Library Eats Time

I had been worried about spending six days in a row in the library,
sitting on my own in the study area. I'm pretty much a people person,
and a can't-keep-my-bum-on-a-chair-for-longer-than-an-hour girl. I
thought that the silence would get to me, and make me feel lonely, push
me into the pits of despair but oh, how I was wrong. It should be
noted, never ever underestimate the library.

I wandered into a room with a small floor area, but the ceiling was
extremely high. It was so far away that windows had to be opened with a
special winch in the corner of the room itself.
I looked at the four square tables, a study area for eight people. I
sat at one and spread out the books I had found earlier. I picked up
the one about Germany and the Rhineland and began to read.

Loreley is a siren, with blond hair and her voice is soft as silk. Many
a sailor has died because she&;#8230;.

'Excuse me'.
I realised I was being whispered to.
'Hello', I said just as quietly.
'Are you going to Germany?', the girl was in her early twenties, with
dark hair, and pearls in her ears. She sat next to a Japanese girl of
the same age, with a Japenese text in her hand.
I proceeded to tell her of my coming adventure in Europe, the reason
why I was in the library studying. She told me that she was from Munich
and was here in my small town for three weeks on a student exchange.
The other girl told me all about Japan and how she was also on the
student exchange programme.

There was a laugh from another table; it was a laugh crossed between
that of Mutley from Wacky Races and Homer Simpson, if that is even
possible. I looked to see what was amusing him. He was reading the
financial times. I told myself he was probably looking at the ftse
figures; perhaps he had made some money. Lucky man.

I began to read again,

Many a sailor died because she sat on a rock over the Rhine River and
sang. Her beautiful voice enticed unfortunate sailors to the rocks and
ultimately their deaths. Further down the river is
the&;#8230;.

I looked up again and the foreign students sitting opposite me had
left. In their place was a middle-aged man, unshaven, old clothes, but
clean and tidy.
'Are you going abroad?'
People were very eager to start a conversation in this library. I was
somewhat relieved.
'Can you send me a postcard?' asked the man.
I was surprised at this request. It also struck me as odd but the man
was scribbling down his name and address on a piece of paper before I
could say anything. He handed me the address and I put it in a safe
place. I decided that this man was lonely and perhaps I probably would
send him a postcard.

The town of St. Goar&;#8230;

Another laugh echoed around the room. This time it came from a lady in
her fifties. I looked to see what she was reading, and received another
shock. She was also reading the financial times. Was there something
about this paper I didn't know about? I decided to take a little stroll
around the study area to find out, and as I walked behind the laughing
lady I tried to be inconspicuous while I took a peak at what she was
reading. It definitely was not the ftse figures. I must have lingered
by the lady for longer than I imagined. The stares from the people
browsing the books on the shelves were becoming obvious now, or perhaps
they too were puzzled by the amusement she got from her reading
material and were admiring me for my bravery. Nope, they were not
staring inquisitively, but scornfully. There was only one thing for it,
I grabbed my book and purse, and made a break for the
photocopier.

I had nearly finished photocopying the article when there was a
friendly tap on my shoulder. It was the man who had asked me to send
him a postcard.
'So when do you go?' he asked.
'Three weeks', I said.
'So, can I take you out to dinner and perhaps buy you a few drinks?' he
asked.
This man was thirty years my senior, he had only spoken to me once and
he wanted to take me out to dinner! The look on my face must have told
him what I was thinking.
'No', I said at the same time he said,
'I take it you're busy'.
I could tell that he had had a lot of rejections with the same old
answer, I'm busy. I felt sorry for him.

This time I made a break for it back to my desk and I began to read a
different chapter.

Munich, the capital of Bavaria&;#8230;

Two more girls, also around twenty years old, came giggling into the
room. They sat down opposite me. To my relief the man who had asked me
out to dinner had left.
'And then we'll go here. You're not claustrophobic are you?' said one
girl to the other, whilst showing her something in a book on Egypt.
Everyone in this town seems to have the travel bug.
'Hmmm. Why?' asked the other girl.
The first girl pointed to the book.
'I'll be okay. I can't wait to go'.
'Hey, that's Arabic writing', said the first girl again. 'My Dad can
speak Arabic. He lived in Libya for five years'.

I wanted to ask them about their trip, but I had to read my book.

Munich, the capital of Bavaria

Someone walked past me to get to another table. He smelt like he hadn't
washed for a month.

Then a mobile phone rang, and the man whose phone it was went to answer
it.
'Can you please turn that phone off', boomed the librarian, and when I
say boomed I mean boomed. Her voice echoed around the high
ceiling.

Munich, the capital of Bavaria

The phone at the Librarian's desk rang.
'Oh, Hi Jan', her voice kept echoing, on and on and on.
'I'm glad you rang. I need to know what time to meet you next
week'.
Two seconds of silence.
'I might be a little late', she continued.
I tried to read again.

Munich&;#8230;

'Okay, let's meet then instead'.
I hadn't heard anyone talk louder than the librarian before.

And then I realised that I had been wrong about the library. It wasn't
lonely; it was a fun place to be. A place to meet people and chat, but
for now, I found myself longing for the silence I had so dreaded when I
had first walked into this building. I got up to leave. I would borrow
the books I wanted and take them home, but next week, well, I might
just come here to hang out.