You know, I thought my day couldn't get any better on Friday after my class with the fifth grade, but as usually, I was wrong.

The fifth grade went to Lübeck to see a little play based on a popular children's book, "Tintenherz" (Ink Heart), and since there was a ticket left over, I was invited, and since I'm a sucker for stories involving magic, I went.

We all met outside the school at about 15.10, and as soon as I arrived, all the girls started giggling. That's nothing usual for this age group; over the last seven months, I've noticed that my presence can be a kind of strange social catalyst, a neccesary component to induce the giggling fits that seem to be so vital to the social structure of girls in early puberty. So, I just ignored them, staring at the sea gulls, the bus, pretty much anything except the whispering covey near the bushes. Nice try.

After about a five minute war council, one of the girls walks up to me and says: "Du hast eine Verehrerin (You have an admirer)," then walks off, the giggles of her compatriots providing cover fire. Great. I seem to be a big hit in the 11-14 group, it's just that whole post-puberty crowd that keeps giving me trouble. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?

After that, the spectacular fall I managed outside the theater that made my left elbow swell up like a marshmellow, and the bizzare collapse of my plans in Lübeck for the weekend, the rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I was pretty disappointed that I got locked in the bus before I could make my plans for the weekend, but if I had stayed in Lübeck I wouldn't have the rest of this post, so it all works out in the end, I guess.

I started Saturday in one of those odd little "I have things to do" moods, so things were just rosey; one of the walls could have fallen away from my room, and as long as it didn't interfere with my laundry, I would have been pretty happy. Anyway, after running to the grocery store, buying food for dinner, and storing it away in the fridge, I decided to run to the bakery to get a cup of coffee and sit and look at Main Street in the company of fellow human beings.

I guess I should start this by saying that this is the same bakery I met the old lady in a couple of months ago, so the possiblity of a repeat is always in the back of mind everytime I go there, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't one of the reasons I go in the first place. I wasn't disappointed.

About half way through my cup of coffee, this young guy sees me through the window, smiles, walks in, shakes my hand, and asks me how I'm doing, in English. I tell him I'm doing OK, that I'm just drinking some coffee, and he goes off to order something. He promply disappeared. I have no idea who he was. I still don't. I assume he's a student at school, which is entirely possible since they all seem to know me somehow, while I can barely keep a hand full of names straight, but I'm just not sure. But that's not the story.

After the guy leaves, this other guy across the rooms starts talking in my direction, babbling names of countries seperated by the words "leider (unfortunately)" and "kaputt." It took me a while, but I figured out he was talking to me, and he was naming English-speaking countries, which he clearly didn't like. Here's basically how it went:

MAN: America, England....England, America, New Zealand, Australia, they're all awful. All the English-speaking countries are awful. Everything there is kaputt. Yeah, that's right. Yeah.

ME: So, only Germany is good?

MAN: Yeah, Germany is the best.

ME: Are you from Germany?

I knew he wasn't: a German would never start such a random conversation, or at least like that, and besides, his accent was odd, (Eastern European). But I thought it was a good question to ask.

MAN: No. Tourist. I'm a tourist. (Babbles incoherently about English-speaking world)

Now, at this point I had gone from being solidly creeped out to just curious, so I moved over to a table next to him so I could hear him better. Again, I wasn't disappointed.

MAN: Were those people from East Germany?

ME: What?

MAN: East Germany.

ME: Huh?

MAN (reaching over and tapping table next to mine): There were to people. Two people. Were they from East Germany?

ME: I don't know.

MAN: I don't like East Germany. It's gray and cold. Cold. Gray. And there are no flowers in the windows. No flowers. Not like Schleswig-Holstein, where everything is green.

ME: Well, it's cold and gray outside today, you know.

MAN: Yes, but it's gray in East Germany. Gray! (He liked to look up at the ceiling and repeat the most recent noun or adjective) Cold. There are no flowers in the windows. And the people too. The people are gray too. The people! They just stand around, you know. They have all these problems, all these problems, and I ask myself: where do they have all these problems from?

Well, I had always assumed they come from the rapid and total fall of an entire socio-economic structure, having to adjust to two differnt currencies and the accompanying inflation rates in fifteen years, and the fact that one in four people in former East Germany are unemployed without any prospects for new jobs after all collective industries were privatized. Boy, was I wrong.

MAN: It's the mentality there, you understand. One guy says "I know," then the next one says "I don't know." It's the whole mentality.

Of course! It all makes sense!

MAN: And Brandenburg and Mecklenburg (two Eastern states) are infiltrating Schleswig-Holstein with propaganda. They're infiltrating. Do you understand me?

Nope, can't say I do.

ME: Oh, yeah.

MAN (Shaking head): And Niedersachsen ("Lower Saxony," a state just below Scleswig-Holstein), you don't want to go there.

ME: OK.

OK, I'll admit: Bremerhaven is a bit ugly, but personally, I thought Bremen itself was beautiful, but to each his own, I guess.

ME: Well, I have to go shopping. Outside. So, have a good day.

MAN: Oh, you too. Have a good afternoon.

Just one thing: is it a bad thing that I'm writing this way about something who is obviously a bit nuts? You know what, don't answer that.