Nuremberg Tour 31
Our entire unit will cover ten kilometers of front line, from Eslarn in the north to Stadlern in the south. Our group, headed by Farzana, will be at a small post east of Dietersdorf, a small village just two klicks from the border.
As we roll through forest and small impoverished villages, it is exactly as our briefing indicated. No industry at all. Almost no young people. The few elementary children are bussed away every day; high school kids live in residence Monday to Friday in Nuremberg.
The mainstay is retirement, of the low budget variety. You can buy or rent dirt cheap. Still, it is not for the faint of health, as German government health facilities are almost totally lacking.
Our driver, German, cheerfully offers to wait while we check out the Dietersdorf general store. It's the size of a living room in a Canadian one bedroom apartment.
The only publication for sale is Bild, the tabloid aimed at the working class, another indicator economics are not good here.
Most people choose two or three varieties of German cigarettes to try, as they have heard they are better than Canadian; plus candy.
I select Bild, German gumdrop candies and a jar of the wonderful Darbo wild raspberry jam, things I've encountered in the import store in Canada.
The lady running the store is probably seventy, but strong and healthy looking. She recognizes Farzana from the last tour and they exchange pleasantries. She's quite polite and friendly with all the soldiers.
When it comes my turn, I really get the royal treatment. Looking back, it's easy to see why. I'm the only one buying the newspaper, so presumably I can read it. Add in my choice of purchases shows some knowledge of product and my German looks.
She gushes, "you look so much like my granddaughter, doing computer graphics work in Berlin. She's a bit bigger, mind you." Her eye falls on my name tag and her friendly comments do not cease, nor does her face register any distaste.
After several minutes of conversation, she has restored some of my faith in the world and I ask her at what time Bild arrives each day.
As we roll through forest and small impoverished villages, it is exactly as our briefing indicated. No industry at all. Almost no young people. The few elementary children are bussed away every day; high school kids live in residence Monday to Friday in Nuremberg.
The mainstay is retirement, of the low budget variety. You can buy or rent dirt cheap. Still, it is not for the faint of health, as German government health facilities are almost totally lacking.
Our driver, German, cheerfully offers to wait while we check out the Dietersdorf general store. It's the size of a living room in a Canadian one bedroom apartment.
The only publication for sale is Bild, the tabloid aimed at the working class, another indicator economics are not good here.
Most people choose two or three varieties of German cigarettes to try, as they have heard they are better than Canadian; plus candy.
I select Bild, German gumdrop candies and a jar of the wonderful Darbo wild raspberry jam, things I've encountered in the import store in Canada.
The lady running the store is probably seventy, but strong and healthy looking. She recognizes Farzana from the last tour and they exchange pleasantries. She's quite polite and friendly with all the soldiers.
When it comes my turn, I really get the royal treatment. Looking back, it's easy to see why. I'm the only one buying the newspaper, so presumably I can read it. Add in my choice of purchases shows some knowledge of product and my German looks.
She gushes, "you look so much like my granddaughter, doing computer graphics work in Berlin. She's a bit bigger, mind you." Her eye falls on my name tag and her friendly comments do not cease, nor does her face register any distaste.
After several minutes of conversation, she has restored some of my faith in the world and I ask her at what time Bild arrives each day.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 12:14 PM
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