The conversations in between
A week off, time on the bikes with Jana, and a visit to friends we used to see much more often.
We were riding to Mellinghausen to see Nicole and her husband, Fritjof. She’s a close friend and a photographer, and for years we shared an office in Hamburg. Now they live in a village in Lower Saxony, south of Bremen. We hadn’t seen Nicole in person for a year or two. I’m not sure exactly how long.
The shared office had been Nicole’s idea. Six photographers, some already friends, others becoming friends there. I went to work knowing I would usually have people around whom I trusted and liked. I could ask someone’s opinion, have a moan, laugh with people, sometimes cry. There was room for whatever else was happening in our lives. When I decided I wanted to ask Jana to marry me, Nicole was the first person I told. She photographed our engagement and our wedding. She’s been there for those big days, and for years of ordinary ones too. I can’t give you one office conversation that explains why she matters so much to me. There were so many of them.
We’d been saying for ages that we’d come and visit. We’d tried to find a date several times, but it had never worked out. August 17 finally worked for all four of us. It was my birthday too, which isn’t especially important to me. Jana and I had a week off, and we wanted to combine time on the bikes together with a visit to our friends.
On our way to Mellinghausen: through Hamburg’s Old Elbe Tunnel. Jana at the Hamburg waterfront, early on August 17. A stop for bread on the way out of Hamburg.
The plan was to ride all the way from Hamburg and stay the night. I wanted time outside and something other than work in my head. Getting out of Hamburg through Harburg gave us something to complain about for a while. The weather did too. Mostly, though, being on the bikes worked the way I’d hoped. Jana and I talked, and for most of the ride work moved out of my head. I don’t remember much of what we said.
After about 50 kilometres, with rain to deal with and my knee starting to hurt, we headed for the station in Tostedt to take a train to Bremen. There was a sprint to catch the train. I was okay with changing the plan, although taking a train is rarely my favourite part of anything. This one came with a man talking to his friend loudly enough for the rest of the carriage to follow along. His subjects ranged from the Bundesliga to Stephen Hawking and whether God exists.
We got back on the bikes in Bremen, with another 55 kilometres of riding to our friends’ place ahead of us. More people, traffic lights and narrow spaces to get through, then we were out in nature again. My knee settled down. Along one road there were so many crows in the fields that we thought of Hitchcock’s The Birds, with storks among them too. The crows mostly just flew slowly out of our way. Later I saw a cornfield and put Jana among the leaves for photographs. The two stretches added up to about 105 kilometres on the bikes, with the train ride in between.
Four storks in one field. There were crows along this road too. Earlier that day: Jana in the cornfield, on the ride to Mellinghausen.
Nicole hugged us when we arrived, and we were so happy to see each other. She sang me a birthday song too. She knows I hate that. I love her for doing it anyway. Being with her felt familiar straight away. It always does. I can tell her what’s going on with me without feeling weird about it. She listens, she understands, and I feel that she’s really there with me. After all that time apart, we were together again, talking as easily as we had in Hamburg.
They showed us around their home. Over the last three years, they’ve converted an old barn on Nicole’s parents’ farm into a place with her photography studio, Fritjof’s little shop and their apartment. Nicole grew up in the village. She and Fritjof had both lived in Hamburg’s St. Pauli neighbourhood for many years before moving here. They’ve made the place beautiful. I was happy for them.
Nicole had baked a cake and I ate three slices after we arrived. I’ve forgotten what kind. Three slices, though, I remember that. Later we had vegan bolognese, then played HITSTER, trying to put songs in order by the year they came out. We talked and laughed a lot. My contribution to placing one song was: “No idea what it is, but it’s shit, and it could be shit from 2000.” No idea whether I got the year right either. We kept playing until about one in the morning, way past our usual bedtime of ten or eleven. We’d been up since around five that morning. Past tired and into stupid.
We had breakfast together the next morning. The evening had felt like our old time together, with no work involved. I work from home now, and sitting here writing about the visit, I keep thinking about how much time we used to have without arranging any of it. That’s what I miss about the office. Nicole was part of an ordinary working day.
We still talk on the phone, on WhatsApp and on video calls, though less often than I’d like. Life gets in the way for both of us. Now we have to find a moment when we’re both available.
Maybe you have someone like Nicole in your life. Someone whose ordinary week you used to be part of. Now you ask how the last few weeks have been, and there’s more to catch up on because you weren’t around for any of it. You can still feel close to them and miss them at the same time.
Nicole is a wonderful person, and she matters a lot to me. I’m happy she and Fritjof feel at home there. I’d like to see them more often.