CAKE | 02 — Swimming

The thing that blew me away was how blue the water in the local swimming pool in Germany was. Or rather the reason for it. Its interior was painted blue. Whoever came up with this idea was brilliant, I thought. When my aunt and uncle who had moved to Germany were praising their new country, they never failed to mention the clear blue water in the public pools. The water in the only pool near our Polish home town where my father once took me was anything but. The rec center was still brand new but already hideous. Public pools in Poland were a rare sight. Ours was a grotesque concrete square with a hole inside. The water was eerily beige and freezing. Nobody thought of painting the inside blue, I suppose.

In 1988 my family - my mom, my sister and I - finally traveled to Germany, land of blue pools. And Milka chocolates and gummy bears and shiny white ballerina slippers that I wore at my Holy Communion. These were some of the things that arrived in my grandma’s many and monstrous care packages. She immigrated to Germany in the early 1980s. I was told we'd be spending the summer with her. I don't really remember how I felt about it. I was excited, I guess. Though when I saw my mom stuffing my winter jacket into one of our suitcases I worried summers in Germany were chilly. Would we be even able to go swimming? She maintained I'd be glad to have it once we were there. Mom also insisted on me saying good bye to my best friend and invited her over just for that. I found the whole thing awfully formal. S and I stood awkwardly in the hallway with my mom watching us from the kitchen. We shook hands and solemnly said "Good Bye" — and that was that. "See you in the fall!" was the last thing I heard from S as she ran down the stairs waving. 

I didn't know back then that mom planned on staying in Germany and applying for asylum. My father would follow a year or so later. I didn't know I'd never see S or any of my other friends again (as so many Poles S moved to England once it was legal to leave and she remained there as far as I know). Only a couple of weeks after we had arrived at my grandma's apartment did mom tell me that we would not go back home. I don't remember what exactly it was she said but I know she didn't ask me if I'd like to stay. I was to start school in the fall. My older sister knew we wouldn't go back. Mom and B had secretly taken German classes months before our departure. Nobody was to know as we might have not been granted travel visas. I was ten that summer and could not speak any German except for sparkasse, of all words. Grandma and I used to pass a bank on our way to the supermarket and that's how it stuck. Naturally, this word would not be helpful in any of my social interactions in fourth grade.

Immigration is a tricky thing. It not only took away my friends but after many strenuous years it tore our family apart. We were never as close again as we were before moving. Everybody was struggling for herself. Grandma died only ten years later. But Germany opened possibilities I would have never had in Poland. It made me self-reliant. I turned out to be the one taking care of things since I learned to speak German the quickest. Calling the landlord about the broken radiator or the finance department about the tax return or talking to teachers about my grades. But all this left me with a constant feeling of displacement. Wherever I go, I am walking a tight rope. Wondering if I misunderstood something, if I didn't prepare well enough or simply missed a cue. I have always felt like an imposter. Surely someday someone will find out. And yet, I feel happiest when moving and immersing myself in new cultures and stuffing my face with new foods and learning new things. Always seeking the difficult. Slowly I am getting a hang of that immigrant thing. The only thing I have no interest in are swimming pools. I’d choose the sea over a pool any day. If you want to swim in open water you first have to fight the waves as the ocean tries to spit you back out. And once you make it to the placid part you can take in its seemingly infinite size. You can sense the Delphian depth around you as your legs tread below the surface. Your body floats in the dark water as if it was suspended in mid air. As if any second gravity could pull you down and you'd drop to the very bottom. You’re holding on to nothing. Water is rising and receding around your chest, splashing your face, the wind is drowning out sounds coming from the shore. Definitely worth the endeavour.