The rainbow never sets

took Wolfgang and me from Bremen to Bremerhaven. I was able to show Wolfgang my cabin in the Skaubryn and we walked all over the ship. Would he perhaps one day come and visit me in Australia? It would have been wonderful, but he never came. I had said good-bye to Bertha von Guenther that morning. I'll never be able to thank her enough for all her kindness. It was good to have Wolfgang with me to keep me company and to see me off. The Siemerings came when the gangway had already been drawn. So we only shouted our good-byes, but I was glad for Wolfgang to have their support.

The band played a popular farewell tune and at 6.30 pm the SKAUBRYN left the wharf with a lot of hooting and a lot of waving. Good-bye Germany. I had no tear to spill for this country, for it had not been able to provide a Heimat for me. I wept for my family and friends left behind, but Germany? No! To me it seemed narrow and confined, not only physically. It was occupied by four foreign nations, and divided into east and west. A crass materialism had spread, leaving no place for spiritual values. Officialdom was heavy-handed and authoritarian. The individual didn't seem to count. I did not want to be part of such a Germany. Maybe the island continent would offer me a new start in life, where I would feel accepted and valued for who I was, not where I came from or how much money I had. Would the open spaces of the inland of Australia compare with the open spaces of Sapowice? And would the people there be friendly to a stranger, and perhaps allow me to strike new roots in my long search for a Heimat? Only the future could answer that.

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