Yesterday was a bad day. I don't know what happened but by the end of it, I was really sick. I met an older couple from Chicago, Mr. and Mrs. Burton, on the train and they took an instant liking to me. I reminded her of her daughter, she said. No way would she condone her daughter traveling around Europe alone. What was I thinking? Didn't I know about the dangers?
When we arrived at the train station, they said they wanted to take me to lunch. They must be rich because I have never eaten in a place that nice. The tables were covered with white linen table clothes and fine China and the waiters hovered over us in case we needed anything. I was self-conscious because I was wearing jeans--the same ones since I'd left home. I followed their movements to see which fork to use and when, and I kept reminding myself to keep my elbows off the table. If I messed up, they didn't notice. They accepted me, dirty jeans and all.
During the meal, Mrs. Burton said my cough did not sound good to her, so she dug some pills out of her purse and gave them to me with instructions to drink them with plenty of water.
The Burtons paid $15 for a taxi to take us around the city so we could see the sights (extravagant), but as the day went on, I kept feeling worse, so I came back to my room at the hotel and just went to bed. They came by to bring me food, along with more lectures about the dangers of traveling alone. She gave me a small container with a thick lotion in it--it smells terrible--and told me to rub it all over my chest to break up the congestion. She's so worried about me.
Today I am spending the day in bed.
The Burtons came by again and brought me more food. She left me more pills and made me promise I would take them.
Thursday I'm leaving for a quaint village in Germany: Wurzburg. The Burtons want to take me out to eat and see me off at the train station.
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