put up with my quest to find the Birkenstock factory outlet store near Bonn, Germany. It was about a day's journey out of our way. We got into Frankfurt around 8 a.m. on July 13, having left Detroit around 6 p.m. the night before. Fortunately we both slept on the flight over.
All I knew was that, somewhere in or near Bonn, there is a Birkenstock outlet store. I couldn't find an address for it although I'd googled over and over trying to find it. A couple of days before we left I finally found the address for Birkenstock's office in Bonn, so we stopped at a tourist info place in the airport and got directions to the place. It involved taking a (nice) train to Cologne, then another to Bonn, then a tram-type train as far as it went.
We got off a couple of exits too early and had no idea where we were or where to go. We asked some elderly ladies who were waiting for the bus, but they hadn't heard of it. (Not heard of Birkenstocks? They live in Germany for heaven's sake! That's like not knowing Nike or something like that over here.)
Just as I was trying to adjust to the idea that our vacation wasn't going to include a trip to Mecca, a tiny old lady spoke up and said that she knew where it was and told us to get back on the train, she was going to show us how to get there. We followed her to the train, got on, and rode to the end of the line. She then started walking, talking about how she'd moved back to Bonn after living in Berlin for 50 years with her husband. He had died ten years before and she'd moved back home.
We had to hustle to keep up with her as we crossed a bridge and reached a crossroad. She pointed the way we needed to go ("about 15-20 minutes"), said goodbye, and went on her way.
I wish I'd taken her picture and remembered her name. She was our introduction to Europe, and she made us feel almost like we were at home.
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