Arianna Corral

Everyone is strategically standing around the belt: not so close, not so far. For some it’s better at the beginning so it’s a grab-and-go situation; for others, right exactly at the fastest way to the exit, regardless if this means standing on the edge of someone else’s personal space boundary or a corner or in the middle of the hall; and for others, just walking to the opposite side of the crowd makes them feel a little secure. It will come anyway. And if you are lucky enough to stand in front of them like I was, what you get to see is both curious and the other adjective I leave to you (for me it was a little insightful).

The picture looks something like this: everyone’s eyes stare at the little door that will host the suitcase parade, secretly wishing they all had a little bit of Cyclops powers to open it faster. If only! Yes, most of them are checking their phones, but the wait (especially during Christmas season) is as long as looking at water to be boiled: the more you stare, the longer it takes; and sometimes, patience has a limit when you just want to get your things and go home. 

While we all wait, you can hear the indistinct noises of different conversations, maybe a notification from the airport speaker, but nothing special. Until you hear that engine starting. The sound that makes everyone, literally, move forward. All synchronised: heads up. Phones back in the pocket. One step forward. Please let the first luggage be mine! This was a little funny to watch.

It’s kind of like when you play Mario Kart. Or imagine this time it’s a real life Mario Kart. You feel  the weight of your whole body on the car, you feel your feet on the pedals, you feel your hands on the wheel and your fingers holding on tight as if you are about to fly away. You see with the corner of your eye who’s next to you, who’s behind you and most importantly, who’s in front of you. You can breathe the tension. You think of strategies to get by the finish line faster than anyone else, and if it’s as first, then even better. 

No luggages came out and the belt stopped working after 5 seconds.

This made me question about the idiosyncrasy of people. Why we are the way we are. I have to admit (and I say this with no intention to offend anyone) at first I thought: “this is so typical Spanish/Venezuelan people. You wouldn’t see this in Germany”. Then I thought if everyone in this world walks around with a label on their back, maybe without even knowing so. And in that case, do I have one?

In my experience, I have discovered that we are all completely different. We have stereotypes but maybe they are just some sort of guides or maybe they are an unfair characterisation of how some people are. I’ve met Germans who don’t fit in the typical category of a German. Spanish who also seem more Colombians and yes, Germans who are very much like the description you find in the dictionary. So where does that leave us?

I have lived in three countries and met people from everywhere along the way. My two best friends are one from Germany and the other from Argentina. Everyday I learn something new about the people I spend time with and I have to switch off everything I think I know and be on a constant learning mode. 

However, I think sometimes humankind has a problem with the second part of the word. Some people forget about being kind. The world is not just about you or me. It’s about all of us. Idiosyncrasy is a characteristic or a distinctive of an individual. Yes, we are who we are. We were born and raised under different circumstances, but I’m sure we can all be a little more human and a little more kind. Even if our suitcase comes first or last on the belt.

Madrid, 2022

You are getting ready to leave. You go get your jacket, put on your shoes and as soon as you open the door, you have uninvited guests waiting for you on the hall.

At first you don’t see them, but as you walk to the front door through them, a cold breeze goes all over your neck down to your back and as if they were crashing the best party ever, they decide to stick around. 

I guess we all have our fears, our ghosts. I’ve always pictured them like some sort of Dementors that are invisible to people, but are there with you all the time. And I imagined them coming in the most unannounced and unexpected way ever… Maybe that’s why I always have cold hands.

A few of them are my messiest roommates. I have asked them to leave but my Patronus is not strong enough yet. However, there is this one Dementor. He’s been been with me for quite a long time and I admit that I’m afraid that, after so long, this fear can become a truth. A reality.

And a truth spoken by someone else, has another sound, a different wave. And if that person is someone you care about, then it’s like a katana going through your heart. That’s why this hurts way more than when I see my Dementor everyday. 

I guess when you don’t have so many things, it’s easier not to get attached to stuff you don’t own. Makes sense, right? The least you have, the easier it is to adapt to unknown situations. So for example, if you want or have to move, change country or whatever, then you only have to worry about the things that you have. When I moved for the first time, I put an ocean in between my family and the only life I had known and I flew with only two suitcases. Nothing else. 

It’s been 12 and a half years of that.

But what happens when your life changes? At some point, it has to. Of course, we all grow and want different things. I’ve been searching for stability for so long that instead, it has become a shadow that follows me around all day long, every single day. Sometimes, I think it’s just making fun of me, honestly.

In the last three years, a lot has happened. I found a good job and the stability (in the most literal meaning) that I was looking for. But I discovered that stability is not just having a 9 to 5 job and a fixed salary every month. Of course this helps, but stability, actually, has another side: it’s a house that feels like home; it’s friends who like spending time with you and creating memories; it’s time shared with those who live in your heart. Does it make sense? 

As I think I have been slowly ticking a few items on the list to complete the recipe of stability (this feels like it’s taking foreveeeer!) one of the Dementors, grew stronger since last weekend. You see, two weeks ago, my first ever sofa, arrived to my new apartment. It’s a three place sofa but really wide; and because of something I heard that got stuck in my heart, I started thinking what if this is too much of a dream for me? Is this “too big” for me? Not only the sofa, the whole thing…

It’s kind of that feeling when you buy some clothes that you really like, for example, and they turned out to fit a little bit big on you… what would you do? Would you keep them even if they don’t look that bad or would you return them?

My best friend can perfectly see when one of my Dementors is draining me and she can cast her Patronus immediately so I could breathe again. She would probably say that I should do what I want and not listen to anyone. Steffy would say that nothing should matter more than what I think. She would say that this is my “home” and that’s what counts. 

I know she’s right. 

But the Dementor of doubt has been playing in my living room this week and I can’t help to wonder if maybe I was dreaming way beyond my possibilities. Do I actually fit here? I’ve always thought it was alright to aim high enough and always wondered if I could reach there… is it a bad thing?

The truth is that I live alone in what somedays feels like a giant’s castle. My apartment is big, with enough space and perfectly fine for just one. But it’s true that when you start to build your home, especially in a country that’s not yours, you dream of having people around as much as possible. You dream of having a physical space big enough to share with a partner and a perfect excuse to just get together. And that is exactly what I want.

I still have some points on the list waiting to be ticked. But with doubt disorganising my house, I ask myself: if this is too big for me, then what should I aim for? Where am I standing and where should I go? Am I going to have the opportunity to have my own “home”, share it with someone everyday and having friends around pretty often? 

If the answer, dear Universe, is yes, then my last question is: when is it going to be my turn?

I have post-vacation-depression-syndrome.

If this is not a psychological or whatever term already considered by professionals in the matter, maybe I should patent it. Have you suffered from this too?

My symptoms: 

I don’t want to get on the train back. 

I most certainly don’t want to go to work on Monday. 

When I close my eyes, I only see Amsterdam’s Houses. 

I’m thinking about retiring in Amsterdam.

I just want to continue taking pictures. 

I dream about being on holiday forever. 

Do you know if this feeling will go away? 

I really can’t read maps that well; somehow I always get confused. And this is funny because my dad is a pilot and when I was a kid, I remember he would drive anywhere with those big old foldable maps (that people used to put in their back pocket), with all the little blue, red and yellow lines and asked my mum to hold it for him in the passenger seat. No “turn left on the next street” or “recalculating” coming out of that paper… He knew where to go. He was and still is the “map man” to me. 

With Google maps I always have to see where the blue dot points, so I know if I have to keep straight, turn around or go left or right. When I get to a new place, I look like a ballerina spinning to the blue dot’s direction. If my dad would have seen me in Amsterdam, surely he would have laughed. 

Anyway, during these days, the map was just a reference. If it said that I needed 5 minutes walking, I took me around one hour. Why? Well for two reasons mostly:

When you want to cross a street in Amsterdam, you don’t just have to be careful with the cars, but also with the bikes; so crossing the street needed full concentration: you had to look to both sides, see if cars or bikes were coming and calculate whether you had to run or wait for your chance to cross. 4 seconds, 15 seconds, depending on the bikes…

And because you had to look at both sides of the street, I usually found something I wanted to photograph right at the middle or at the end of the opposite direction I had to go. So I just went there.

Eventually, all the spots I wanted to see, using Mr. Google as my guide, turned into a one hour “go around here, look at that there…” that usually made my smart watch a little crazy, too.

In four days, I experienced the best of Amsterdam’s spring unpredictable weather: I had a cloudy, rainy and cold day, wind on my four days there (I was actually happy to have brought my hat with me) and warm sunrays to light up my pictures and make the chase of light way more fun. 

On my last afternoon in Amsterdam, I had the perfect frame: impeccable blue sky and my favourite view looking back at me. I remember standing there, feeling every muscle and bone from my legs down. Like the weight of all the miles I walked started to rest on my heels, my calfs were asking me to sit down for a bit but I just wanted to imprint this view in my memory and in my heart forever.

I stood there for another hour. I didn’t want to leave.

As I was exchanging pictures and impressions with my best friend from my daily expeditions, she said to me: “it sounds like a dream come true”. Buaahh… She nailed it.

1.045 pictures (and videos) between my phone and my camera were made in these four days. And if I had a film camera, I would have taken the exact amount of pictures. I loved discovering through my viewfinder all the beauty that was waving back at me.

Spiders. Oh God… when I see one, my fingers run back to my palm making an immediate fist. A cold air runs through my back, it freezes my feet and makes my jaw so tense, that you can feel all the teeth in the mouth.

I die.

If I see one outside, I avoid it as if it was a huge monster about to devour me. If I have to cross to the other side of the street for my own peace of mind, believe me, I will. 

But let’s not talk about them anymore. This makes me nervous.

I’m afraid of forgetting. 

Of forgetting people, instants, time. Maybe this is why I take pictures. I think photography helps me keep all my memories together; the names on the right faces and the moments in time as if they just happened. 

At home (still haven’t been able to hang them all yet) I have pictures of my family and friends. Even though we live apart from each other, I want to keep them close to me. Seeing their faces, is my instant remedy to the fear of forgetting them. 

Have you ever wondered what happens when you forget someone? Where do these memories go? Or what happens when someone forgets you? I guess I’m also scared of being forgotten. Is that a bad thing? 

You see, when you live alone, a different feeling emerges: the fear of your fears. You are scared that they might come and ring your doorbell (one by one or all at the same time) and want to stay with you. You’re afraid that they might want to walk with you into the kitchen and make dinner with you, sit on the sofa, watch a movie and follow you everywhere. You’re scared that they might want to stay longer than expected.

When you live alone, you have nobody to help you, no one to rescue you from that spider. It’s just you. 

But there’s always another side of the coin. And if you want to see it, the trick is to know that we have a choice. When it comes to fears, you have two options: you put on your armour and fight them, or you put on your running shoes and take the back door. 

So, what is it going to be? 

Truth is that I have many fears. Actually I hate horror movies because I can’t sleep at night. I’m like a little kid.

The day I took this picture, I chose to put on my armour and look eye to eye with my fear of heights. It wasn’t so bad!

The door opens and the restaurant seems quite full. It’s just you standing there. A kind face with a gentle smile comes and asks: “table for one person?” 

The uncomfortable question… 

And the answer: “yes, just me”.

“Right this way”.

My best friend says that she could never go to the movies alone. To me, is eating alone. I’ve done it, of course. You’ve got to eat, right? 

My stomach lets me know that we’ve got to bring him some food, so we find a place close by. The tables around me are alive from all the conversations taking place. An old couple enjoying a pizza together, some work colleagues sharing a laugh from their adventures and even a mum cutting the food for their kids, while their dad pours some water on their drink bottles. 

Everyone has someone to talk to. Everyone is listening or being listened. They smile, laugh and they have fun together. At least I’ve always assumed so. Why wouldn’t they have fun together?

When I see these pictures in front of me, I can’t help to feel a little empty to be sitting there alone. I just want to eat and keep going. I actually confess that more than a few times, I’ve chosen to grab something quick that I can easily eat, rather than to sit at a restaurant alone. I even ended up buying McDonald’s to take away and eat it in the hotel room when I’m traveling. Have you ever done something like that?

Whenever I see someone eating alone, I wonder what is going on with their lives. Maybe I wonder if they feel like I do. I wound’t dare to spontaneously speak to this person or eat together, I’m too shy for that. I don’t know, guess it’s just the feeling to say: “hey, me too”. 

Come to think about it, it’s funny how everyone can have a different feeling for the same thing. I know there’s a lot of people who don’t mind eating alone. Steffy doesn’t, for example. 

Well, now that these words are written and are out of my head, I think maybe we are the way we are. Some of you more extroverted, and others like me, a little more reserved. 

I’ve traveled alone, too. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a matter of choice: you stay home alone too, or you see what you want to see and learn to enjoy your own company. When it comes to eating, I’m still working on that, but the rest I don’t mind so much doing by myself.  

This picture is from Lisbon. My first trip alone back in Easter, 2014. I only ate two times in a restaurant in that trip. 

Believing. 

Sharing and being kind. The world needs more kindness.

Keep eating chocolate when that’s exactly what you want. 

Keep your family close and your friends closer. Don’t let them go.

Keep making mistakes, it’s the only way to learn. 

Keep smiling and laughing, because spreading happiness is all you need.

Keep reading, even when you are tired. The next page is surely worth it! 

Keep your feet on the ground and your Vans on your feet (I don’t take mine off). 

Keep your head up and your back straight, otherwise you’ll have terrible pain.

Keep hoping. 

Wishing. 

Keep always an umbrella in your bag if you live in Germany. 

Keep your heart open, you never know who you are going to meet. 

Keep dreaming.

Living.

Breathing.

Listening.

Keep your promises, people rely on you.

Keep learning.

Walking.

Keep cash in your purse, you never know when you need it.

Keep track of time and don’t waste a single minute.

Keep creating memories with your loved ones.

Just keep going and don’t stop.

Note to self: Read this out loud and also apply to you.

Somewhere in Hamburg. September 2020.

I don’t like to talk about age. To me, age is the sign of time passing by. And time is a big thing for me at the moment.

If anyone would have told me when I was 12 years old, that my life would be as it is now at my age, I wouldn’t have believed it. You see, the generation from the 80’s (yes, I belong to that group…) in majority, grew up thinking or with the mentality that by the time we were all 35 and up, we’ll be married, with children and a house of our own. Well, nothing far more from reality.

The truth is that I moved countries four times looking for stability. That’s not something you can find in the supermarket around the corner. “Oh, I ran out of stability, have to go buy a little bit more and don’t forget the rest from the list”. No, no, I realised is something you build, everyday with your commitment and your actions. 

Yes, I know now that changes take time, but sometimes it just feels so frustrating. Somedays, I think I haven’t accomplished anything, that I’m a total loser. I feel that I’ve tried everything and nothing happened. I even wonder if I have tried my best yet… Other days, I cheer myself up thinking that not everybody moves countries and leaves everything behind. I’ve done it without hesitation, maybe in a reckless kind of way. (Now that I think and say it like this, can’t help but to laugh… Am I that crazy?)

Last week I went to Kontanz, in the south of Germany to spend the day and as I was looking around this cute little book shop, I found this postcard:

It felt like the world was talking to me. 

I like this feeling when I’m about to lose hope, someone or something out of pure magic, just comes up and recharges my batteries. It’s like a hug from a friend just because… What am I doing? Am I doing it right or should I do something else?

But as I had this idea in my head all week, I thought maybe these are not the proper questions. I guess the real ones are: “what do I want and how do I get there?”

Yesterday I saw a reel on Instagram and the music for it was a verse that said: “I think happiness is about letting go of what you thought your life was supposed to be and just embracing where you are now and how special it is”. 

No words needed.

And then it got me thinking. I have to let go of the idea I had when I was 12. I have to let go of all those things that, secretly, I think maybe are holding me back because I can’t see what’s right in front of me. Yes, I’m not married, I don’t have kids and certainly don’t own a house. But I’m on a different journey, I guess. I just hope it takes me on a fun ride and hope that it helps me to keep faith even when everything seems a little dark. 

Note to self: I’ve learnt a lot, including a third language, met incredible people who show me everyday that all of it, all of this, is worth it… So, world, I listen to you: I’ll keep dreaming in the hopes I get there.

You made me laugh everyday. 

We had our own little world and you even had an “angry dance” that made my cheeks hurts so bad. We loved football but we couldn’t watch it together. 

Your call never came.

You said “I love you” first and you didn’t mind holding my sweaty hand wherever we went. I had a special ringtone for you and my colleagues at work imitate the way we spoke on the phone every time you called me. I loved that part of the day.

I waited, but nothing happened.

You introduced me to your family as your girlfriend first and I just remember looking at your blue eyes trying to say: “are you sure?” A week later, at a wedding, I introduced you to my family as my boyfriend.

Nothing at all.

We traveled. We played football together. You were my whole world and I loved you more than anything.

3 years and 6 months together. A lifetime for someone like me.

I hoped that your phone call would have come someday. I hoped that it wouldn’t have been so easy for you to know that I was in the other side of the world, trying to move on and get away from you. I hoped you would have surprised me one day and say the things I would have loved to hear.

I hoped.

But your call never came. 

You never came back for me. 

I still dream about you sometimes. Please, just leave me alone.

I waited and waited but nothing changed.

You actually never said “I want to break up with you”. Instead, you did everything for me to say that. You asked me for time and time went, backwards, slow, like a snail in the mud, making fun of my hours and days until it marked more than two months. When I last saw you, you said: “can I have one more week?”. Coward.

You told me that I was going to be the mother of your children. And I believed that.

Less than a year later, you got married. Such is life.

You broke my heart.

I waited, but you never came back for me.

I like words. I like that you can shape them, mould them and of course, use them. Likewise, I think that words have the power to both, make you happy and/or break your heart; that’s why words should be kind, like a hug when you need one. Whenever I write something to my friends, I hear “oh, Ari and her words…” I always hope it’s a good thing, though. 

Maybe because I’m a slow person, I need my time to think and to find the right words. I’m not trying to justify myself, I know we are all different and well… this is who I am. I guess I’m alright being not the fastest person on earth, but conversely, I think maybe I get to enjoy other things while I’m walking slowly. Perhaps it’s not better or worst, just different.

Maybe that’s why I have my camera with me all the time. I like observing around and I like to see the little things that are not so easy to spot. I like life in colours, the autumn days and the rooftops in Germany. I’m absolutely captivated by their triangle shapes and their cute little colours.

When I first studied Photography, I met all these great documentary masters like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, Walker Evans, Robert Frank, just to name a few, and I remember thinking that maybe I could never reach the level of “speed” these people had. They were fast and really good. But then I met other photographers, other styles and I slowly started finding mine. And I liked every step of the road that led me to here today.

Words and photography go side by side with me. I need my time to find the words I want to say and when it comes to pictures, it’s a little bit the same. It matters (to me, at least) where you stand, what you capture, what you include in the frame and what you choose to leave out. Time. Time to see, to choose, to think. Kind of like with words. 

Now that I think about it, maybe the way I am, is reflected on my pictures. Anyhow, here is a picture from this past autumn here in Germany. I was doing my morning run when I saw this wall, so when my 45 minutes were finished, I walked back to this corner and took this photo. Hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and until next time.

Ari =)