The first trip of my grandson, at that time 4 years old, and to me should be about 800 km long. Indeed, I also went with pleasure with the passenger car, but I wanted to put back a such long distance only with a small child quite comfortably by railroad. I had booked seats, so that we had to look while getting not long. The first hours of the journey passed fast and entertaining. My grandson was astonished how fast the scenery flew past to us, enjoyed itself with all kinds of delicacies and toys which I had wrapped up as a precaution and thus we were of good things. Then he became slowly tired, because we had got up quite early. He snuggled up on his seat together and had fast fallen asleep. Now I could put the nose, finally, in my book.

Shortly after the compartment door rose and two young men got on. They smiled at me friendly, greeted and sat down us towards. Then the men talked quietly and I read on. After a while I noted that my grandson woke up again. He opened the eyes, was still completely slept away at a moment and was disorientated a little bit and at the next moment he winced, tore open the eyes far, indicated at the men and shouted: " Grandma, there is my Bimbo! " There would be in mouse holes, I would have searched for myself as soon as possible one, so embarrassingly was to me the exclamation. And this came along on the one hand that one of the men was a black and owned on the other hand my grandson a children's book which he loved hotly and dearly in which a black boy called Bimbo was the central figure in Africa. Today there are not books in the kind maybe any more.

But this still came from my child time and there were black people just "Bimbo". Because we lived in the country, my grandson had never had in natura contact with black people and was more surprised the that his children's book hero sat now all at once in person before him. Before he could further talk now, I gave to drink something to him fast and excused me voluble with the men. Luckily both spoke excellent German and the appealed was not offended at all, but laughed. Thus we came to the conversation. He told that he lived in a city where his other skin colour did not strike any more so much. He had not experienced such a reaction, how those of my grandson yet. But he amused himself obviously about that. He said to my grandson that, unfortunately, he is not called Bimbo. But my grandson left not laxly. He absolutely wanted to know whether he knew Bimbo then. The man affirmed this question and now there was for my grandson to no more holds. He asked the man holes in the belly and he answered patiently all questions. I noticed very well that the man of the children's book had never belonged. How did he also have to go? But very much cleverly he steered the questions away from Africa and there to the life of black people in Germany. How turned out, he himself was born in Germany and never in Africa.

Not only my grandson, also I learnt during this railroad journey a lot. Our trip leant towards to the end. Both men went on a few more stations as us. Briefly before we had to get out, the black asked me whether I probably gave him my address. He would send to my grandson very much with pleasure a recollection which, as he found, well to this trip fitted. What it was, he did not want to betray. Indeed, in spite of the good entertainment which we had I was sceptical a little bit to give my address to a foreign person, however, might not say also no. In our destination the men still helped us with our luggage and we said goodbye warmly of each other.

In the following 2-week vacation my grandson spoke of our experience over and over again and was disappointed on return journey very much to have other fellow-passengers. Again at home, I thought at first hardly of the men, till 1 week later a package with the sender of the man arrived. Because my grandson should come the next day for visit, I left the package closed. The next day my grandson opened it to full tension. It contained a lifelike toys railway, a children's book over Africa, a snare drum and a letter. In this letter he thanked for the great travel company and wrote in the end that he was glad to get answer. He got that natural, from my grandson dictated and from me written. Now the whole is more than 20 years. For a long time my grandson writes his letters himself. A right friendship has originated. What would have escaped us if we had lined up this trip instead of by rail by the car.