Walking down an old cobblestone street in Wiesbaden, I couldn’t help but notice how my steps echoed between the rows of shops. Everything was so quiet except for me. It made me feel very conspicuous. I felt like all of the pigeons along the rooftops were watching me because of the noise I was making.
If I didn’t do something to quiet my steps, I was sure some impending doom would befall me. I stopped momentarily and slipped my shoes off. I tucked them into my backpack and continued on in my stocking feet.
A very old man stepped from his doorway and lit a small hand-rolled cigarette. He squinted at me through the smoke, looking at my stocking feet, then back up at me. He said something in German, I didn’t know what. Probably - another stupid American. I kept walking.
As I passed him, he said it again, only a little louder. It didn’t seem to have a cruel tone, like if he were calling me a bad name or something, it seemed more like an announcement or…
Just then I stepped in dog
poop. The old man laughed and looking at
me, shrugged, like I tried to tell you.
1 comment:
Always good to learn the language of the country you are in! And never ignore people who are trying to tell you something. Jokes on you! Ha ha
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