During September to November of 2006 I planned, executed and finished a coast to coast USA tour with my music and poetry. It was till this day one of the biggest adventures of my life. In late October I arrived in New York and after having been house and cat sitting for Mr Taylor Mali and his wife I booked a room in a hostel in Jackson Heights, Queens.

One evening a new guest arrived and her name was Kristin. She was speaking to the hostel owner as she came in. It was a clean west coast American accent so you can imagine my surprise when she approached me to say hi and in the cleanest Swedish accent said:

-  Hej, jag hörde att det skulle vara en svensk kille här. (Hi, I heard there was going to be a Swedish guy here).

I burst into laughter by the sudden change of language. I hadn’t heard a word of Swedish in months and there stood this beautiful woman with piercing eyes and burning red hair. And there I stood, an Assyrian immigrant from Sweden who wanted to flee Sweden, suddenly giggling over hearing that language I was supposed to call my own. Right then and there, in this dodgy hostel in the middle of USAs ghettos, it felt like home for a moment. The evening progressed and we stayed up all night talking.

The next day I was going to the supermarket and I asked Kristin if she wanted to come along, and she did. We came in to this very typical huge supermarket and I grabbed a basket. 10 minutes into the shopping I pause for a moment and look at Kristin, look down into my basket and start looking around.

Without realizing it we had put our things in the same basket, together, talking about what cheese we want to eat for breakfast and when I was standing there with a box of tea in my hand, pausing from trying to explain to her why I love earl grey, I realized we were actually planning our meals and activities together. What the hell? We just met!

We both started laughing at this fascinating chain of events but none of us were thrown off, we just smiled at each other and continued our shared grocery shopping, trading stories and calibrating food preferences against each other. When we got home I said I needed to go buy a pair of jeans and she wanted to have a look around the area. Once again she joined me.

Hours later, after having walked through the Indian district, the Italian district and the Arab district, we found ourselves in a clothing store looking for jeans. I spoke to the salesman and he picked out a couple of models in various shapes, sizes and nuances of blue. At one point the salesman referred to Kristin as my girlfriend and as I smiled and looked at her I put together the Supermarket incident and the fact that she was with me buying clothes, pulling, prodding, laughing and joking… I could understand why someone would think we were a couple. Mind you, this was still on the second day that we had met.

The week in Queens turned out to be the closest thing to a relationship I had experienced in years. She worked at the UN headquarters by day and I had poetry and music shows at night. One rainy night when I came home after a show she was sitting in the living room, reading a book. I was in a very bad mood. My performance had been bad, I was soaking wet from the rain, the train was late. Yet, when I opened the door and saw her curled up on the couch, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. I took off my jacket and went to sit next to her. The rain, the bad show, the delayed train… it all went away. I was home, in a dodgy hostel, in a bad part of town, in a strange country, I was home. I realized I had fallen in love.

At the end of that week I was continuing my tour which would take me to Washington DC. I spoke to Kristin about this and asked what her plans were, she started laughing. One day before I was leaving for DC, she had a conference in the same city. I went with her to the train station to say goodbye and we decided to meet in Washington where she would see me perform for the first time.

After my show we went out for a late dinner in an empty Asian restaurant. Again I asked what her plans were and as she told me she was going back to California the next week it was my turn to start laughing. I had a show booked in Baltimore and after that I would also go to California, on the same day as her! This was beginning to sound too strange to be real but we just enjoyed these coincidences and took them for what they were.

The conversation continued and she told me about her future plans, how she had been offered a teaching job in California and as much as I wanted to be realistic about everything, a part of me was thinking “what if she’s the one” and as she continued her story about her teaching plans I started to see all of it slip away. We finished our meal and my friends were waiting for me impatiently outside to drive me home. I kissed Kristin goodbye and we decided to stay in touch and see if we could meet up again in California. The weeks flew pass and while I was in south Cali visiting family and doing my last show in Los Angeles, Kristin was way up north and our paths never crossed.

One day during my last week in the United States, Kristin called me. She said “You’re never going to believe this”. It turned out that 3 days after my departure back home to Stockholm; she had a conference in Stockholm. At this point I was freaking out over the awesomeness of all of this, from Queens, to Washington, to California, to Sweden. She shared my enthusiasm but unlike me, she was plagued with a history of bad relationships and breakups.

We still decided to meet in Stockholm and we spent three wonderful days together. I felt I had to raise the question of where to take it from here. I had nothing keeping me in Sweden and I wouldn’t mind moving to California. She was still stuck on her brain ghosts and we kind of made peace with the idea that we wouldn’t see each other again.

I think it was about a month after that when I received an email from Kristin. We had kept in touch so the email itself wasn’t a surprise, but the content of the email made the whole room spin and I could not believe what I was reading.

She had been offered an amazing job in Geneva, Switzerland and she had decided to take it. All of a sudden, Stockholm VS California (15 hours flight) became Stockholm VS Geneva (2 hours flight). My mind went on autopilot and started going in all types of different directions. A few months later she was in Geneva and I went to see her. It was just like in Queens. Us being together was the most natural thing in the world and I finally started thinking that this might actually lead somewhere. She was unfortunately still stuck with her brain ghosts of relationships passed so despite my several visits, we remained “just friends”.

One day during one of my visits I was sitting on a bench in a park with my laptop, reading the news and responding to an email from a friend I was working with on an article. All of a sudden I see the name of that friend of mine, Patrick, show up and I click on the link to read the story. Everything went quiet, my surroundings darkened and I could hear my heart bang hard in my chest. My friend had been murdered the previous night after a guy wanted to fight him. Being an anti violence activist he refused to fight this guy, who went and got a car and ran over both Patrick and his friend, killing them on impact.

I went back to the email conversation we had.

Me: Hey dude, I’m sitting here on a bench in Geneva. It’s autumn, its sunny, I’m just wearing a thin sweater and loving it.

Patrick: I’m sitting in a rainy Stockholm with relationship problems. But, you always get back on your feet , right?

No, Patrick Bolling Ferrell never made it back up on his feet. He left a big group of friends and a loving family behind and there I was, sitting in Geneva, living a pretend to be real life, lingering in wishes and dreams of a different life. I broke down completely and surrendered  to the realization that I hated my life and if I would have died that day, I would die a miserable man.

Three days later I was still in Geneva, lying in bed with Kristin, hiding from the world, looking for answers, saying how I need to change my life, leave Sweden, realize my dream of that warm country with warm people. The sun, the sea, the tranquility. But I didn’t want to learn a new language! Kristin just listened to my complaints, comforting me in silence, with patience. When she finally broke the silence she said:

- But, what about Malta? It’s warm, close to Sweden, it’s a part of the European Union, they speak English, What about moving to Malta?

It’s weird sometimes how things turn out in life. One minute you’re shopping for jeans in a small store in Jackson heights, Queens, with a stranger who became your best friend overnight. The next minute someone’s life ends and forces you to change yours and start a new one.

Today I retire my torn up jeans, they have served me well. I never saw Kristin again after that time in Geneva. We don’t speak anymore through words but I speak to her in my mind and through my actions everyday as I continue my new life in Malta. And Patrick? I live on everyday knowing that his death meant a new life for me and for this I am eternally grateful.