Chapter 2: Concerning the Germans

... In which our heroine eases indolence and has a strange encounter.

After a weekend of heavy drinking and semi-starvation due to resulting hangovers, A slumped on Sunday into a state of extreme idleness, verging on lethargy. She did not shower, nor did she in fact ever remove her pajamas. It's an interesting thing when one reaches a point so lazy that one actually becomes too lazy to eat. Impossible! you may cry, lolling and eating go hand in hand, dancing through the daisies (November daisies, mind), singing tra la la! Well, certainly then, you have never been so lazy as A has been just recently. To move her from bed and force feed her a bit of chop was an effort of extreme will on the part of her family.
However, all was not lost -- resolving not to slip into a state of permanent vegetation, A woke herself early the next morning, performed her ablutions, and went out for a bit of a jaunt in Englischer Gardens, carrying with her her faithful notebook, in case the glorious sun shining through the leaves should strike a chord, which indeed it did. She made her way to the highest point of the gardens and sat on the steps of the monument there looking out on a field of thick grass. 'The last time I saw this,' she thought, 'How young I was, and naive. It was May, and there were naked people lying on the grass bathing in the sun.' This Monday morning, though --instead of semi-nude students-- joggers and strollers were bundled up agains the cold, and puppies with big paws and uneven gaits frolicked with eachother in the open field. It was as incredible as she remembered, she could almost see her own dog jumping through the streams. Thus inspired, she took out her notebook, and began to write.
She had not been there fifteen minutes, writing away, when a woman of about thirty-five in red windbreaker, gloves and headband stopped near her. A smiled pleasantly, and the woman, responding said, "Enschuldigung..." followed by a lot of German in which she gestured to the stone steps upon which A sat. My goodness, thought A, does she mean perhaps that people are in the habit of urinating on these steps, and that I should not sit here? They'd looked perfectly clean when she had sat down. Smiling still, she shook her head at the woman.
"I'm sorry," she said. "English."
"Ah," said the woman, taking a moment to think, and then coming out with perfect English: "I am concerned because you sit on these stones, and they are very cold." She looked expectantly at A, as the implication tried to lodge itself in A's brain -- she was not quite sure she'd understood. Frostbite? Hemmorhoids? or... egads perish the thought. A began to get a bit panicky, what did this woman know about cold stones that she did not? Still maintaining a friendly expression, A said: "Well I haven't been sitting here long."
"Excuse me for saying this," said the woman, nodding and smiling.
"No no, it's okay," said A, thoroughly puzzled.
When the woman had passed out of sight, A waited a few more moments and then got up off the seat. What should she do? Should she run home and perform some remedial bun-warming? Admittedly she was cold, but, yes... yes... she hadn't lost any feeling. She walked home, feeling aware as never before, of every movement of her bottom. Still, all felt as it should. When she got back to the apartment, the hilarity of the situation finally hit her. Never in her entire life had a complete stranger stopped to express their concern about the well being of her bum (well, not a female stranger anyway, and not with sincere concern...). She was sure (she hoped) that it would never again be repeated. Just another once-in-a-lifetime experience she was gaining in her travels...

Cheers.