The Tone in Dresden, Part III

As we worked our way through the suburbs of Dresden, the view was less than inspiring. All around us was the rusting wreckage of Soviet era industry. Dilapidated buildings full of frozen machinery simply walked away from by its workers once the State no longer existed to prop it up. My memory of much of the ground that showed through snow appeared in rude shades of red and yellow, mirroring the shades of the forgotten steel trusses and tanks, now sitting disused and fenced off from hapless passers by. It was obvious that it would take years to clean up. If any one could do it well however, I had faith in the ability and efficiency of the Germans.

Once the outskirts had been successfully pasted, we drove to the heart of Dresden. Well, Perhaps, “heart” isn’t quite right… The lungs, then. We had to meet up with Carla’s friend, Laura. The place scheduled for our meeting was one of the beautiful stone churches that punctuated the cityscape. Old and massive, our meeting place loomed against the grey skyline and we piled out of the car, unfolding long bent legs and backs.

“So, where are we meeting her exactly?” I asked.
“Hmmm.” Carla thought for a moment. “I didn’t ever really specify a place. I just told her to meet us at the church.”

I can see how this could sound like a good plan but there is one thing to consider. These churches are huge! Dozens of people milled around the square in front of the church and since our new travel companion wasn’t quickly spotted, we decide to go looking. Mountain Man had met Laura once and so I went off with him while Carla went off alone to search. True to form, once Carla was out of sight, Mountain Man threw me a curve ball.

“I don’t really remember what Laura looks like.”
“Eh? Then what good are we going to be? There’s not much we can do, then.” I retorted.
He looked back at me with his big, goofy smile. “Let’s just ask around. One of them must be Laura.”

So, the two of us walked around the church asking young woman if they were Laura. In retrospect, I’m more than a little amazed that we didn’t get questioned by the police. After only a little while, we were rewarded for our persistence when we did, in fact, find Laura. Well, actually, it was “a woman named Laura”, but not “OUR” Laura. A brief and somewhat confused conversation with the indulging lady and we figured out that she was not the Laura we were looking for. Just as we were completing our apologies and goodbyes with Laura #1, Carla appeared with Laura #2. The correct Laura had been found.

After a round of introductions, and a brief flurry of chitchat in auf deutsch, Laura noticed that I wasn’t joining in the conversation. Once informed that I didn’t speak German, she quickly switched to a very nice, upper class British English. As it turned out, that was no hardship for her. She was, as it turned out, English. Her father was in the British military and had been stationed in Germany, where the family lived during most of her young life. Later on she explained that she’d actually spent more time here than she dad in England.

Carla knew of a place we could all stay for cheap in the out skirts of the city. Technically, it wasn’t even in Dresden but in a town called Pirna. As we passed back through some of the old industrial wreckage, Carla told us about the way it was when she grew up here.

“The city was still a mess. There were bombed out buildings everywhere, left over from the war. The Russians didn’t foster fixing the old buildings, too much. Most of the programs were about new construction. Giant apartment blocks and manufacturing complexes. For fun after school, my friends and I would go and dig through the old ruins, looking for treasures. All the industry made the air here filthy. My father worked in one of these plants and I, for one, am not sad to see them closed. They were awful.”

As the story ended, we pulled into a parking lot. Looming over us was the quintessential Soviet era hostelry. It was a mustard colored block with windows and a door. Once inside, the décor did not change much. The best parts were the goodies being sold at the check in counter. They were still trying to sell off the last of their DDR flavored memorabilia. Key chains, patched and stickers did their best to evoke pride in a cast off and failed system. Happily, I bought some to stick on my truck and confuse folks back home.

After check in, we stowed our stuff and headed out on the town. This is where things start to get fuzzy for me. It was late in the day by now and we were getting hungry and thirsty. The hunger was taken care of at a Chinese restaurant that Carla knew of. The thirst was taken care of at a variety of venues. As the evening wore on, Carla informed us that she was going to be heading along. This wasn’t a surprise. She had told us earlier that her mother lived in Dresden and she was going to be spending the night with her. We wished her good by and made plans to meet tomorrow. As she walked away from our little group, I increasingly became aware that none of us left knew what to do next. Laura didn’t know Dresden very well and Mountain Man and I, not at all. So, we did what we could. We had another beer.

Once we realized that we needed to get back to the hostel and had completed a chilly “sober up” walk, we encountered another problem. None of us were sure where Pirna was. After a quick and lively discussion, we started to drive in the direction of consensus. It was not a sure thing, by any stretch. Three sets of eyes swept the road signs in the hopes of finding the breadcrumbs that would lead us home. Nothing… Not good.

“A-Ha! There we go!” It was Laura.
“What? Where!?” Mountain Man and I shot forward in our seats and scanned the dark roadsides.
She triumphantly declared, “The car in front of us! They’re from Pirna! We’ll just follow them!”

Either she was joking, had an unbelievable memory for cars or knew something I didn’t. Which ever it was, I wasn’t the one driving so the choice to take the next exit wasn’t mine. At least I had the back seat to my self. That would be comfortable enough to seep on.

Next, I actually get to the city!

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2 Responses

  1. TP, duuude, it would seem to me that the obvious thing to do as she walked away and you realized you had no idea of the location of your hotel, would have been to run after her, not, I repeat with emphasis, NOT have another beer.

    Bah! Where’s the fun in THAT? Besides, I got to have another beer! It was a win/win! Actually, since I was the one who was the most “out of it” being the non-german speaker, I assumed that the others had an idea of where we were going. As it turns out, assumptions can be risky. 😉
    -TP

  2. Great story!
    I suppose the car in front had an “I Love Pirna” or maybe a “Purna sausage is the Wurst” sticker on it.

    Heh! Just you wait!
    -TP

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