She's likely about 90 years old, with a hunched over walk and a toothless grin. She's the town's busybody, observing everyone and everything. Today, just like any other day, she chooses to pay Burg Wernfels and its visitors a visit. As I update my blog today she peers through the windowpane. I smile and acknowledge her presence while continuing to write, a hobby of mine that has been neglected of late.
Welcome to Wernfels, population 2. At least that's what it feels like. The town consists of a bakery, an ice cream shop, a restaurant, a sports field, and a farm. And, of course, the famous castle turned hostel, Burg Wernfels, the most popular youth hostel in Bavaria. This is where I've spent the past 2 weeks, working with young teens and trying to teach them English. I assume they learned a lot, but I've also learned so much about myself. This has been my opportunity to let go, be goofy and crazy, and make fun of myself a little bit; something that has always been difficult for me.
It's the weekend, the kids are gone, and now I'm back to my serious old self. Looking through the windowpane again, I notice that the old woman has disappeared.
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