alice's peephole

Back home I am good at sport. I’m better than most girls at hand-eye coordination, stronger and have more endurance than the majority. There’s also many boys I can beat at a few sports and even my bowling in cricket has been called ‘tricky’. I really love to play – whatever sport it is, it beats any other way to burn calories and get high. But in Germany it’s a whole new ball game. When I went to play football with my classmates, I was even picked after the guy who had not even arrived yet! In all fairness I never was a footballer, so I let myself off the hook for my horribly embarrassing 90 minutes or so. I applauded my stamina for having survived pointlessly chasing after the ball (and thankfully never catching up to it). In the end I did manage to score one goal, but it just didn’t seem so spectacular since no one even tried to get the ball from me, even though I received right in front of the goalpost. I am not sure who was the more surprised when it careened through the keep

The dream. Getting that sweet acceptance to the ONLY sports university in Europe. I tried to capture and preserve in my mind (read my camera) every pore on the face of my loved ones. I celebrated by eating a year’s share of oily, yummy, spicey food (the names of which it is too painful for me to pen here) and downing thums up and old monk at every given opportunity. I shopped and I packed. Ok my mom packed, but I helped! And most of all, I waited. For my visa to arrive. Leaving is overwhelming. But this post isn’t about stating the obvious. What surprised me in fact, was that I felt strangely numb. Except the flood of tears once I checked in, I didn’t quite know what I felt or have the words to express it. And it’s taken me some time to find them. I landed at Frankfurt, and I was cheerfully greeted by an empty hall and even emptier conveyer belt. I did however manage after an hour or so to locate a help desk, and thereafter my luggage – which they had helpfully transpor