Evening on the Haidplatz: Theo

This happened on the same day as the unicycle event, but I didn't get a chance to write about both yesterday. If you don't want just a nice little encounter story, don't bother reading.

I got home by bus at around 16:30. I was really hungry, but it was too early to eat any sort of dinner. So I had a very small bowl of müsli and then headed out to the Haidplatz again to practice poi. I go outside on the street to practice very often because 1) there is plenty of room and what I'm swinging won't hit a ceiling. 2) I have no full-length mirror in my room, so being the clever, resourceful little thing that I am, I stand in front of dark shop windows outside and use the reflections to practice form.

Towards the end of about 1.5 hours later, I noticed an old gentleman standing a ways behind me in the reflection. This is nothing new, since people often pause for a moment out of sheer, momentary, "What the..." when they pass by. However, he lingered for a while, as the occasionally on-looker does. When I finally stopped briefly to take a break, I heard a single applause behind me, and I turned to see him grinning and clapping his hands. I thanked him, because you always acknowledge your audience. It doesn't matter how badly you think you might have done.

Juggling/skill toys are natural conversation starters, so it's exactly what happened. He asked me about what I was doing, and I explained poi, its Maori origins, etc. He told me he was overall impressed with how graceful it looks. (Let's ignore the fact that while practicing, I usually smack myself with the poi numerous times every minute).

He was genuinely interested, but big drops of rain suddenly started falling, to the point of being too heavy to ignore. We both agreed to dart inside somewhere, and he led us to the Goldenes Kreuz Café just a few steps away. (Such a coincidence -- Do you remember Herr Beckers?) He asked if I'd like a coffee, and he waved it off and insisted on treating me when I told him I hadn't brought my money with me. I took a tea instead since I don't drink coffee.

We continued talking, and I spent an evening in great conversation. The old gentleman's name is Theo, and he even insisted on "Sie können mir Du sagen" right off the bat. (For those who don't speak German, "du" is the familiar form of You, which was odd to me in this case because I'm not used to saying "du" with someone 40-ish years my elder. I mean, you wouldn't say, "Hey, 'sup?" to your grandfather).

The cafe was unfortunately closing soon afterward, but the rain stopped and he suggested continuing conversation on a walk to the Danube. It was nice outside, and we would have been kicked out soon anyway.

We walked down to Steinerne Brücke and all the way to the other side in the Stadtamhof -- or in other terms, about half a mile. We talked the entire way there and back about so very much, more than I could comfortably fit in even two or three entries here. He had this extraordinarily good impression of me, which made me sort of embarrassed, but not really in a bad way. I also improved some German (as you invariably do when you actually use a language) since he corrected me and frequently gave suggestions of alternate, more colloquial wording to things that I was trying to say. Very helpful.

Ah, but what a romantic idea it is, meeting a stranger in a city of Italian streets, engaging in conversation for an entire evening over tea and coffee and a stroll across the famed Blue Danube itself. These are surely storybook encounters.