No Direction Home

There are times when we don’t have all of the information we need, so we have to fill in the blanks with the scant information we have.

When in a foreign country, one does not always seek out conversations amongst strangers. This is especially true when you do not know exactly where you are, compounded by the fact that you are not speaking your native language. You are out of your comfort zone and exactly where you want to be. Yes, it is uncomfortable. There is a certain sense of danger and recklessness.

And yes, I get nervous when I need to speak another language. I am nervous that all those months of half assed training have gone to waste. In reality, the best way to get better at a language is to use it and use it with reckless abandonment. Don’t worry, people will tell you when you are wrong. Usually, they tell you when they switch back to English.

I was walking down a street toward the apartment I am staying in for a few days. I felt a little bit confident walking from the apartment to my daughter’s place a kilometer away. Street corners in Germany follow a strict rule of order. I recently was reprimanded for crossing on the red with no car within two blocks. Wait for the Mainz man to tell you to go. He is the cute little automated guy on the streetlight.

It was getting dark and dark ugly storm clouds lurked on the horizon. I love early autumn skies, with a bit of personality, but tonight I wanted to get back to the apartment dry.

There I saw and older man roaming the street very much like I did a few days back. He was reading the street signs and referring to technology or an old-fashioned map. I suspect the latter.

And then he flagged me down. He started speaking to me in German and it was obvious it was his first language. Usually, I get nervous when speaking to the locals, but I had no time to get nervous.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking me, but I never let on I was not completely competent with the language. I was wearing a sweatshirt with a Mustang from the school where my wife teaches in Vancouver, Washington.

He showed me a map of where he wanted to go, and I had a hard time seeing it. I understood his German fairly well and surmised he was headed to the train station eight blocks away. He never indicated he was headed to the Hapbahnhof and if he would have to take that train anyways.
I had been on this street only two times before, yet I knew how to get him there. Now I just had to say it correctly and with a tad of false bravado.

I didn’t even hesitate.

Gehen Sie geradeaus auf dieser Straße für vier Blocks. Dann rechts, und Sie werden den Zug sehen.

He didn’t care if there was agreement in the accusative case. Either did I. He thanked me with vigor. I am not sure if he picked up that I was not a local. I watched him walk slowly off into the sunset in the direction I recommended. The storm had passed.

In retrospect I should have walked him to the station. My German isn’t good enough for long conversations.