The problem was that we did not really know if the buses were actually stopping in Mamalapuram or if they would go straight to Chennai. Considering the masses of people in need of transportation and the speed of information flow, we figured our best bet was to squeeze in the bus , secure seats and ask later for the destinations. We did that 3 times. Good exercise, I have to say. :) Finally on the way, it was raining, of course. The landscape was beautiful. It was good that it was raining, because it was nice and cool. We had seats right behind the driver, with a perfect panoramic view.

A few hours later we arrived in Mamalapuram, which is a cute little Indian village with is famous for sea food and the shore temple and the 5 raths (or something). That was pretty cool and surprisingly unadventurous. Pictures explain more than words... I ll set up a webalbum soon.



The next day we got picked up there by the family driver and got chauffeured back to Chennai where we did some shopping. We went to have lunch at Darshinis granmother who told me about Pooja, the daily ceremony to honor the gods. And also due to the multiple reincarnation of Shiva, there are so many of them. Ganesh is the one you address first, the elephant head. Krishna is my favorite. He is the cheeky blue one, that loves all the pleasures in life and goes out to steal the cream and plays tricks and all. :)

Obviously the weather had followed us and it was pouring. Darshinis father guessed that it would be good, as there wont be many 2-wheelers on the road. Pustekuchen. The whole city turned into a mess. Jams were unbelievable. The roads were just filled with water, it seemed like all the gods and their friends were crying. Our time was ticking away to get to the airport in time. We figured that the bridge was blocked, so we ve chosen a different route, via a railway crossing. Unfortunately we could not get through there either. The minutes were just falling down. And we were sitting there, the rivers on the pavement were streaming down, autorikshaws were not starting anymore because they were not equipped for underwater drives. The only thing to hope for was the Arche Noah, but even that did not show up.

We missed our flight, of course. We had to book another one for the next day early morning. Of course no refund for the missed one. We had to go back to the house. By 8.30 pm, the roads were completely blocked. So we were stuck in the car, not a single inch to move forward nor to move back. It was just such a nightmare. I know now how it feels to be on natures mercy. Anyway, by 10 we decided to go to the office of my friends father.

It was just on the other side of the street. We were talking to the night shift and they let us camp in one of the conference rooms. We laid down around midnight and woke up a couple of hours later to go to the airport. I was about to kiss the dirty soil of Hyderabad when we landed. We did get lucky though that we did not go back to the house in Chennai, because Thursday morning the chaos continued. Here is what the Indian news published.

http://www.hindu.com/2006/10/27/stories/2006102706860100.htm

I am done travelling now, at least for this weekend. I want my room service, my TV, i want to watch at least 5 episodes of prison break and order holy Spaghetti Bolognese.

First day in India


I arrived in Hyderabad last night. I had a funny encounter with a woman on the plane. She could not speak English very well, besides ordering apple and organge juice. But she was very interested in me. She broke the ice asking me for my marital status and after pitying me for not being married she told me her husband was Dr. Rao. She wrote down his name on my boarding card and also the URL of the company that he works for. She was a little disappointed because although I was doing my PPT presentation on my laptop I was not helpful enough on going online to check out the website.
After a while she got her own DELL. She managed to open it, but then she asked me for help to turn it on. She pressed the “Gmail” button, but interestingly enough the internet did not work for her either, 2 hours before landing.

Anyway, customs took some time. I was surprised by the airport, as it was quite modern. It had aircon, marble kindish floors, everything looked very neat. I was expecting more developing country style, like staircases instead of escalators, container like arriving halls, crowded chaos… you know, like Dublin. But it was fine.

Unfortunately my luggage did not make it to Hyderabad. Felt like a scum coming back to the apartment, so close to sleep in. But fortunately there were some ironed house keeper’s uniforms on a chair. I borrowed them for a pyjama purpose, it worked quite well 

Today I was hanging out with two American expeds, Joel and Keon. It was fun, going round town with the chauffeur, little shopping and stuff. The handicraft market was very relaxing. People did not force you to buy stuff, you could look around peacefully. I felt very comfortable. I really blended in.

As today is Ghandi’s birthday, it is a bank holiday. I will go to work tomorrow and I am excited.