Schnecke

It takes approximately 40 minutes for a tiny snail to mope around, poop, eat half of what came out and then go along on its merry way.

I know this because that's how long I watched one yesterday evening on a bench at the University.

Seriously, there are soooo many things I would rather do than write my final essays.

(Did you know it doesn't come out the "tail" end, but rather at the opening of the shell, fairly close to its head if it's curled closer up? I know this post has been utterly disgusting, but I can't help but always be fascinated by biological things.)

Train Tracks

Yesterday, a friend who I have not seen for a very long time came by train, arriving in Regensburg.

Ironically at the same time, a friend who I will not see again for a very long time boarded that exact same train at the exact same moment, departing from Regensburg.

Here We Go Again

Trying to successfully complete three 10-page term papers and a final exam on German literature after 1945 by 24. July, and preferably earlier than said date.

Blog entries minimal. All you need to know right now for updates is that I was visited by a Dutch friend who flew in from the Netherlands and stayed for a few days last week.

Wait for it.... wait for iiiit....

A FLYING DUTCHMAN!!!

Happy Trails until my return, all.

Another Rainy Day Stranger

This will be a long post, but I try to limit the number of those, so I'm not too bothered.


Ha Tien is a tiny, Asian restaurant - and restaurant is a generously large term - merely down the street and 'round the corner from my dorm. I go there all the time when I'm in a hurry, low on refrigerator ingredients, or feel the need to get extra protein in my diet without spending the time or money on supermarket meat. Ha Tien is also a cheap but good eat, which means that my name is probably written somewhere on the outside of the restaurant. In bold.

As I am often wont to do, I planned to order a big bowl of noodles (big = dinner tonight + lunch tomorrow) and take the spoils of the kill back to my room to feast in the darkness of my cave. When I ordered, there was one other guy eating in near the opposite wall from the door. I glanced over as he munched a spring roll and I wondered about this other person who was eating alone on Friday night. I paid for my order and left, but as I got to my dorm, I had this sudden desire to reach out to someone else tonight. Someone I don't already know, I guess.

I went back in and tugged out a stool from the table he was sitting at. I set down my box of noodles and said hi. There's absolutely nothing to lose in these situations. He was likewise very nonchalant about it, and said hello back to me. I smiled back and bluntly said, Company, you know. He nodded and took another spoonful of his noodle soup. We asked each others names and began talking, talking about whatever.

Seba(stian) is fairly tall, probably near 6'4". He has a head of light brown, curly hair. Almost like a Jew-fro. But it looks nice, because it's not a careless, tousled mess of curly. He has some facial hair of the same color, scraggly but also neatly trimmed. I don't really know what color his eyes are. Seba is handsome in face, though lanky, and walks with a strange gait, like his legs are trying to reach a little further than his body can get to in one stride. Seba is not a big smiler, but he doesn't make you uncomfortable, and when he does laugh, it's a pleasure to see.

Seba works and lives about an hour outside of Regensburg, but at the end of the work week, he likes to spend the weekends here because it's more fun and there's more to do. Seba's from way south, near the German-Austrian border, in Oberbayern.

Seba and I agree to walk to the Jahninsel/island on the river and see if the music fest has started up in spite of the rain. We talk about accents while we are on the bridge. He asks if I've picked up any of the local accent (Baierisch!), and if I often do the accent from my home area for fun (American southern! No!) . Seba and I joke about the final essays that I have to write, that he wrote years ago. Seba looks around 28-34, but it's hard to say because people also stay in school much longer here (some of my friends at the Uni are that age). Seba and I walk around on the bridge and scope the festival going on below. A few scattered crowds huddle just in front of the stages or under the bridge's archways. The entry fee is €4 . We shrug and don't bother going in today.

We head back into the main city and eventually go our separate ways again. Seba says he'll follow the gradual stream of people in gaudy, plaid, baggy shin pants to what he predicts is a Bad Taste party. I laugh and wish him luck. We shake hands in parting, he asks my name once more, and wish each other a good evening. I turn down a side alley to go back home. Seba turns and continues down the street with his strange gait, presumably to arrive eventually at a party with many badly dressed people.

I Spy

Sometimes while I'm walking on the street, I don't feel as if I'm being watched, but rather, recognized. Regensburg is certainly big enough that you only may or may not run into people you actually know on the street, but it's also small enough that there are certain strangers in the population who I definitely recognize by face now. I predict that we simply have frequently crossing routes in our daily lives. In my mind, I say hello to the people who sometimes get on the same buses as me on some days of the week.

(On a side note, there are even several people I recognize now because I recognize their dogs. One of them, for example, is a lean, tan-orange dog whose front right paw sticks out at a funny angle and he limps a bit. Another is a mixed white dog with brown patches who has funny and almost bunny-like ears that I can recognize instantly. Very noticeable dogs. In my mind, they are named Lean Tan-Orange Funky Leg Dog and Mostly White Bunny Ears Dog, respectively. In my mind, I wave hello to them.)

I imagine, If I can recognize them, then what would keep anyone from recognizing me, too?

In addition, we will consider the fact that I am Asian, which already brings me out in the general crowd here. Unless you would like to use the stereotype that all people of one general race all look the same as your argument. (Yeah, thanks. I must admit that I don't feel so bad about it because to me, all white people with vaguely brown-ish hair look precisely the same to me. Damn, but how I hope for the day when I can finally tell them all apart.)

In addition to that, we will also consider that I frequently practice juggling and poi in certain locations around the main city when the weather is nice outside.

A non-tourist, juggling, striped-sock-spinning Asian.

... If I can recognize random people here, they have got to be recognizing me. Case rested.

Brownie Points

Two and a half weeks ago, my mother arrived here to visit me. I booked a direct shuttle for her directly from the Munich airport to my street in Regensburg.

She was the only passenger pick up for that morning, so when she realized with shock that she had lost her camera on the plane, her incredibly nice driver drove her back after 15 minutes down the highway to go try and locate it. He translated German for her, explaining her situation to the airport staff, and waited with her until they came back with some answer. When they finally got here to Regensburg, he happily offered to carry her heavy luggage up to my room -- which is on the 5th floor of a building with no elevator. This was also not even part of the shuttle service. He was panting by the time he reached the top with us, and still left with a big, friendly smile. (Just think... he didn't ever even give us the German Stare! *swoon* ).

Today, I am still wracked with guilt that I forgot to give him the extra tip which he so deserved. All I paid him was the basic shuttle service fee. I guess it just nags me a little more because I will likely never see him again to tell him thanks for taking good care of my mother all the way here.

Zwillinge

("Twins")

Apparently, I look just like someone named Mariane ("mah-ree-AH-neh", not Mary-ann, you Americans) when seen from a bridge above while I'm shuffling and walking through snow on a frozen river.

I looked up when she called my name, like you do when you know a call is being directed right at you. There was also no one else near me.

"Mariane?" once again, and I shook my head.

But what interests me now is that apparently, I look so much like this person that even after I looked up, the girl who called down to me didn't do the thing where you mis-recognize a person, apologize briefly, and walk away. We weren't that far apart in distance between the top of the bridge and the river. She looked at me for a good moment and hesitated before moving on, even after I smiled and shook my head.

Practically, I think it's easy to mis-recognize someone in winter when everybody is bundled up and has similar articles of clothing everywhere. But it still makes me wonder just a little bit.

Gute Aussprache - Lustiges Beispiel

("Good Pronunciation - Funny Example")

Pertaining to the topic of the previous post, a friend and I were talking in her kitchen a couple of weeks ago. She's Czech but speaks good German and English. All of our conversations are therefore hybrids of the two, depending on what we are talking about or how we feel. One of her flatmates wandered in briefly to get something, and he asked us out of curiosity, "How come you guys don't just use German, and randomly switch to English all the time?"

Friend: (to him) "Because she's American and an English native-speaker and it helps me practice and we can."

Flatmate: (to me) " ....Wait, you're not from Germany??"


Pardon me while I continue to gloat.

This is a Rant about the Wallet Witch

I am feeling slightly vexed at the grouchy German hag at one of the stands in the Christkindlmarkt. She works at a bag/purse/wallet booth, and I was sifting through the rows of wallets on display, because my current wallet is not conducive to holding change, and I'm looking for a new one.

So I will take my time looking, right? Because there are infinite number of wallet styles and I'd like one that is both very practical for my needs and appeals to my taste, right? Right. Tell this lady who gives me a cold smile when I walk up. She honestly has that look like I'm wasting her time. I just got here, woman! And I am browsing, not running a marathon.

I must admit to having a "female" stereotype of being terribly indecisive. I think I am afraid of irreversibility. At any rate, unless I know specifically what I'm getting, I am not particularly swift at buying things. 1) Do I need it?. 2) Do I like it?. And so on.

I am narrowed down to two cloth-type wallets, more or less. So they are of the same structure, but different colors, slightly different sizes, different designs, etc. Aesthetically, I like them both. Practically, the charcoal one doesn't open up as well, but eggshell/white gets dirty and sooty looking very quickly. So I need to decide. But this is particularly difficult because for the entire time I am there, she is standing over and watching me. Lady, I am just looking, and have told you so twice. Don't you have some big shelf of purses to go organize or something? Some inventory to count up?? Some sunny land of bunnies to go darken with your face like a storm cloud?? Meanwhile, she has so helpfully informed me for the 3rd time since I got there, "They are all the same!" (No, they are not, just like how you and I are both humanoid, but you are a total five-letter word that rhymes with witch, and I am not.)

I know that I have a hard time deciding, so I smile and apologize briefly. Like you do. Most people understand, and if they want business, they will definitely understand. Instead, she retorts straight back to me, "Yeah. I'm sorry too." I didn't even listen to whatever the hell else she was adding to that remark, because I was stuffing the wallets back into the row and walking away at that moment.

(I really need a Döner and some Will and Grace right now.)

Mäuschen

("Little mousy" - "MOYS-hyen")

Before my Tutorium today, I saw a little mouse at the university! My tutor laughed and said she was not so pleased to hear that as much as I was to see the Mäuschen (-chen is a diminuitive suffix in German). I know, I know... seeing a mouse at your university is not really good news. But it really was adorable. I cannot help it.

(On a tangent note, I hope some of you have read The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo. It is a children's novel, but incidentally one of my very favorite books that I've ever read. Despereaux is also an adorable little mouse.)

Parlez-vous Französisch?

Hahaha. A nice lady and a girl just rang our doorbell and asked (in German) if there was anyone here that I knew who spoke French.

I smiled and told her that I unfortunately didn't know anyone here who did. What I realized I should have added afterward was, "Sorry, no French. But we've got Chinese and Swahili, though!" I just think I would have gotten a kick out of it.

(Yes. My suitemate has spent time in Africa and can actually speak a certain amount of Swahili very well. Neat, huh?)

Conveyor Belt

Yesterday I was standing in line at the supermarket with all of my stuff already on the conveyor belt. Behind me were standing two guys who were probably in their late teens (all boys are 5 years old...), badly dressed in baggy and punk clothing and an even worse smell.

When it came time to put the beers that they were buying on the conveyor belt, the one right behind me tried to sneak the grocery separation bar behind the front two beer bottles. Thanks for trying, but that was about as subtle as ketchup on a white sweater. I looked over and gave him a big, friendly, "... Don't f*** with me" look. He gave me a cheesy, nervous chuckle and oily slid the bar back to its rightful spot. It might not have been as sad if he had looked like he was actually joking.

Are You My Mother?

I must always laugh when children in public areas get distracted and mistake strangers for their own parents or older siblings, taking hold of their hands absent-mindedly, only to look up and realize with frozen horror that they have been tagging along with a completely strange and unfamiliar face that is not Mommy.

I was at the library today, glancing around and looking at DVDs in the children's section, just to see what was there. I skimmed down the rows at about eye level, and meanwhile passed a little German boy of about seven or eight, who was also skimming at his respective eye level while his mother and brother were browsing nearby. He plucked a movie off the shelf and began jabbering an explanation of it just as I stood behind him looking over his head. He was still conversationally reading the back of the box out loud to me when he turned to show it to me, and looked up.

I smiled broadly and said, "Sorry, what was that?"

He blinked and quickly glanced around after a stunned moment. Then he looked back up, grinned sheepishly, and quietly mumbled, ".. Oh.* " I grinned back. He turned around with a little blush and stuck the movie back onto the shelf.

I found what I wanted, checked out my books, and left the library still grinning.

*(For those of you who speak German, it was, ".. Achso." Which just amuses me tenfold.)

Contact in Zwiebelmarkt

As I mentioned, I was in the cities of Erfurt and Weimar this weekend, which are not far from each other and lie around central Germany.

Weimar is famous for the Zwiebelmarkt, or "Onion Market." It's a big street festival that's held every year, this year being Zwiebelmarkt #355. The most common wares at the hundreds of stands lining the streets are, of course, food and Zwiebeln -- onions.


It's all very autumnal and aesthetically appealing and cute. In addition to sprigs and sprigs of onions, there are also other onion-based goods, like onion marmalade/jelly (I kid you not. But I heard it was actually rather good).

Later in the afternoon, I split off from our small group and took to wandering the Zwiebelmarkt streets until dinner. Lo and behold, I found a fellow contact juggler. I was excited.

From Erfurt, Weimar, and Buchenwald

I watched him for a while... most probably because I suddenly realized that I can do exactly what he does. And... he was earning oolongs per hour just performing simple contact juggling! (You have to remember -- The €1 and €2 are coins here, so... Seeing as it's easier to toss coins, AND the Euro is worth more, there is obvious appeal for me here...)

After about a whole hour of watching what he does to earn street performance money, I went up to him when he took a break and swapped e-mails with him so that I could send him these pictures that I took of him. At first, I didn't talk, because he didn't talk in his performance, so I thought I'd follow suit.

C-juggler: "Er, you speak English?"
Me: "Of course. English and German, both."

I explained sending the pictures to him and we swapped e-mails.

C-juggler: "So you can do some of this, too?"
Me: "Yes, a little, though I'm better at juggling and poi. You know what I'm talking about?"
C-juggler: "Ah, yeah, with these things on strings..."
Me: "Exactly."
C-juggler: "Do you live here?"
Me: "No, I'm from the States. I'm an exchange student."
C-juggler: "Aha. But are you staying in Weimar?"
Me: "No, I'm staying in Regensburg. By the way, how often is it that you come here, to Zwiebelmarkt, for example, to street perform?"
C-juggler: "Well, I live here in Weimar, you see. Oh, but I'm not from Weimar originally, I just live here now. I'm actually from Mexico."

Wow. You don't see many Mexicans in Germany. Much less Mexicans swathed in desert-dune cloth and chalky costume make-up who are standing on boxes and contact juggling in the street.

He smiled and said farewell as I wished him luck and went back to the youth hostel. I sent him the photos I took when I got back to Regensburg.

Oktoberfest: Die Herzen

("Hearts")

While you've probably noticed that I have no few gripes about Oktoberfest, there were at least portions of my trip to München that weekend that were not nearly so bad.

On the train ride there, it was somewhat full, as most transportation to Munich is during Oktoberfest. Three of us caught sight of three seats in the same quadra-set (what do you call 4 seats on a train that are facing each other anyway...?) as an old German lady, and we asked her, "Entschuldigung, sind diese noch frei?" ("Excuse me, are these still free?"). She said, "Natürlich!" ("Of course!") and we sat down.

I sat right next to her, and we ended up having some great and interesting conversation. She was poking a needle through a little red paperboard heart and threading some plastic orange string in a bed stitch around the border. We asked her what she was doing.

The story is that this unassuming old lady is actually an enthusiastic traveler. She's been all over different continents, and wings it completely on her own. What she was making was small, simple heart ornaments, and what she does is give them to the people she meets all over the world.

"I first got the idea in Tanzania, you see. I worked there in a program for a while with lots of children. At the end, I was going to leave soon, and I wracked my brain for something that I could give them as gifts. Then, this came to me, and I made a little heart for each of them. They took a photo, and each child had a little heart pinned to his or her chest. It was so lovely!

Her hearts are now all over the world. She has given them away in countless places she has been, from Reykjavik, to Tanzania, to Beijing.

Me: "Wow! That's so inspiring, and it's wonderful that you've done this.
Old woman: "Yes, and no one else in the world does this. I am the only one who makes such hearts!"

She then tied green ribbon at the top of three hearts and handed one new heart to each of us. We thanked her and she smiled.

Me: "Do you have any idea at all how many you've made by now? Dozens? Hundreds?"
Old woman: "Ohh, my... I almost couldn't even say. I've long since lost count. But I would honestly have to say, at least in the thousands by now. I make them constantly. I make them wherever I go, and pass the time with them. And then I give them to people."

Thousands of these little hearts all around the world!

From Oktoberfest, München

We asked her about the materials she used. She buys some of the same cardstock every time -- red on one side, white on the other. The ribbon is also simple and inexpensive. The string is the best part. What she does is collect and keep those mesh sacks that hold apples or potatoes when you buy them in the supermarket. She then takes them apart and uses the bright orange fibers as her thread. (See the orange sack in the back of the picture.)

Old woman: "Sometimes people think I'm just crazy. Why do you want to collect such junk as that? Ah, but I put it to good use. See? Why create more trash instead of re-using it to make things that bring you happiness?

It's completely inexpensive, easy to carry around, good for a hobby, and is special."

My friend asked her if she made any other shapes besides hearts. She said no, but also explained a belief of hers.

"You know, I believe that emotion really does stem from the heart. It is not in your head, as people say. Think about this now... When you are upset... when something angers you and you get in an uproar!" She dramatically patted the area over her heart. "Your heart -- it begins to flutter and beat faster. And when something excites you, your heart reacts faster. And when you are sad, you feel as if the pain is in your heart."

She made a funny face, as if mimicking someone thinking really hard. "Yes, your head, it's good for all your logic, your thoughts, your reasoning, 'Why this, why that.'" But your heart. I believe it is true... that all emotions stem from the heart."

We said farewell as she reached her stop before München and packed her things together. And that was our pleasant morning train ride.

From Oktoberfest, München

Good luck and happiness on your travels. Maybe we'll see each other again some day.
Auf Wiedersehen, Frau "Herzenmacher".

Meet and Greet

As I might have mentioned in an earlier post, I share a kitchen with a suitemate. However, she's been out of the country for the summer break here and just got back today.

I was re-organizing the kitchen this evening and listening to the Avenue Q soundtrack. If you aren't already familiar with Avenue Q, this might not be as amusing to you, but I think you can still get the gist of it.

So when my suitemate and her friend happen to arrive at the kitchen door and walk in, my computer happened to be blasting "The Internet Is For Porn." Not only was it playing "The Internet Is For Porn," but at the very moment that both of them walked in, it was playing the ending chorus.

Which goes something like, "Pooooorn, POOOORN, POOOOOORNNN!!!!"

. . . . . .

I can only hope they didn't recognize what was being belted with gusto when I practically ran at the computer with glass drinking glasses still in my hand and slammed the pause button. Stellar first impression.

(Of all the few days that I am not listening to classical or trance/techno... Of all days!)

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.

Putzen (Cleaning)

There's a cleaning lady (and sometimes the Hausmeister) who comes into my(/our) kitchen every Tuesday morning, presumably (and maybe Friday?). The way my suite is set up is that you walk straight into a kitchen, which has a door on either side that lead to my room and my suitemate's, respectively. So while she fortunately never does or has to come in my room, I do still hear her.

Also fortunately, I'm usually awake by the time she comes in, which tends to float around 7:45 AM. I'm sure most other students are not that lucky.

Once, I had the misfortune of having no idea why someone was in the kitchen and stepping out to investigate (my suitemate, if I have one, has not come yet because the official semester doesn't start until October). She was nice enough, but she got onto my case about not taking the trash out. She told me in half-broken German that it smelled (she appears to be of Indian or close by ethnicity). Frau Cleaning Lady, I just got here a week ago. I don't even know exactly how the German trash system works yet -- you must surely know that there are a big pile of recycling and sorting rules and that it's confusing even for Germans sometimes.

Anyway, that's probably why I never step out while she's here at all any more. I know it wasn't a big deal, but I sort of have a subconscious bad impression.

I went out to the kitchen today a little while after she left. Hey, what's this?? Wait, Frau Cleaning Lady.... I don't leave huge, speckled streak marks on my stove top when I clean it. Come to think of it, it didn't have streak marks when I cleaned it and went to bed last night!

I have to admit that I take some pride in doing a better job than the cleaning lady in keeping the kitchen well, even if only in this aspect so far. And YES, this is probably one of the cleanest kitchens in the entire building, thanks very much, I'll be backstage to sign autographs after the show.

On a different note, last Friday, almost to the point of supernatural punctuality (I guess this is Germany), was the very last day it was decently warm/summer. The day after, it went, "BAM." Cold. Even the weather doesn't mess around here. It's here or it's not, and it's punctual about it! Not like weather in the confounded southern US.... where the best it can sometimes be described is a fickle [female hound]. US southern weather likes to loll and float about uselessly during periods that I fondly refer to as Wing, Spummer, Sall and Fwinter.

Evening on the Haidplatz: Der Rote Regenschirm

(Der Rote Regenschirm = "The Red Umbrella")

It started raining yesterday in the early evening. Water was pouring heavily from the sky, but I took my umbrella, left my room, and walked around the Altstadt ("Old City," the main are of Regensburg where I live). My pant legs were very quickly drenched across the front, but I knew it would happen and had put on light pants that would dry easily later. The rain was heavy enough that my shoulders were sometimes lightly misted.

I went straight down Vor der Grieb and strolled down Untere Bachgasse, and then turned left towards Neupfarrplatz, past hurried scurriers and small clusters of people huddled under awnings and building fronts, waiting for a better chance to brave the rain. I went up Residenzstrasse to Krauterermarkt and stared up at the Dom. Eventually, I made my way to the Haidplatz right by my dorm, and I walked around it and stood for a good long while. It was so very nice. My pants were drenched but I wasn't cold, and I had a very relaxing time staring around the Haidplatz with the rain coming down all around me.

I walked another round. Then the second time I came to Haidplatz, an old German gentleman turned and walked up to me as I stood there, just as he was going to pass me, as if he had changed his mind about something.

(German)
"Servus!" He said to me.

"Servus!"

"I had made some pictures of You a little while ago, do You have an address to which I can send them?"

(*In German, you don't "take" pictures, you "make" them)

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, see?" He turns his digital camera on and angles the screen towards me as he scrolls through a handful of them. I can see the tiny image of myself against the street and buildings of the Haidplatz.

"Achso! Wie schön!"

"It was so nice and lovely, the little red umbrella against the gray background and buildings. I can send them to You, if you have an address."

"Yes, an e-mail address? I do have one. Um, I'm afraid I don't have any..."

"It's no problem, I have something to write on," He rummages through his shirt pockets and pulls out a pen and some business card. He hands them to me, and I jot down my e-mail.

I chuckled politely and said, "I'm sorry that I can't write it so well on here, it's a little bit difficult, so it might look messy."

"Oh, it's no problem, completely understandable in this situation."

"Here you go. Can You read that?"

He reads out my e-mail aloud in a German accent, then looks to me, and I nod and tell him that's exactly right. He smiled amiably and assured me that he would send them to me. I smiled amiably back and said, "Danke schön!" We bid each other a good evening and he left on his way down Vor der Grieb.

And later last night, he really did:


This is the e-mail he wrote to me with the pictures, as well as I can translate it:

Betreff: Haidplatz im Regen 12.09.08, 19:15

Verehrte Unbekannte,

hier die Fotos, die ich von Ihnen aus der Ferne (meinem täglichen Stammplatz ) in dieser nassen Atmosphäre "geschossen" habe...

Der mir so vertraute Platz, mit soviel Wasser von oben, alles Stein und steingrau, und Sie ganz solo, mit dem einzigen Farbfleck, - dem roten Regenschirm.....

Sie taten das, was ich in meinem bisherigen Leben bevorzugte: zu erleben, was zu erleben war, - ohne Rücksicht auf das "Drumherum"...

Wenn Sie jemals nach Cesky Krumlov / Tschechien kommen sollten: das ist für mich jedesmal ein Erlebnis, wie es offensichtlich für Sie heute der Haidplatz war.

Es freute mich, daß Sie für meine Geburtsstadt soviel Vorliebe ( =trotz Regen ) spüren...

Besten Gruß! Chr. Beckers

Subject: Haidplatz in the Rain 12.09.08, 19:15

Admired Stranger,

Here are the photos that I shot of You from afar (from my daily usual spot) in this wet, rainy setting...

To me, it was such a familiar place, with so much water pouring from above, everything stone and stone-gray, and You standing completely alone, with a single stain of color, - the red umbrella...

You did what I in my life up til now rather always liked to do: to experience what experience was, - without regards to all the "hubbub" and bustling all around...

If you should ever go to Cesky Krumlov/the Czech Republic: that is for me each time an experience just exactly as the Haidplatz was for you today.

It gladdens me to see that you seem to feel such affection for my birth town (in spite of the rain)...

All the best! Chr. Beckers

Evening on the Haidplatz: Edelweiss

Two evenings ago, I finished eating dinner and went out to practice poi on the Haidplatz, which is a square that's literally about 30 meters from my dorm. It was a nice, clear evening, one of many that we usually have these days. There are Italian restaurants and historic buildings and people walking around the Haidplatz at practically all hours. It's especially nice because the restaurants still have their outdoor tables setup for the summer, and there are candles lit on each of them until about 22-23:00 every night.

At around 19:00, I was poi-ing in front of a closed shop window. One reason that I go outside is because I have no full-length mirror in my dorm, so I go outside and use the reflection in shop windows to practice instead. A guy with a backpack and cap came up to me, and I stopped when he stood there as people do when they mean to approach you. He jokingly struck a Kung Fu pose, which I promptly returned, because I don't know a bit of Kung Fu, but that's what I do. He said hello and told me how he liked what I was doing. Somehow he got started into some detailed explanations of the martial arts, his involvement in them, what he has seen people do in them, etc.

Unfortunately, my German capabilities only picked up, ohh..... 30% of what he was saying (I'm trying not to cry). And he was talking quickly and conversationally and with complicated vocabulary. And the only reason why he continued is that I have a slightly higher capability of reading out what the proper response needs to be from the other person's intonation and body language. Some advanced form of, "Uh-huh." He was pretty into it, so I didn't really want to stop him. I did at least pick up that he lives locally in Regensburg, and that he often attends a martial arts club/gym in town. He said I was welcome to check it out sometime.

Partway through, he handed me a €0.20 coin as a tip, I guess. (If I get better, I intend to put out a hat one day anyway). He continued for a little longer, and then we finally said, "Tschüss!" and he went on his way. I started poi-ing once more, but after a few minutes, he suddenly popped around the corner and came up to me again. He held something small up and told me he wanted to give this to me. It was an Edelweiss, pressed and preserved inside a glass and bronze necklace ornament.

He looked at me and said (still German), "This is an Edelweiss. It's a flower from around here. They are said to bring luck. I want to give this to you. So I wish the best of luck to you, and keep on doing what you do!"


There's nothing romantic that occurred here. He was just a guy who was inspired by something and felt moved to return something back. And I was just some person standing on the corner of the Haidplatz, looking at an Edelweiss in my hand and wondering what had really just happened.