Blind date
Frankfurt, Germany
I AM EXPERIENCING what it’s like to be blind at the Dialog Museum in Frankfurt, Germany. Interactive exhibits in the lobby test my senses before my dark tour begins. How good are my perceptions of smell, hearing, touch? I sniff an opening in a wall, listen with headphones on my ears, feel by placing my hands into a dark slot. I shake rattles, trying to count the number of stones I hear bouncing around inside. My senses are evaluated. My sense of smell- terrible. Hearing- not bad. Touch- pretty good.
Next I sit in a soft beanbag chair in a dark room and listen to music that I feel swirl and spin throughout my body. It is a strange, enveloping sensation I have never felt before.
The tour I am taking with 5 other people is in complete and total darkness. We are led by a blind guide, a patient man whose face I will never see. Each of us is given a long cane which proves to be a huge assist and surprisingly easy to use. It’s very lightweight and I sweep it adeptly in front of me, back and forth, side to side, my cane becoming my shield, my safety net, protection from a world of hazards and pitfalls I cannot see.
The tour site features various realistic sections. We maneuver through a park. I touch bushes and grass. I walk across a suspension bridge, the feel of a rough wooden railing in my hand, the sound of rushing water in my ears. I enter an apartment and identify a chair, a desk, a computer, dishes on a table. I wait at a corner to cross a busy street, the sound of traffic whizzing by, the beep beep beep of the pedestrian crossing signal my indication that I can safely proceed. I board a tram and find an unoccupied seat.
The tour site features various realistic sections. We maneuver through a park. I touch bushes and grass. I walk across a suspension bridge, the feel of a rough wooden railing in my hand, the sound of rushing water in my ears. I enter an apartment and identify a chair, a desk, a computer, dishes on a table. I wait at a corner to cross a busy street, the sound of traffic whizzing by, the beep beep beep of the pedestrian crossing signal my indication that I can safely proceed. I board a tram and find an unoccupied seat.
The tour I am taking with 5 other people is in complete and total darkness. We are led by a blind guide, a patient man whose face I will never see. Each of us is given a long cane which proves to be a huge assist and surprisingly easy to use. It’s very lightweight and I sweep it adeptly in front of me, back and forth, side to side, my cane becoming my shield, my safety net, protection from a world of hazards and pitfalls I cannot see.
The group gets off the tram and next we stop in the Dunkel (Dark) Bar. We order and pay for an actual drink. I have gluhwein, warm mulled wine served in a tin mug. I carefully carry my drink to a table, find a seat and sit down to discuss the experience with the others. All this is done in absolute darkness. I have just spent time in a world I never knew I’d visit. It is unbelievable.
Strangely, I continually saw flashing colors of brilliant blue and green as I walked around in utter, profound darkness.
The tour site features various realistic sections. We maneuver through a park. I touch bushes and grass. I walk across a suspension bridge, the feel of a rough wooden railing in my hand, the sound of rushing water in my ears. I enter an apartment and identify a chair, a desk, a computer, dishes on a table. I wait at a corner to cross a busy street, the sound of traffic whizzing by, the beep beep beep of the pedestrian crossing signal my indication that I can safely proceed. I board a tram and find an unoccupied seat.
