encounters
Life is weird. I’ve accepted that fact but last night it was thoroughly reinforced. It culminated in two Ukranian girls waking up on my floor this morning at 5.24 in the am. Let me explain. Or at least try to:
Zittau. Yesterday. 19.30. I’m trying to buy my tickets at a machine so I can jump on the train that’s waiting for me and get on my way back to Dresden. Two girls, about 20-ish, and a lady, about 40-ish are attempting to do the same thing, though failing magnificently at it. In rather fluent-sounding english, the “mom” asks me if I speak English. I just so happen to teach it…what’s up? Help she asks. Help us get to Dresden. “We travel together”. Just follow me I tell them. In the confusion of buying train tickets, the train left without us before asking us if we’d like to come along. It would be another hour in Zittau.
We talked. Or attempted to. They said they were from Sweden. And Italy. And Israel. Though spoke with a heavy dose of a Slavic accent. And I must say, I’ve never heard a Swede speak such bad English before, but the blonde hair and blue eyes were proof enough to sway myjudgements.
Various minor misadventures ensued, which would only bore the casual passer-by but only contributed to a fully weirdness encounter experienced.
22.30 We arrived in Dresden. They were helpless and clung to me. I got them their tickets for their further travels and explained where the main trainstation was. I was cold. Freezing. I wanted to be in bed. The girls needed a hostel. They clung, they followed, I lead. 22.00 Euro per night. Good. And with that it was done. Well, for one person. The younger girls thought that was too much. They would sleep in the train station. “Mom” didn’t seem to mind. As she was filling out paper at the hostel, I noticed she actually lived in Prag.
I walked outside after depositing the “Mom” in the hostel. The girls were shivering and waiting until 6.48 the next morning for warmth in a train to Genova. Dog eyes. Cold. Warmth. I simply waved at them and they followed. After an unquestioning 30 minute walk, we were upstairs in my kitchen. I put myself in their shoes, I’ve BEEN in those shoes, and I was reminded of my youthful lust for adventure and decided to give them something to remember. Food, bread, meat, jelly, all was thrown out on the table in front of them. Wine. Beer. I heard “Da”. “Nyet”. These girls were slavic. In the 25 word english vocabulary they shared, I managed to find out that the Ukranians had done a car-share with “Mom” through the Czech Republic which dropped them off in Zittau. In my .5 word vocabulary of Ukranian, I cheers-ed to chance with the polish/czcech “nzdravia” (things you pick up along the way…). They understood. They smiled.
I showed them to the bathroom. While they were there, I locked my wallet and passport away in a safe in my room. Just to be sure. Then layed out a blanket on the hard cold floor and we all slept. “thank you” they kept saying. It seemed one of the few words they knew. One of the most important no doubt.
The alarm went off at about 5.15 this morning. They rose, washed up and dissapeared into the Dresden night. I never did get their names. Thus is travelling.