A Most Peculiar Little Lady

I have been trying to keep a journal of things that happen that I find interesting, while I'm here in Germany visiting my grandma, as a way to work on writing in first person. Here is one story.

                The petite old woman stood in line at the ticket machine, trying to buy a trip from Weierhof to the city of Nuremberg, which was about twenty-five minutes away by train. Having been here just yesterday, I already knew that the ticket machine was inexplicably out of order. In slow and rusty German I stuttered out without thinking “Oh, is the ticket machine still broken?”

                I blushed and stared down at my feet, where my gaze felt most comfortable. I had my headphones in and music was blaring, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had spoken much louder than I realized. The little old woman, whose hair was dyed literally neon orange, turned to me and said something in German, so rapid that all I could do was pull out my headphone and frown a little.

                “I’m sorry, what did you say? My German is so bad… uh, I’m sorry…” in German the words came out clumsily.

                The little woman smiled, almost excitedly. “Where do you come from?” it was still German, but slower and easier to understand.

                “The, uh, the United States,” now I spoke in English, but I felt so embarrassed. I really wished I could speak German as fluidly as I used to. It made me feel so dumb.

                “Oh, the States! Such a wonderful place!” she said, grinning. Her accent was thick, but she obviously spoke English quite well.

                I nodded awkwardly, but she went right on. “What brings you over here, college?”

                Sheepishly smiling, almost flattered that she thought I looked old enough to be in college (most people guessed my age to be about fifteen, which was not only embarrassing, but also annoying). “No,” I said, “I’m here visiting my Grandmother,” I motioned behind me to my kindly old grandma sitting on the bench near us.

                “Wow,” the little woman replied, taking off her enormous square glasses, which had a leopard print frame. “So you come here often?”

                “I used to come here every summer, but it’s been a few years now…” I trailed off, not sure what to say now. I watched as the little woman wiped off her glasses with the long lime green scarf around her neck. What a get-up. I thought to myself.

                The woman put her oversized spectacles back on and looked me right in the eyes. Then she shook her head. “You know, I have traveled all around the world and met at least a thousand different people… But you have the most beautiful eyes I think I have ever seen.”

                For some reason this caught me completely off guard. I stammered a moment and looked down at my feet again. “Aw, thank you.” I finally managed to say. I looked up at her again and saw she was pulling something large out of her handbag.

                “Could I take a picture?” she asked. She had pulled out a camera. Wow, that was strange.

                I didn’t know how to tell her no, though, so I nodded. “Sure,”

                The strange old lady took a couple pictures, and as she put her camera away the train pulled up. We went our separate ways and I sat on the train, watching out the window, wondering what the hell had just happened.

                I kind of liked it though. People like her make the world feel so magical.