Coming off the plane we were met by a man carrying a sign with the name 'AXEL'. A small man, heavy with moustache. I walked towards him, half aware that Axel, in his occasional dementia, may have told his driver that my name was also 'Axel'. The man had no English, we had no German. I decided to smile as if he were my greatest friend, then a word came to me. Reeperbahn, I said, Reeperbahn. Ja, ja, he said. We followed him to the Bentley. It was while staring out the window, considering how to explain to Axel that not everyone is called  ' Axel', that Thom delivered his first shock. The driver had opened the ice box, offering us a beer, and Thom was responding in German. Stop the car, I said. The car kept moving. Did I have no control over anything anymore? I asked Thom why he was speaking German. Because I've been learning it, he said. Well, when was that? Why didn't you tell me? I don't know, he said. I wasn't thinking. It's just that I find French so easy that in French lessons I secretly teach myself German. To be honest, German is really easy, too. I think all European languages are just regional variations of each other. Maybe Chinese would be a challenge. He sipped his beer.  The hot stink of the leather hit me. I tried to open a window but couldn't. I swiveled round to Thom: so, what's the driver saying? He says that Axel is very sorry that the beer is warm. It's because the ice box is broken. He said that Axel has been thinking of nothing else all day. So what does beschamt mean? I disctinctly remembered hearing the word beschamt. Mortified, said Thom. He feels mortified about the beer. I felt dizzy, and hurt. I came to Flughafen thinking I was showing Thom the world. Clearly, he was showing it to me. And if he felt any pride in this, he wasn't letting on and I was doubly hurt by that. Did Serena know? It was a ridiculous question. I was casting around to find someone else as stupid as me. I tried to picture it. Was he hiding his German dictionary inside his French dictionary? Yes, that is exactly what I do, he said. Some momentary relief. But then I felt the sting of his isolation. Was this normal schoolboy behaviour? Surely there were pranks, some mischief, someones ears he could ping? Or was that isolation mine, at his age? As we turned into the Reeperbahn, I tried to imagine Thom and a whole gang of his mates, secretly whispering German to each other in their French lessons.