Two Stories

I have a few stories for you. Story No. 1 : Sprechen Sie Englisch?

Some nice young man just came up to where I'm sitting fiddling around on Mac, and started speaking to me in rapid-fire German.
Here is what I do when I hear rapid-fire German:
1. I don't interrupt (even to tell them I don't understand; it seems rude).
2. I try to erase the deer-in-headlights look I know is probably plastered on my face
3. I throw in a few nods for good measure
4. I try to pick out words I actually recognize to see if I can get a general grasp
5. When the person finishes, I give a little laugh to see if he/she was just quipping. If they look confused, I set in with the "Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

Anyway, it turns out that the poor guy just wanted to know if there is a place where he can smoke indoors.

Story No. 2: Karma's a...Well, You Know

Ever since I've left America, I've been finding money. This, I realize, is a strange concept coming from someone who is horribly unlucky at cards, someone who is a terribly distracted driver, and someone to whom generally ridiculous things always seem to happen (ex: getting pooped on by a pigeon whilst in Venice. Don't make me tell that story, please).

But, despite the various scientific arguments against my newfound lucky streak, there it was all the same. In the Toronto airport, on my very first day of travel, I found about $10 of Canadian money lying on the floor. In Venice, I found a 5 Euro bill drifting between walkers' feet on the sidewalk. In Berlin, I found 15 cents lodged between cobblestones at the zoo.

Before you ask me to buy your next lottery ticket, let me tell you what happened to me this morning. I went for a run (yes, yes, still working on that. I want to do a 5K in the spring with my Mom and sister, so I have an actual goal now). Before going for said run, I stuffed a 20 Euro bill in my shoe, thinking I could stop at the grocery store on my way back (the Special K addiction marches on). You already know where this is going, don't you?

When I got to the grocery store, so very excited at the prospect of cereal and milk for breakfast instead of the Nutella-smeared toast they offer at hostels, I bent down to retrieve my cash, only to discover that it was gone. It had fallen out somewhere along my route. Although it was a windy day, and although there had been dozens of other people biking/walking the same path as me, I still went back to look.

No luck, dear readers. I can only attempt to console myself by viewing this as a mere $4.85 loss. Doesn't help much (I really, really, wanted that cereal).