So far, I’ve been mistaken for being French, Dutch, German, and Australian. Unfortunately, the second I open my mouth all doubts vanish and it’s obvious what I am, “a Canadian, right?”
While I’m flattered as hell that people think I’m a foreigner, the downside is that they speak to me in their mother tongues, and I am forced to stare like a dumbstruck fangirl at a Jonas Brothers meet and greet. Berlin was no different. German’s aren’t too adept to speak in English from the start, but I’ve learned to manage. My grocery store interactions are as follows:
Them: *tells me my total in German*
Me: *Smiles and hands over the largest bill in my wallet, silently praying that they don’t ask me if I want my receipt printed or emailed*
While in Berlin, I befriended my three Spanish hostel mates. These boys are some of the goofiest people I’ve met, even considering the language barrier. They sang in the shower, sang in their bunks, and sang to me sweet goodnight lullabies. I came to the rescue for one of them because I have Photoshop on my laptop, and he desperately needed to complete a graphic design project for his work back home. “We’ll make you pizza,” he offered in exchange. I, for one, was sold.
My main reason for visiting Berlin was to see my favorite artist Jon Bellion in concert. I befriended someone in the comments of his Instagram post and Aiju and I decided to go to the concert together. She also found two others solo concert go-ers and they joined us as well. I soon found myself among three strangers, one from Finland, one from Poland, and one from Germany, at a bier garden, debating which song on the Glory Sound Prep album was the best. None of us knew each other an hour before the show, yet there we were singing and dancing to our favorite artist together. A concert is always better when you have people to enjoy it with.
During a day exploring, I walked through the Holocaust memorial, enjoyed the East Gallery art wall, and later found myself reading in a nearby park. I was soon approached by a middle-aged Nordic man that believed I was a German, asking for directions to a nearby monument. This man, who I’ve now come to know as Thor, is one hell of a character. For the life of me I can’t remember how our conversation began after that exchange, but it really took off. He detailed his travels in the states with his famous actress girlfriend. He was an extra in several of her movies and befriended a number of Hollywood A-listers, that was until he dumper her and was blacklisted from all future LA endeavors. Needless to say, Thor was crushed.
Since Thor was a stranger, he explained that he did not trust me yet, and who could blame him? He asked me to think of a number between 1 and 10. I thought of 7, and sure enough he knew my number. I could finally be trusted! Unprompted, Thor began reading my palms and explaining what each crease meant. I was to be rich at age 37, but not rich in money, rich in other ways (jury is still out on that one), flex my creative muscle at any chance I got, and sabotage all of my (many) romantic relationships, as if I wasn’t already aware.
Now, as much as I love talking about myself, I had my guard up with this strange red-bearded man. Was he trying to rob me? Flatter me? Or merely entertain a conversation with someone? I was just excited to have someone to talk to, and more importantly, someone to talk to about MYSELF.
Before you say I told you so, I’ll save you the breath. He tried to kiss me. *Record Scratch * I know what you’re thinking. How did I get myself into this situation? Was it all a long ploy to flirt with me? Given my body has the structural integrity of a crisp apple pie, I can’t blame him for shooting his shot. Without being rude, I quickly made it clear that I was not interested in his romantic pursuits. Thor was stunned. He hadn’t been turned down since his prom night, and now I proudly bear the honor. Platonically, Thor gave me his email (he’s OLD old) and asked to keep in touch. As strange as that interaction was, I’m considering writing him an email, mostly because I can’t remember the movie he was in and that’s the kind of content I need to know for my future best-selling novel.
That 30-minute conversation was incredibly weird and I still don’t really know what happened. Talking to strangers is fun and Thor has inspired me to write, but at what cost? Now I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing that I won’t be rich until I’m 37.
Here are some more pictures just for the hell of it.
Don’t worry guys, I’m fine. I’ll seeya when I seeya.