Yesterday, I was waiting to cross a fairly busy street.  The light had just turned red.  I had been at school and was crossing to go and get a coffee and banitsa to kill 90 minutes until a 4pm meeting.  This is when a little old woman starts talking to me.

She has her hair back in a scarf and maybe comes up to my shoulder--maybe--and I have no idea what she is saying to me.  I tell her in Bulgarian that I only speak a little Bulgarian.  This doesn't seem to phase her and she continues talking to me.  Unlike other people, she doesn't slow down or talk louder.  She just keeps talking to me.  I tell her once that I don't understand.  When she continues talking to me, I wonder if I haven't said correctly that I don't understand.

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So I tell her in Bulgarian that I am from America and I am a teacher of English at that school (and point).  And yes, she continues to talk to me! About this time, she also takes hold of my hand and given what I think I understand of our "conversation," she wants me to help her across the street.  The light changes and I help her across the street very slowly. All the while she is still talking to me.  Although the more apt description may be that she is talking <em>at me</em>. And by the time we are across the street I like her all the more for it.

She knows exactly what she wants: me to help her cross the street.  So she talks to me, takes my arm and I walk across the street with her because frankly I don't have another option--it's not like I am going to leave her there on the corner.

On the other side of the street, I tell her have a nice day and she says the same to me.  It's the first time in the five or so minutes that we've been "talking" that it's clear to me that we are on the same page.  I walk down the block to cross another street and she continues on her way, slowly.  Standing there watching her, it makes me wonder if I should have invited her to have a coffee with me.  This is one of the things that I am able to do after my three week Bulgarian language class. (And, I think that I could get to coffees, two bottles of water and two banitsa for the same price as one grande mocha at Starbucks!!)

She hasn't gotten far so I could go back and ask but I don't. My mother has never warned me about meeting old women on the street but I've heard plenty about meeting and talking to strangers so I go on with my day.  At the cafe, much to my delight I realize that I've become a regular.  The woman waiting on me is older and she smiles and speaks slowly to me, which I appreciate more than she probably knows, and asks me if I want my coffee for here or in a plastic cup.  For here I tell her and that is that!

Thinking about it now, it's hard to say what I should have done--ask this woman to have coffee with me or not.  It was a chance encounter--it might have been really interesting or at least very funny given my limited Bulgarian and her love of talking.  Anyhow, the only thing I can do now is write about the experience and hope that she made it home okay.