Travelling is living

It was a warm and sunny day in July, unusually hot for a summer day in Germany. That was the first time I visited Ulm.
I was 19 years old, a philology student. I decided to apply for a summer job in Germany and spend the summer days by doing something useful for a change. My usual summer would include sprawling on the beach, aiming to get a brownish-gold sun tan, drinking cocktail in one hand and holding a book and pretending to read it in the other.
However, this turned out to be everything but a usual summer. I worked in a restaurant. The first week I was frightened as hell, for until then I wasn't able to compose one German sentence without making at least two grammar errors. I was aware that my parents expected me to return (running) after one week. Nina, who has never set a foot in a kitchen, has all of a sudden started washing dishes and preparing food 5 days a week.
Yet somehow, that spoiled brad managed to do her job without any major difficulties. I experienced the good old German discipline and I took with me a few kitchen tricks back at home. What I brought and shared with the colleagues was my singing affinity and the inability to stop singing while working. That is how I acquired the nickname “Singvogel”.
The first week was magical, as it is the first flight of a bird. I discovered that I was working and living in an enchanting city divided in two parts – new town and old town – by one of the most famous and praised rivers – the great Danube. Along the cobbled paving of the city stretched half-timbered houses and picturesque footbridges.
As wonderful as the buildings were, nothing compared to the Lutheran church located in the main city square – the Ulmer Münster. If you climb the 768 stairs and reach the top level of the church, you will be awarded with a magnificent panoramic view of Ulm and you will surely fall in love with the city all over again.
Next to the church was the best ice-cream parlor in the whole city, where a tall, black-haired, young and arrogantly handsome boy kept the smiling faces of the people throughout the whole summer.
He made my face smiling too. The magic of the city danced together with our movements and Danube witnessed our first kiss.
After three months of absence, I returned to my nest. The glow of my eyes spoke words and pictures.
As for the people I left behind… my German colleagues would often tease me: “Go bird, fly with the wind. But, who’s gonna sing for us after you’re gone??”