Story #2: Almost stranded

This note almost caused me, Josh, and Zoë to sleep on the sidewalk in the German town of Meissen on our fifth anniversary of marriage.

Josh plays this game when we visit the Netherlands where he sees how long it takes him to get his Dutch back to the point where natives will respond to his Dutch inquiries in Dutch instead of English. Josh has a great accent, but it usually takes most of our stay. Those Germanic countries know their English. And what could be more Germanic than Germany?

Not formerly East Germany!

Meissen is located just outside of Dresden, and though kids currently in high school speak some English, the predominant second language is Russian.

Here is the extent of my Russian: Babushka.

Now I had booked this hotel in Meissen on one of these sites that usually features international chains and the like. I was expecting something more or less corporate. Instead, our taxi driver dropped us off in the middle of a neighborhood filled with small shops--blocks and blocks of boxy storefront windows without an obvious hotel jutting into the street to advertise its presence.

Then, after finding the hotel, we found that the main door was locked. Taped to the inside of the window was the hand-scrawled sign above. And it would not have even registered with us that this sign might in any way be relevant to our situation were it not for our immensely good fortune of having run into Jesse and his German friend (a Meissen native) in the train station.

Jesse's friend read the sign, which turned out to be a note instructing us to go across the street and ask the owner of a certain cafe (who didn't speak English) for an envelope with our name and a key. The envelope ended up containing handwritten German instructions about the facilities and the owners' apologies that they were going to be out of town for the duration of our stay!

We're pretty resourceful travelers, but I can't imagine that we would have ever figured that all out on our own. And, again, baby in tow complicates everything.

I hate it when American travelers expect the world to speak their language, provide them with conveniences they're used to, and talk too loudly in the subway. But that day I learned that you can take Rachel out of America but you can't take the American out of Rachel (I've been watching too much 30 Rock. I'm channeling Kenneth). The next time I visit the former GDR, I'm bringing a lot more than useless English, Spanish, and Dutch with me.