The Woman With Soup On Her Face

Judith, a fellow intern and a bit older than me, invited me to her boyfriend's ex-apartment for a sing-a-long in order to learn all the Cologne songs for Karneval. There's hundreds upon hundreds of songs that people know just by listening to them for years on end, but we went over about fifty or so.

I probably know the refrain to two of them.

Ether way, I got to meet some great people. Judith and the other interns at the school are a welcome sight. No more older teachers surrounding me-- I finally have people my own age I can talk to. I'm still the youngest, but who cares. Age ain't nothin' but a number.

I was absolutely exhausted today due to some late-night work the night before. I feel like I'm busting my ass for one of my classes but it's still not coming through the way I would like. I'm not satisfied with my performance, or that of the students. But I'm learning loads along the way and making plenty of mistakes to learn from.

But I took my second adventure on the train system in the city to get to Judith's boyfriend's ex-apartment. I wanted to buy my ticket in the station but didn't have any change (no notes allowed) and asked a couple of people near me if they had any. On asking the three people who looked to be around me age I realized that yes, I'm going to have to ask the two old women chatting away for change. These women were...well, they were old. As I was walking towards them I asked if they spoke English and one of the women said "Yes! I speak English" and promptly started talking to me in German.

But then I noticed something upon closer inspection. She had thick yellow soup dripping down her face.

It was about this time that I don't know whether to laugh or to run and ask the people that are suddenly streaming onto the platform. I stick it out, only to be grabbed by my jacket and pulled within a couple of inches of the woman's face. She's pulling a ton of change out of her pocket, most of which is falling on the floor and all the while her friend is yelling at her. I look up to the previous people I asked and realize about twenty people are watching the exchange with rapt attention. I make a face and most laugh, because what else can I do.

So the woman with soup on her face slowly places change in my hand. Some 1 euro coins, others 1 cent coins. My train comes and goes and most people leave, giving me apologetic smiles on their way to wherever. I continue my crouching and picking up change falling out of the woman's pocket and realize that no, she doesn't have enough for a five note, only a little over four euros.

I tell her it's fine and I don't mind. I take my money and buy my ticket. The woman's friend without soup on her face gets out of her chair and hobbles to me, giving me a token for a supermarket cart so I can get fifty cents back (here you put money in the cart as incentive to not steal it. Once you're done shopping you get the money back). I almost laughed in her face, but she was so earnst that I held back and waited until I got on the train.

So there's that story. I have plenty of others, but that was today's highlight. Tomorrow is the start of Karneval and I have an outfit (thanks to Judith and my previous shopping spree). Plans are tomorrow with Karo, Friday with Judith, Saturday is a big question mark, and Sunday is the parade with Mr. and Mrs. W and then my date with Marc.

Monday and Tuesday Karneval is still going on, but I can't think that far ahead. Lord knows I have plenty of work to do for back home, but I have a feeling I'll in such high spirits (read: drinking and having a grand old time) that I won't care. The fifth season of the year, indeed.