Rovereto - München - Berlin - Potsdam
I go for a short morning walk and wish I had more time to go out into the mountains. Having had the opportunity to stay two nights in the same place and work with some of the materials I brought means I need a bit more time to pack than I did on other days. I wonder where Gabriele slept and if I will bump into him again —I did see him for a second time yesterday, after we said goodbye, standing at the entrance of the supermarket, not openly asking for money but being open to gifts of food or otherwise. No trace of him though and no trace of many people in general, too early for most to go to work and too early for cafes to serve customers. I put some sourdough starter in small jars to hand out on my way to the final stop, Potsdam, and feed the remaining starter.
My reserved seat in the train is one of a four-seater with a table in the middle. I install myself and put the jar on the table and immediately get into a conversation when a young man joins us—us meaning the starter and I. He is on his way to Innsbruck, a city that was on my wishlist as well because there are some Smiths living there: people from the Schmiede netwerk I am part of myself (more info about Schmiede here). He is happy to take a little jar with him and when he gets off at the Innsbruck station I take my jars to the restaurant wagon.
When I get back a family of three —a girl and her grandparents— have overtaken the space, not aware that one of the seats they are sitting in is “my” seat. They seem to be a bit uncomfortable at first, having a stranger join them but as always, the sourdough starter is the icebreaker. When it is time to feed it, the girl and her grandmother start wispering and I hear her explain what it is I am doing. I ask her if she makes bread herself and she proudly nodds her head and tells me about her father who used to be the village baker like his father before him. When I offer her a small jar she hesitates but her granddaughter has no doubts. I see her eyes twinkle and I am reminded once more of the approach to life encompassing an openness, curiosity and lightness that is the trademark of children and so often gets lost when growing up.
The train arrives with a delay of over an hour in München but there is enough time to leave some seedbombs just outside the station. Next stop Berlin, the train is spacious and the restaurant wagon has proper tables and benches and a waiter who takes my order after I installed myself there to do some writing and embroidering. It is a warm day and my travel companion is hungry again, and when the train waiter takes his break we chat a bit about working in a train, his way and my way. Whenever we stop, I go out on the platform to leave my traces and when there is a longer stop and I aim for a little plant oasis inbetween the trails, the conductor tells me that on that exact spot, a little christmas tree lived for a while, growing bigger and bigger until it got in the way and then they removed it. “We put it outside the cantine for railway staff in the station” he says, “and it is still there, thriving.” I like his story and he tells me he likes my trailmaking and guerilla gardening action. I give him some seedbomds. “Maybe the christmas tree will like some company”, he says and smiles.
At Berlin Hauptbahnhof I throw the cosmos daydream bombs at the edge of a building site just outside the main entrance. The S-Bahn brings me to Postdam Griebnitzsee where the station is filled with the sounds of swallows, the ceiling is covered in their nests and for a while I admire their amazing flying skills and cheerful presence.
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