UBERLICHTENPLATZSTRAßE

 3 January, 2016.            Buenos Aires, Argentina

In late July of 1973, I had just finished my second semester of German at UNO's summer school program in the beautiful city of Munich. The classes over, instead of coming back home to New Orleans for the rest of a long, hot summer, I continued my Grand Tour of Europe for 6½ more months.  

I had been traveling by train the better part of that day, and my next stop was the Alsatian city of Strasbourg, on the French/German border. I was sleepy and tired, and it was now nighttime when I emerged from the train station. 

It was a beautiful smaller city, but sightseeing would have to wait until tomorrow.

Now I needed to find lodging, and had an address of the local youth hostel. It bore a long name of "Uberlichtenplatzstraße!" 

Say that three times!

I did, in fact, repeat it aloud to myself over an over while I was still on the train, so as to be intelligible to whomever I was to ask directions, but aside from a few locals quickly and silently walking on the dimly-lit sidewalks in the distance, I was alone in the plaza. Ahead of me were the lights of a single tram, stopped and awaiting passengers, so I was happy because I believed I could get good directions to the place from the motorman. 

I boarded the tram through the open door and asked the driver about this place, and, for once, this gentleman, whose job it is is to get people to their destinations in the city, was stumped. He repeated the name back to me, just as I had said it, and I nodded, showing him the address as it appeared in my hostel guide.

He shook his head and told me he had never heard of the place — or the Platz, as it was in this case. A young couple in their mid-twenties, I'd say, was sitting in one of the front seats of the tram and, seeing my situation, the young man and lady tried to help as well, but they, too, had no idea where this could be. Hostels are notorious for being in obscure, out-of-the-way side streets. A flurry of discussions erupted on the tram, as a few others there kibitzed in the strange-sounding blend of French and German that is called "Strasbourgeoise."

Suddenly, this young man smiled and arose, and exited the tram, bidding me to accompany him. He walked me to a taxi that was waiting nearby, and asked the driver had he heard of this place, and he had. Unbelievably, the young fellow gave the driver some money and instructed him to take me there!!! 

I was dumbfounded!! I thanked him profusely, and we proceeded to the street of the Overlight Plaza, which is what that daunting, long German word meant. We soon arrived at the youth hostel, and, as I got out, the hostel manager came up to greet me. ———After all, it's not every day that youth hostel guests arrive in a cab!

As we walked inside, he looked at me suspiciously and asked me, in good English with a thick German accent: "Zo, you are staying in youth hostel, yet you come by TAXI??"

 

I smiled and replied: "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me!" 

Over coffee, I related the story, and the man smiled broadly, justifiably proud that someone from his city would do such a kindness. 

It is experiences like this that greatly effected my Weltanschauung.

(Weltanschauung is a German word that often is translated as “worldview” or “world outlook” but just as frequently is treated as a calque or left untranslated. A Weltanschauung is a comprehensive conception or theory of the world and the place of humanity within it.)