Sunday, October 26, 2014

The Kindness of Germans- German Wine Road




There is definitely a difference between a small town wine festival and a large one.

On a no-plans Saturday I decided I needed some exploring. And by exploring I mean drinking wine and reading on a patio because this particular October day was a LEGIT sunny fall day.

I drove to Bockenheim, a small village along the German Wine Road, because I read that they were having a wine festival that day.

It was the.most.pitiful thing I’d ever seen. It was no match for some festivals that have come to define the word festival for me… forever.

Well… that was a bust.

DON’T WORRY. I was on the German Wine Road after all and there were literally vineyards surrounding me- there had to be a wine drinking patio somewhere.

Within 90 seconds I was sitting in the sun next to a lily pad pond, book cracked, drinking wine selfie already sent to Dan. #likeaboss

The patio started to fill up, and I was sitting at a table for 6. A woman came over and asked if her and her two friends can sit with me.  I recognize the word “drei” which means three… as in “there’s three of us”. I nod yes. She sits and starts chatting away.

I finally interrupted her and embarrassly tell her I don’t speak German. This usually goes one of two ways: they’re super interested in this, or super turned off by this; and usually it’s the ladder.

But she was the former. She was very interested. She switched to English, which was fantastic. Once her two friends joined her, she told them what she had learned about me and we all spent the next 30 minutes shooting the shit. And it was awesome. Because I miss that.

Turns out one of the men sitting with us has a daughter named Melissa, which I told him was interesting because its definitely not a German name… and he said yes, he knows. It was because of Melissa Etheridge. That’s a thing here..??

They were all from Northern Germany- Hamburg, which I’ve heard is a beautiful port town- something they all confirmed. They were in the area for a week jumping from wine town to wine town. Tough gig.

I was getting ready to leave, when the woman that first sat down told me if Dan and I were ever heading to Hamburg we must come stay with her. She very much insisted on it. She wrote down her phone number, email address and physical address. I liked it because I could tell she was real. I could tell she genuinely wanted us to come stay with her.

Not one of those “yea, let’s get together sometime.” When both parties know you’re never really getting together. That’s some weird shit Americans are known for here.
I’ve had to fend of the question why Americans are so god damn flaky quite frequently.

It was a great fall day, with great wine and great conversation- plus some sincere unexpected kindness which the world definitely needs more of.


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