The Subway

Here in Smalltown, Iowa, when people refer to the subway, why, they most definitely mean Subway, the restaurant.

The sandwich shop, offering a low-fat meal of yummy meats and breads is a favorite among many. Subway, the "biggest sandwich chain in the world," according to their German website, has indeed hit many other parts of the world. Just be careful when ordering a six-inch sub in Germany. It's more like 15-centimeters. Or, fancy a foot long? Try 30-centimeters.

No, I'm not trying to be a walking advertisement for the sandwich joint. I'm actually talking about the real subway.

When I was in Chicago a week ago, I rode the "L" train with Ali and Alessandra en route downtown for the Grant Park concert again. From their home, it was quite a distance, but made for a fun game of "musical laps" with Alessandra clambering about before being locked in by her mother's grip.

Riding the subway, or more appropriately, the U-Bahn, in Berlin, used to be a daily routine for me. First, however, to get to the subway from my apartment in Neukölln to the Hermannstraße stop was a 10-minute, never-dull, walk. (Read: Saw rat on a leash pulled by an old man and rat as a pet around the neck of a punk, saw Turks almost slaughter Germans with a long döner carving knife after some major road rage, saw a strange lady bent over in house coat with a hand broom, sweeping the section of busy sidewalk below her apartment as her mother yammered from the window above what leaves or cigarette butts she was missing...etc.)

As I walked past the same Döner Kebab shop everyday on the way to the U-Bahn station, watching the same Turks shaving meat off the lamb skewer in their walk-up window, I would descend the stairs deep underground to where the air was always cool but stale. Usually, in typical Heidi fashion, I would be running late for whatever rehearsal or lesson was on the schedule that day. That meant in winter I would suddenly become over-heated from my down coat which felt great outside, but was indeed too much insulation inside after the hurried walk to the U-Bahn.

So, I'd unzip my coat, sweating, and check the status of the Bahn on the digital sign, just hoping it was down to a minute or two wait. Heaven forbid the sign would be flashing, indicating the train had arrived and subsequently left without me. That would mean that I would have to watch, in disappointment, as the tail lights disappeared around the bend, knowing I might possibly have to wait another 4 to 10 minutes for the next train.

Once I was happily (or impatiently) sitting inside the Bahn, however, I'd sit back and suss out the scene. I never grew tired of observing the variety of people in public transportation. During the late mornings, on my way to the conservatory for a lesson or practice session, there would often just be unemployed folks, or women with their upright grocery pull-carts sitting quietly, looking bored. Or maybe a bohemian-type mother with her baby wrapped tightly around her torso in a colorful blanket. Later in the afternoon, energetic kids and teenagers would get on in groups after school, gathering around each other in a loud gaggle, looking like they had all borrowed similar teeny-bopper clothes from each others' closets.

In the evenings, the U-8 would be packed full of people going home, often carrying bulging grocery bags from Plus or a 12-roll package of toilet paper under their arm. I usually ended up riding home slightly later in the evening, after practicing, bible study, or a cocktail in the city with a friend. Therefore I'd miss dinner rush, but the times I made it home early meant sqeezing in with the crowds, hoping to find a free seat, but mostly standing by the doors, packed down as well with my oboe backpack and my own groceries.

The U-8 going south is not known for being a line which attracts tourists or wealthier types, so the punks generally didn't beg there. However, that also meant we weren't usually treated to the busking musicians much, either. Truth be told, I wasn't always excited to take the U-8, myself, but it was the most direct route to and from school. Often in the evenings, though, when I wasn't clock-watching and the weather was nice, I would take the time to enjoy the ride more by opting to take the above-ground trains. I never grew bored watching the interesting city of Berlin pass by me, especially with the backdrop of a colorful sky from the setting sun.

How one watches people in the subway is also sort of an art form. Instead of staring at people directly (not that it stops some people), there is a subway trick many people use to discreetly people-watch. It is to simply watch others in the reflection of the window. With the lights of the train bright against the dark underground, the window reflection acts similarly to a mirror. It's a great way to appear lost in thought, but actually be well-aware of your surroundings. This only works, however, until the person you are watching, perhaps sitting across from you, happens to catch your eye in the reflection, causing both parties to look away quickly!

Bethany in Hamburg has started a new blog labeled Subway Sightings. She's sneakily snapping shots of the strange or typical subway happenings and it's a great look at life underground.