Getting too much help on the way to work.
So… I managed to get off the bus at the wrong stop on my way to work today. Classic me reading books in the bus, and these bone conduction headphones are not doing miracles if you are not paying any attention to the environment. Anyway, “ah nice, here we go again, a walk in the chaos of Berlin…”
I take about two steps when a German woman asks me (in German) if I need help. My German is terrible, but I understood enough to know she was being kind, not pushy or grabbing, so I thought: why not, let’s go for it.
I should also mention: I was coming straight from the gym, wearing my absolutely not-Bank-employee clothes, I change when I arrive at the office. So honestly, I don’t blame her for being skeptical later when I said “I am going to Deutsche Bank, I am working there.” We walk together and she actually knows how to guide well. Then she says something I don’t understand… until I catch the words “mein Bruder ist blind,” which probably means something like “my brother is also blind.” Ah, okay — that explains why she was good at assisting. Already feeling optimistic.
Now we get close to the office… and here comes the fun part. The building I work in has no Deutsche Bank sign on it. The tall building right next to it does have the sign, but my building doesn’t.
So with my broken German I try: “There are two Deutsche Banks here… one big, one small. I go to the small one.” She immediately: “No, no, no. Only one Deutsche Bank. The next one is 2 km away.”
And honestly — how do you argue with that? With my German? I don’t think so 😂 So… I just accepted the extra walk to the wrong building.
We go inside, and she asks if I need the ATM. I’m like: “No, no, thank you, I’m good.” She goes: “Okay, then the cashier!” Alright… let’s go to the cashier then.
She leaves, and the woman at the desk asks me: “What do you need?” Me: “If I tell you that I wanted the other Deutsche Bank building, but the person helping me didn’t believe me, will you believe me?” She laughed and brought me to the correct building.
How do you deal with people who think they know exactly where you want to go? Most of the time, I just thank them and head my own way the moment it becomes clear they do not get it. But sometimes, like today, you end up being guided into a small side-quest.
Still, I always try to be kind. Maybe next time that person will help someone else who really needs it, and I don’t want to be the reason they hesitate.
The Forbidden Chocolatebite 🍫😂
I was at the age when I had way too many pimples, and the doctor told my mother that I shouldn’t eat chocolate. Well, let me tell you something that might not surprise you at all, that was definitely not my favorite piece of medical advice.
At home, we had a chocolate shelf in the fridge, a shelf that was clearly governed by some mysterious laws of nature because somehow it always emptied itself. And if you asked anyone in the family who ate the chocolate, it was never them. I’m convinced now that it must have been a tiny black hole living in our fridge, making the chocolate disappear. I obviously had nothing to do with this, Right? 😇
But let me tell you what happened one time when I admit I was tempted by the forbidden treasure.
Someone rang the doorbell, my mother went to open the door, and that was my golden opportunity. I opened the fridge fast, grabbed whatever was in the forbidden shelf, and ran to the safety of my room to enjoy the stolen goods.
I jumped on my bed and opened the package of happiness, my mouth already watering at the thought of the brown gold melting gently on my tongue.
I took the first bite of what felt like perfectly shaped chocolate cubes... And the experience was awful .
Turns out, I had just stolen — and bitten into — a vegetable stock cube my grandmother had placed there for cooking. Salty, bitter, confusing. Basically the opposite of joy.
One would expect that after this incident, I’d have learned not to visit the forbidden shelf again. But no, no, no, I simply developed better classification techniques, A true innovator in chocolate acquisition.
Did you ever think you were about to eat something amazing and ended up biting into something that should not be eaten ? And most importantly: did you have a technique for stealing chocolate when sighted people are not looking? 😄
How a Chessboard Became my ticket to social and academic life
Twenty-five years ago, my father, who is also blind, gave me a gift that would change my life forever. At the time, I had no idea how much impact this small wooden box would have on me.
It was a tactile chessboard , designed for blind players. Each square has a small hole, and every chess piece has a pin on the bottom so it stays securely in place even when a blind player touches the pieces to check their location. The black pieces have a nail on top to distinguish them from the white ones, and the black squares are slightly raised so you can feel the structure of the entire board by touch.
As a five-year-old, I loved discovering all these details. I’d spend hours setting up the pieces, moving them around in random battles, fascinated by the countless possibilities. That wasn’t enough for my curious five-year-old self. And nobody in my family knew how to teach me more.
One sunny Saturday morning, my father took me to the local chess club where many kids my age were learning to play. But how would I participate in the lessons and puzzles? How would I play with the other kids? How could I join tournaments? My father didn’t know either — but he said, “Let’s try. There’s nothing to lose.” Chessboards are labeled with coordinates — columns from a to h and rows from 1 to 8 . This system is perfect for blind players because you can talk about the game entirely through words. Someone can just tell you where the pieces are, and you immediately have the full picture of the board in your mind.
That’s what I learned on my very first day. My teacher told me: “Make the chessboard your home — don’t just memorize the coordinates, feel it and make it your own.” And that’s exactly what I did, excited to finally have a game I could play with everyone.
The next Saturday, I ran into the club, bumped into a desk (ignored the pain), and proudly told the teacher, “I know the chessboard!” Of course, I didn’t. Following the lessons was hard. The teacher tried to help, but the pace was too fast for me, and sometimes other kids just showed moves on the demonstration board without saying the coordinates — so I had no idea what was happening.
Was it easy? No. Was it worth it? One hundred percent. I had found a new community!sighted people who shared the same passion. We traveled across the country for tournaments, celebrated our victories, and cried over our losses. Chess taught me to take responsibility: when you win, it’s because of your brilliance; when you lose, it’s because of your mistakes. There’s no one to hide behind — and that’s a powerful lesson for every kid.
Chess also helped me develop a strong sense of spatial awareness and geometry, skills I later used while studying physics. But most importantly, it helped me make friends, learn how to socialize, and move confidently in the sighted world.
Over time, I had the chance to represent my country in international championships. There, I met blind players from all over the world and learned about accessibility in education and new career opportunities for blind people in science and technology.
Without chess in my like I would have studied something completely different in the university,as back then, everyone in my home country told me that studying physics as a blind person was impossible. Without talking to students from Germany that I met through blind chess tournaments, I would not have been able to convince anyone that technical studies were possible.
Chess was my way of escaping to a space where blindness didn’t matter. I’d love to hear what games, hobbies, or passions have done that for you.
Twenty-five years and a PhD in physics later, I still have that same chessboard. The pieces are broken from the countless times I dropped them, but their spirit lives on, reminding me of every battle fought and lesson learned.
They taught me to fight for every move, to accept defeat with grace, and to always get ready for the next challenge because accessibility challenges will always come.