By RWC Resident Betty T. Mill, PhD
(Reprinted with permission from “Our Neighborhoods”)
There was a time around 1983, I accompanied my husband on a trip to a NATO meeting in West Germany before we moved to Landstuhl and Ramstein AF Base. I was able to travel with him a great deal back then as part of his work and had some amazing experiences. One “adventure” that continues to baffle me is the night we followed a complete stranger in the dark to a restaurant for which we had no address, knew no one, and other than a greeting or two, could not speak the language.
We arrived in Germany on a Sunday – did a little sightseeing then drove into a small village in early evening. We never made reservations for lodging or meals when we travel because so many guest houses and places to eat were available. As was our custom, on this trip we found a guest house that met our needs.
Once we were settled in our guest house for the night, we asked our host about getting some dinner: Most places were closed at that time. Visiting the same guest house was a relative of our host: An elderly man but very spry. He offered to show us a place to eat and we could walk as it was ‘close’. So off we went at dusk following our guide through the streets of the small village.
Communication between us was very limited – I didn’t speak German except I had learned a couple of words and numbers before traveling: My husband knew some basic words but mostly scientific words. And our guide didn’t speak English.
Minimal conversation flowed throughout our walk. Our guide would ask “hast du hunger?” (Are you hungry?) Our reply,” Ya, Ich bin hanger.” (Yes, I’m hungry.) The other statement our guide knew was. “Deutche auto kleina. Amerkaner auto grossa!” (German autos are small, American autos are large.)
We walked for quite a while, 15 to 20 minutes, now in the dark, and were still on the back streets of the village. We didn’t know where we were going but followed (like mice).
A bit later our guide stopped in front a darkened door, but when opened we stepped into a brightly lighted small bar and restaurant with 8-10 tables. At the bar were several local gentlemen imbibing in beer and conversation. They all turned to look at us, welcomed the guide, one of their drinking buddies, then turned back to their beers.
We were shown to a small table and greeted warmly while being watched by all the men at the bar. In fact, our guide came to check on us several times. “Alles es gu-tes?” (All is good?) he would say. Then return for another beer.
We ordered our food, Weiner Schnitzel and Pommes frites (pork steak and French fries), and a salad and waited only a short time until the food was served: By the way, enough food for 4-5 persons.
Waiting for our food I noticed our table was different construction from all the other tables in the room. Later we learned that in some small villages the restaurants have a special table, saved for “The town men” or visitors who sit at that table with an invitation only.
Quite a time later when we were finished with our meal, had greeted other guests and were ready to walk back to the “gusthaus,” our guide was in no condition to walk back with us. We found our way back alone in the dark and settled in for the night.
We left that small village in the morning noting the hospitality shown to us. Even though we never really got to know or communicate with those we met, we always remembered the evening we followed a stranger for a long time, in the dark, not knowing him or where he was leading us.
We had several adventures while living in West Germany and many delightful experiences and memories. “Follow me…I’m the Pied Piper!”