Stuttgart

It started with an email a few months ago inviting me to a one-month journalists' exchange program to Germany.

Being someone who had grown up absorbed in the dark history of the country, I must confess I was a little disappointed that the invitation hadn't come from the more romantic France, Italy or Spain. Crinking my nose a little, I only jumped at the opportunity because I perceived it as an entry into Europe- a continent in which I had always dreamed of spending a long time. I immediately extended my trip by a week and decided to go to Paris.

As all the formalities surrounding the project started becoming more concrete and my dream started inching closer, I found myself thinking more about my eight days in Paris than my month in Stuttgart. After years of learning French and gradually falling in love with everything French, the thought of going to Paris preoccupied me. I tried hard but found it quite difficult to conjure up a positive image of the present Germany contrary to the one I had formed from all the years of equating every German with a Nazi. So naive was this image, that despite being someone who loved to learn languages, I never considered learning German. To me, the language sounded crude and had direct associations with Adolf Hitler. Despite being an ardent lover of Rilke and Kafka, Wim Wenders and Hermann Hesse, it didn't help redeem this image. Germany never featured on my list of countries to visit in Europe.

Now, I am sitting at Stuttgart airport waiting for my flight to Paris. My heart is heavy and saying good bye to this city hurts me more than I can imagine. Even though I am someone who can cry at the drop of a hat, the tears in my eyes, as I write this, surprise me. I didn't even realize when the transition happened, when I fell in love with Germany, her language and her people. I don't even remember when I started feeling at home in this small, quiet region of Stuttgart, so different from my home in the crowded city of Mumbai. After having spent a long weekend in Berlin, getting back to my cozy hotel room in Stuttgart felt like I was getting back home. But I ask myself, would this country have succeeded in charming me if it weren't for its people?

It was exactly four weeks ago that I landed at this airport. I vividly remember my anxiety when I got out of the flight and cast a quick look at this city. The cold air hit me and only made me more nervous. I kept hoping fervently that the coldness was not reflected in people’s hearts. My prayers were to be answered very soon. Anja met me there and assured me things would be fine. It took me quite long for me to realize that I made friends for life.

At first, the city was a big maze to me and getting to places was like playing a game of treasure hunt. The streets looked like they were winding in the same direction, the trams were all confusing, the language could not be understood, the food appeared, smelled and tasted similar. But soon, I learned the ropes. I began to distinguish between Degerloch and Heslach, the trains going toward Vaihingen and Felbach. I could tell between a good Maultaschen and a bad one. It didn’t matter then that I was clumsy using the fork and knife. Before I knew it, I could eat use the tools quite effectively. Picking up words and phrases like Seggel, Käpsele, Schafseggel and Halt dei Lapp became an exercise that provided immense joy, to me and to the listeners. Repeating them over and over as the situation permitted became a ritual. But when I used the words in Berlin, people gave me quizzical looks instead of bursting into peals of laughter as I was accustomed to. It was there that I realized that the words were Swabian, and not understood or used elsewhere in Germany. Like much else that the Swabians are proud of.

I felt the warmth wherever I went. I was bombarded repeatedly with questions regarding Mumbai, the interest that people showed in getting to know me and my culture touched me immensely. Spending a whole month in a city of which I knew nothing more than Mercedes-Benz or the railway station controversy, opened a whole new world to me. At the end of the stay, I realised that my apprehension was baseless. Although I had to often put in a great deal of effort fighting the cold on some days, and reaching somewhere on time on others, I almost found a home here in Stuttgart. The streets that seemed very quiet to me initially began talking to me. I started feeling comfortable and at home. I realised I formed relationships with Stuttgart and its people that would last me a lifetime.

One month is over and I am at the same airport. It seems much friendlier than it did earlier. Anja is there, like she was the last time. With her, are three others. I look at them and wonder when I will see them again. They were responsible for making my stay memorable and my farewell moving. On my flight to Paris, I strain my neck and squint my eyes out the window from my aisle seat. I see the city go farther and farther away from me. The vineyards become tinier, the homes with red roofs more distant. I keep looking out until a thick blanket of clouds emerges and blocks my vision completely. The greyish white clouds become the final barrier between this city I had come to adore and me. But the pleasant memories continue to soar.

This exchange between Anja and me could not have gone further than this. We developed our own vocabulary and invented the Germandische. Next time I visit Europe, Germany will be the first stopover. And by then, hopefully, I will have mastered the language.