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I hitch-hiked my way along. I walked for dozens of miles, slept in train stations and ate at roadside diners. I was stopped by police a couple of times, but I managed to convince them that I was going to Nuremberg or Dresden to my beloved grandmother. Once, I almost ran into a gang of skinheads. I ran away very fast.

At the end of my fifth day of travelling, I was somewhere between Austria, Germany and the Czech Republic. Hooray to the united Europe! I was walking along a country road that ran through vineyards. The sun was setting, and I was thinking of a shelter for the night. When I noticed a building on a hill in the distance. It was small, one story, and painted burgundy. I walked closer and saw there was a man in the yard. He stood with his back to me, cutting his roses.

“Good evening” I said to him in German.

“Good evening” he replied as he turned and looked at me.

I think he may have smiled, but I’m still not sure. The man was not very tall, well-built, and about 50 years old. His short dark hair was greying, and he had piercing blue husky-dog eyes.