Southern German tourists called me cowboy tourist!

Yesterday I left Jeannette's and boarded the train to the Barth. Or so I thought. She timed it that I had a quick connection in Bremer and had reservations for me and for my bike. The ticket agent to whom I was pointed (next time just go to the regular ones, the special ones run you around!) said 'I don't speak English, go to him' pointed me to the hall. That guy said 'you can't do this' I said 'Yes I can I already paid' so he said 'wait in line.' That guy was good, he printed my tickets but now the train was gone. Agh!! I pedaled around Bremen for 3 hours, ate German food, found out the ONLY German food I could find that the northern Germans eat is bratwurst and pommes fritz- French fries! Gee, I could get that at home! They were good, though. Went to a huge book store, went to my first European thrift shop, nice cloths, no books, all clothes!
On the train I met a nice couple from Stuttgart who were traveling by bike around where I now am, staying in hotels (lots of stars hotels!). When he heard I was biking some long days and would camp out if the weather was nice, he shook his head with a smile and said 'you are a cowboy! A Montana cowboy!' Finally made it to Rostock too late for the train to Barth. So I was up early this morn to bicycle there. The man who tore the map out of his book for me to use kept walking out the door to look at my bike, then shake his head and say 'it is many kilometers to Barth, many many kilometers.'
A couple hours into the ride, I had stopped for coffee, bought 2 bananas for €.92 and a liter of milk for €.42-hmmm!- and was on my way when the bike trail stopped. One is NOT allowed to bike on raods where a sign says don't, and I didn't want to be writing you all from prison. So I took the nice man's map and promptly doubled back on my route without knowing. When the road led through the forest, and I heard a chain saw, I followed the sound and found, 4 sawyers. Wow, just like home! They all watched me traipse into the woods where they were, I ask 'do you speak English?' 'a little'. So I ask about the road, showing him my map, and he responds all in German! (well, after all, he IS German!). He shows me the way out of 'the forest', and then I tell him I'm American. He smiles, I say Montana! and he really smiles, and I show him pictures of the book store and 'my house'. He was very happy, saying 'Ahh!' about the mountains and kept oohing and ahhing. I received another more detailed map for my efforts, and as I left he laughs and says 'American!' as he shakes his head. I tell ya, I couldn't've found 4 sawyers since I left home if you promised me a million bucks!
I finally made it to Barth and went straightaway to the memorial. It made me cry to think of Dad's time there, to think of the sadness of all those men. I wandered through the woods on a trail for quite a ways, and felt peace when I left the woods. No buildings remain, so it's hard to picture where everything was. However, I also went to an exhibit here in Barth about the camp, and there is a model of it. There is also a whole board commemorating Hubert Zemke of Missoula. Wow!
So now it's off to the Youth Hostel and to see what other trouble I can conjure up!