Grandmothering is universal
by Becca on December 20, 2009
I met the quintessential German grandmother on the train from Frankfurt to Hamburg. After boarding I noticed her stand up and wave to a young girl and woman on the platform. She waved heartily then made a sweeping motion, as if to say, “Go home! I’m on board the train, no more fuss is required.” Then we settled into our seats with smiles and awkward attempts to arrange luggage without smooshing one another. The attendant stopped by to check tickets, at which point I asked, “Sprechen sie English?” As soon as those words escaped my lips, the woman reached over, gently tapped my arm, and asked in heavily accented English, “No German? May I try my English for you?” I thought “Heck yeah!” would be rude so I settled for an enthusiastic, “Yes, please, thank you very much.”
For the next 3 hours or so we enjoyed spurts of conversation between train stops, attendant visits, and cat naps. When the server first stopped by my new friend translated my request for black tea with milk and sugar. Though I suspect I could’ve communicated that on my own, I appreciated her immediate willingness to take this young American girl under her wing, for that’s surely how she regarded me. After we shared that this was my first trip to Europe (apparently Germans don’t typically think of the UK as Europe, it’s been most often referred to in my presence with a dismissive wave and label of “the island.”) and she was going home after visiting her granddaughter for a week, we shared some idle chit chat.
“Oh yah, if I was young as you, I’d travel more…” Then she told me how in the mid 1950′s she visited the United States with a group of young Germans (6 girls and 6 boys). It was a big deal to them because it was just after “the big war” and America opened visas to German travelers. They spent 13 days on a boat coming over and 11 days on the way back.
She sighed, “A vunderful trip, it was. Where do you come from?” I tell her I live in Houston, Texas, and she replied, “That’s where your President Bush comes from, yes?” I hoped my cringe was only internal as I nodded yes and qualified that with, “But that’s a different part of the state.”
We talk more about my trip plans and I explain that I will stay in Hamburg for almost a week then take the train back to Frankfurt for my flight home. Her English is pretty spotty so I have to explain again as she thinks I’ll be living in Germany for a year. Once she understands it’s a short business trip, she asks if I know how to get from the Hamburg train station to my hotel. I can’t pronounce the name of my hotel so I try to show her the name by pulling out my itinerary on my iPhone.
She takes the phone from me, pulls it closer to her face then holds it out at a distance. I think she growled at it, then set it down gently on the table in front of us, heaved up her purse from the floor, and rummaged around until she found her glasses. She donned her glasses brusquely then gently picked up the phone again. “Ah, Europaischer Hof. Shall I write it for you in case you need help at Hamburg Hauptbahnof?” I nodded yes, and she wrote it down on my train itinerary in large, choppy letters that, I swear, were identical to my own grandmother’s handwriting.
Finally we pull into Hamburg Hauptbahnof and she beams at me saying, “You… haf… arrived.” Indeed I had, thanks to a little grandmothering from a stranger.
Tagged as:
Germany,
train
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
“Heck Yaeh” Becca! What a hoot … esp. the part about growling at your iPhone. Keep those stories coming.
uh, “Yeah” but you knew that right?