One day we were making a day trip to some nearby salines. You could make guided boat trips through the salines and we got our tickets and waited in front of the little house for our boat to leave.
Waiting in front of the house, sitting on a little bench was a mother with her two daughters. They also were German, although I don't know exactly how we found out. I guess it was just the usual hearing your own language in a foreign country things that occasionally draws us tourists together.
One of the girls was my age the other one a little younger. When my mom tells the story of how Kathring and I met she always says: 'They didn't talk for a minute. Actually they pretty much only exchanged their addresses.'
That's half true. I got her address first. What made me do it? I have no idea, really. We didn't know each other, we really hadn't talked for more than a few minutes, but it was enough for me to decide to write her address down on a postcard that I had with me. With two bears on the front. I may still have it somewhere, Kathrin's address written in big girly handwriting.
Then our boats arrived. They were on another boat, one that left a little bit earlier but was in view all the time during the trip. I don't remember much of the actual salines. As far as I know it was pretty boring and not really worth the money. It was salt.
When we got back to solid ground Kathrin and her family was waiting for us. She had decided she wanted to get my address, too and write it down.
I even remember part of the dialogue. I was telling her the name of my street (which was a little strange, I admit) and she asked 'New word?'
'What?' I said.
'New word?'
I had no idea what she was talking about. Somehow I was wondering if she was asking me if that was a new word for her. Well how was I supposed to know?
She only wanted to know if the name of street was one long word or two separate ones, but it took me some time to figure that out.
Then we got back to our tents.
I received my first postcard from Kathrin shortly after we got home. They were staying in France longer than we were, and she wrote me a postcard from whereever they were.
It took us about five letters back and forth to find out that we were born on the same day. We are 19 hours and 51 minutes apart, born on the same day, Kathrin in early morning, I shortly after the evening news.
We both took piano lessons for year. We both started and stopped learning the clarinet. We both loved Disney comics.
Now, of course there are things that we don't have in common, but there are more things that we share. My father used to remark that we were together we could spend hours sitting in my room without talking. Both of us doing something separately, but none of us bored with the other.
Eventually and strangely enough I think it coincides with the coming up of email the frequent exchange of letters ceased a little. After high school, she went to Portugal for half a year, then she moved to Cologne because of university. I haven't seen her as often as I thought I might after she moved here, but then again it's really not the point.
There are those friends with whom it doesn't matter for how long you haven't seen them or even talked to them. Somewhen they ring you up and ask if you'd like to meet them and of course you do, and when you do it's like nothing has changed. Sure, your life has changed a bit and hers, too. But I haven't and she hasn't. Of all friendships these are the best. Because they make you feel safe.
Last summer she wrote a mail asking me if I would like to come with her to the Simon & Garfunkel reunion tour. Yes! I mean yes, yes, YES! She got the tickets and we shared that event together. Some weeks later I met her for Starbucks coffee and cake and a few weeks later she went off to Paris where she will be for another few months studying abroad.
I just recently got a long email from her, sent to all her friends, telling us about life in Paris.
Which reminds me. I gotta write her back.
