"Even though I’ve lived here for 15 years, I’m still officially an "Ausländerin" (a foreigner, and a female one at that ) so I’m not allowed to vote," says a Canadian teacher living in "a small town in Germany" (shades of John Le Carre?) Reading her blog, Mausi, I was tempted to say I know that feeling too, an Indian in Singapore, a stranger in a foreign land like Lee Hazelwood but with no Nancy Sinatra to take me by the hand! Ah, what a song that was — smoky siren purring with raspy tough guy, "A wandering man… she called me Sand".
Lucky my wife doesn’t read this blog or I would be getting an earful — in an international phone call, no less — just what did I mean by that?
I keep telling her I blog to stay away from bookshops and record stores and save it all for her — that she is my one and only even though we live almost four hours apart straight as the Airbus flies (from Singapore to Calcutta, now Kolkata). And, deep in her heart, she knows we are for keeps. But what’s the point in getting married if you don’t occasionally read the riot act to your hubby?
What the heck, I started by writing about being a stranger in a foreign land with no one to take me by the hand — and the missus snuck in! "Out of sight, out of mind" just isn’t true of us. This john is engaged. Or does the sign on the airliner toilet door say, "Occupied"? I will get a chance to refresh my memory soon.
"Give me a ticket for an aeroplane.
Ain’t got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone,
I’m a going home,
My baby just wrote me a letter."
Yes, we will be meeting again. Not this week or next week or the week after — but soon.
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Hurray! I can’t remember how long I’ve been reading your blog, but I kow it’s been way too long since you’ve seen your family.