Potsdam to Jüterbog

Today, I was overwhelmed by the generosity of a married couple who lives in Jüterbog. I was standing at an intersection trying to figure out the bike radweg way signs, which happens too often here in Germany. In this instance, there were two signs labeled Jüterbog pointing in different directions. Two people stopped by to help me. One was a city worker who gave me a brochure with a map. Another was a man who was going to Jüterbog who owned a bicycle shop. Up until that point, I had had easy, long stretches of pavement from Caputh to outside of Jüterbog. Both men told me it would not be that way up the road, and that I should take the Elbe Radweg.

After talking for a bit in our broken but fluent way, I decided to follow Marcel to Jüterbog. It is such a relaxing thing to just follow someone instead of fighting through miles on your own. He told me all about "his woman" and his children who were grown. In German, they use the same word for wife and woman, frau. He told me they were going to celebrate their silver anniversary soon and that she had a bakery next to the shop. What a perfect combination for a bicycle tourist...it's the beginning of a bike tourist mall for someone like me. It was very clear that they were very much in love.

I bought a new light from him, and he examined my bike. He brought me over to the bakery where I had pizza, cake, and a large cappuchino on the house. 

We joked through the words we knew of each other's languages. As I finished eating, unbeknowst to me, Marcel checked with his wife Simone to see if I could stay the night, sleeping in his daughter's room. I decided to stay with them. I felt adopted in a way by them

 It was 3:00 pm and his shop closed at 6:00. Jüterbog is 1000 years old, and I wandered the city to kill time. 

This was another city with a Medieval wall left as ruins around it. It had a lot of charm and children were running around the town too.

I was really overwhelmed by their willingness to welcome into their home, even feeding me dinner and breakfast. They would not let me help with anything. We talked about American music, especially Elvis, and about German food. The best line I think was that chicken nuggets are schnitzel. Also, American potato salad is really German potato salad.

The next day, Simone packed me a little lunch left over from breakfast and both her and Marcel insisted on giving me a ride with my bike to signs that would lead me to the Elberadweg, which I reached in Wittenberg. They seemed much too kind. I only hope that I can return the favor.