The conductor, a pudgy man with a big mustache, reached for his ticket book. "HO-Bahnhof." He corrected my pronunciation once again. The day before I had said, "HO-Bahnhof."The conductor had said, "Hauptbahnhof,"
This was an ongoing battle every mornings between the ho and the haupt as I coomuted to Kelley Barracks where I was enrolled in an intensive German class.
Between the Kelley Barracks stop and the base there was a farm I had to walk through. As a child with pictures of farms in my kid books, I'd thought of them as having sweet-smelling hay odors. There's nothing sweet-smelling about manure.
Inside the base, each morning I had time to stop at the snack bar for a doughnut and coffee. I was never a coffee drinker, but I loved the aroma that just set off the taste of the doughnut.
The classroom was in the same building as where the Army Band, my husband's unit, was. The cafeteria, PX and library were also located there.
I was the only woman and the only civilian. The books were green. No English was to be used. Our instructor was a Spec 4 and held an M.A. in English literature from the University of Chicago. Despite being bald, he was cute and charismatic.
I had interrupted my studies to marry my husband. I hadn't wanted to but pressure from my mother to break my engagement left me little choice if I wanted to make my life with him.The bonus was getting to accomplish my life-long dream of living in Europe, a bonus. His orders for Stuttgart came down three days after our marriage.
My class often ended before my husband's duty. I would head for the library. What a relief I felt when I discovered a more than adequate library. I had worried about what I would read for even as a teenager I always had a book fanatic.
The instructor would come to the library with me, for he ate books as I did. He made recommendations on books that I would study when I finally went back to school to finish my degree. It did give me a leg up when I finally made it back to my university. Our conversations were in English. They also covered current books, politics, food--everything imaginable.
The lessons themselves were fun. Now, as a woman of the third age, (troiseme age in French) I am trying to bring back my German with the Rosetta. It would go faster if I worked as hard as I had back in Stuttgart. It was fun being the only girl, for at 20 I was still finding hard to think of myself as a woman. Borderline adult was probably closer.
About half way through the course as I grew more comfortable speaking German. One morning in hopping on the Strassenbahn, the same Ho-Haupt conductor that I saw most mornings. Before he could say anything, I said, Ho oder Hauptbahnhof.
He stared at me for a second, than laughed. I laughed too.
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1 comment:
Fascinating story! Would love to read more.
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