Pleasant encounters
 

The thread about how not to look like tourists reminded me of one of the possible benefits of looking like a tourist--to wit, the lovely conversations I've had with strangers.

The American opera singer we met on a street corner in Regensburg when we were trying to figure out how to get back to our hotel. The German teenaged boy in Segovia who was delighted to speak to us in English, which he knew very well, as opposed to Spanish, with which he was still struggling. It was very sweet to see how glad he was to speak with us two old girls.

Then there was the chambermaid in our hotel in Beilstein, who asked where we were from. We said, "Washington state," to which she responded "Oh, the Evergreen State." It turned out that she had lived in Bellingham (on the coast) and had worked as a carpenter's apprentice there.

The German woman I chatted with in the coffee shop at the Neue Nationalgalerie, or the talkative woman at the next table on the Hauptstrasse in Heidelberg. We had quite a nice conversation, as nearly as I could tell. (I didn't understand it all.)

And the British couple (she actually South African and he born in Germany) I first met on a streetcorner in Quedlinburg. I spoke to them when I heard them speaking English and I commented that I thought we were the only English-speaking people in town. We later met in the main square and had a great conversation as we drank coffee and ate Eis.

And my favorite, though the briefest. I had ordered breakfast at a cafe in Schwábisch Hall, asking for "ein mittel-gekochtes Ei, " in my most grammatically perfect Deutsch, and the woman at the next table, obviously realizing I was a student at the Goethe Institute, gave me a big smile and said, "Gut gemacht!" That is "Well done!" I loved it!

My encounters became friends. A woman at a post office in Provence who heard us asking about a local B&B. The postman didn't know but this women did and asked us to follow her.
She was curious to meet the couple who own the B&b because one of her sons was hanging out with their daughter.After many plesantries(the place was booked but we did stay the following year)We eft when an invitastion for a pastis.
The husbandarrived a short time later and invited us for dinner the next night.We remain friends but the husband died the same year as my husband. Another encounter happened in the Vienne, we stopped for directions looking for a place to stay and this hunter with his dog said he was thinking of starting a B&B and invited us to stay and give ideas about his place

Agree! I've had some lovely interactions with people, been directed to some off-the-beaten-trail places that I might never have known existed, and experienced truly kind helpfulness from strangers. And I think (hope) I've been forgiven for some of the unintended moments when something I did might have caused offense if locals didn't know I wasn't accustomed to their social norms.

I still think about this older man on a train from Barcelona.
He spoke French, some Spanish and a little Eng. I speak Eng and a little Spanish. We were old friends who had just met.

Fortunately for us, my husband speaks French, his wife spoke Spanish and really fortunately our spouses understood how this could happen to us and were happy to help us communicate.

A wonderful German woman who let me practice my horrible German on her while she practiced English on me. We had a pleasent afternoon. We exchanged addresses to write and I run across her address now and again. I've never written.

Pegontheroad - it might not be unreasonable to post a link to this thread on the thread posted by the most recent how-not-to-look-like-a-toursit thread. Your choice!

why? not the same subject?

So, I'm standing on a street corner in Helsinki munching on a croissant and sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup watching the commuters headed for work.

A woman comes up to me and asks something in halting Finnish.

With my best accent, I reply in Finnish that I don;t speak the language.

She says, "Oh dear. I always pick the wrong people".

Fortunately, a passerby stopped and helped her.

((I))