As the summer in Germany at the Betzold home progressed, I would borrow Jutta’s Fiat to take little sight-seeing trips on weekends. Once, I took the kids to the zoo. I could ride my bike to play with Der Erste Fussball Klub Nürnberg where my style of playing goalie was novel to them. On several weekends the whole family would drive down to Ammersee southwest of Munich where Herr Betzold kept his 5,5-meter Star Boat sailboat, and the two of us would race in regatta.
One time, as I was relaxing on the boat, I observed an airliner flying West, and I got homesick. So, I told Herr Betzold and the family that I thought I wanted to return to the USA. Herr Betzold said he did want me to go. He promised to buy a “Raupe” (Caterpillar bulldozer) for me to work with on the next site. He pointed out I hadn’t taken my vacation yet.
So, I took a 2-week vacation. I bought an Eurail Pass, a ticket that lasted for 2 weeks and allowed me to travel all over Europe for one price. My idea was that I could take the night trains between locations to avoid the expense of a hotel stay and zig zag my way down to Luzerne. My first overnighter took me all the way to Rome. I stored my bag at the station and struck off to find a bus tour of the ancient city. My plan was to return in the evening, get back on the train and go overnight to Zurich, then a short train ride to Luzerne. Well, there was no bus tour in the time frame that I had available, so I struck out to just walk around Rome until it was time to get back on the train.
I found my way to the Coliseum and the Forum. From there I headed over to the area called the Circus. As I was walking along one side of what I thought had been a chariot racetrack, I could see a young woman in a white minidress walking on the other side, frequently glancing over her shoulder at two men who appeared to be following her. Sensing her distress, I crossed through the Circus and caught up with her just as she ducked inside a ruin called the Theatre, where other older tourists were reading the placards and milling about. As the young woman moved in one direction around the interior of the Theatre, I moved in the other direction, and just as the older couples were exiting the Theatre, the two men entered; I was close to the young woman. I asked her in English if she was afraid of the two men. To my surprise, she answered in English with a Spanish accent that, yes, she was. Now I’m a clean cut tall American kid and the two men were more likely European, older, and looked menacing. I offered to escort her back to wherever she felt safe, and she accepted. I offered her my arm and taking it, we left the Theatre with the two men eyeing us the whole way and likely trying to decide if they wanted to tangle with a 6’2” strapping Indiana farm boy. Luckily, they decided not to engage and left us alone.
On our way to her aunt’s villa near the Spanish Steps, Ana Fernandez and I became acquainted. She was the daughter of a Chilean businessman, in Rome to visit her aunt before joining friends in Sicily. Hearing my story, she invited me to dinner at her aunt’s. When we arrived, her aunt was overjoyed not only that the American had rescued little Ana, but also that I spoke some German, because she spoke German and had no one with whom to communicate in that language. And so, after dinner, I was invited to spend the night, and Ana invited me to join her in touring the Catacombs the next day. Without checking the train schedule, I said “Yes.” Ana and I rode a taxi back to the train station to collect my suitcase and spent the evening watching TV with auntie and getting to know each other better.
The next day and night were blissful. At the Catacombs, she chose the tour that was conducted in Spanish. It didn’t bother me at all not to understand what was being said, just being with her was exciting. Afterward, we ate and danced at a discotheque until we had to get back to the villa at a time that made the aunt happy, as did our discussion of the day’s events in Spanish and German. The next day at breakfast, Ana advised that she had to go meet friends in Sicily and that I was welcome to tag along. I was sorely tempted, but remembering my own agenda, we parted, vowing to stay in touch. I never heard from her again.
Back at the train station, I boarded the train for Zurich. The train was due to make a stop in Firenze and Pisa before overnighting to Zurich. As I stood by the windows watching the countryside slide by, I heard someone speaking English in another cabin. I walked in that direction to find a young woman talking and laughing with 3 older men. I stopped in the doorway and all eyes fell on me. I commented that I had heard English being spoken and that it sounded like music to my ears. The young woman said, “Hi! That was me!” After introductions in Italian and English I learned she was Geri Parisi, an Italian American visiting Italy and Europe for her summer vacation, provided by her uncle, who owned Enrico’s Green Tree Restaurant on Long Island. She was going to switch trains in Pisa and go to Monaco on the French Riviera. I asked if she spoke French; she did not. I asked if she would like to see Switzerland and that I spoke enough German to get us around there handily. We stopped for supper in Pisa and visited the Italian Riviera before subsequently boarding a train for Zurich.
We stayed at a hotel on Lake Luzerne, took a dinner/dancing cruise on the Lake, and spent a day calling all of the Hochstaedtlers in the phone book until we found one who said they knew my grandparents. My siblings and I had been told our forebears left Switzerland for religious freedom in the USA. The old woman we visited late one afternoon told me that the part of my family that emigrated to the States didn’t leave of their own volition so much as they were kicked out of the Mennonite community for being too liberal. Two ways of looking at the same thing, I guess.
Geri and I spent 4 days and nights together, but the time left on my Eurail Pass was coming to an end. I decided to return to Fischbach and went through a tearful goodbye as Geri relocated to a youth hostel in Luzerne to resume her travels alone the next day. I got as far as Zurich, but was heartsick, so throwing caution to the wind, I headed back to Luzerne and surprised Geri at supper time where we had a joyful reunion much to the dismay of a couple of English boys who had their eyes on her.
We weren’t allowed to stay together at the hostel, and by morning cooler heads prevailed. We parted again, thanking each other for a most marvelous and memorable trip through Italy and Switzerland.
After my return to Germany, I went back to work, but Fraulein Meier helped me finagle my return flight to America out of Frankfurt. In two weeks, I was on the ground at JFK airport in NYC, calling my mom to tell her that I was back in the states and heading for home. I dug the money out of my belt and returned to Indiana by bus.
Three months later I received a check from Herr Betzold that amounted to the money I had left in “my account” and a refund of the taxes I had paid but did not owe. It was $300.
The Betzold’s and I lost touch over the years. A couple of years ago, I Googled Heinz Betzold to find out that he had passed away, that Jutta and he had another child, and that all their children were grown, married, and had contributed to the growing family. I left a message attached to Herr Betzold’s obituary recounting my wonderful summer with them and inviting contact.
So, that was my adventure in Germany. I was so lucky! I shall never forget any of the people I came to know over there. And I have lots more stories to tell!
Inspired by the retelling of this experience, Russ again reached out to the Betzold family, and was able to contact Jutta and Heinz’s son. Johannes read and commented on Part 1 of the story. His mother, Jutta, still lives in the family home in the outskirts of Nuremberg.— Editors
Russ Hostetler found his calling as a physician while working in Conflict Management and Crisis Intervention as a Special Police Officer in Dayton Ohio after graduating from Ball State University with a degree in psychology. His medical career included faculty positions at two medical schools, directorships in three managed care settings and a consultative clinical practice in geriatrics. After retirement, he volunteered as a Senior Medical Officer in Marine Corp endurance events operations, is an active member of the Florida Department of Health Medical Reserve Corps, and is a Healthy Community Clinical Director for the Special Olympics. He enjoys building furniture, tennis, writing, cooking and baking, nursing his understanding of the German language, and being grandpa to several delightful children.
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