Sunday evening:

It's six-thirty p.m. The market square is all but deserted, save for a few idle humans, out enjoying the evening air. An anxious-looking, twenty-something male strides across the quiet flagstone expanse, eyeing the perimeters for any sign of a particular group of individuals. No sign for the moment, but he stays alert for any sudden arrivals. He stakes out a strategic bench and settles in to wait and watch. Minutes tick by. A brazen city crow passes by within a metre of the young man, searching for anything edible in the cracks of the pavement. The man watches it from behind slitted eyelids. He sighs in agitation and returns to his vigil. After several more moments, he abruptly gets up and walks in the main direction of his expectant gaze. The individuals he seeks are nowhere in sight, but he makes his way purposefully, turning into the way between a terraced bar and an athletic goods store. He has almost reached the street beyond when his face brightens -- two young women and four girls carrying backpacks and dressed in identical dark blue shirts and blue-and-yellow striped bandannas have rounded the corner.

"You're late," the young man observes, grinning.

One of the leaders, a self-assured brunette, points to her watch. "You were late this morning," she retorts, "fifteen minutes. Now, we arrive fifteen minutes late, so --"

"So we're even," he laughs. "Right. OK, follow me, guys." He turns back, now with a noticeable easy spring in his step. Their destination lies close by, just across a parking lot and another street, in a modest four-storey apartment block. The girls chatter happily in German the whole way. At the door, the young man opens it and lets the girls file past into the dim interior of the building.

"It's on the second floor," he says, "on the left."

The group, with its heavy packs, marches slowly up the stairs while the young man rushes past. He turns left...

... where stacks of boxes, containers, bags, and a huge suitcase line one entire wall of the corridor.

"Don't mind the stuff," he says cheerfully. "I didn't have time to take it up to the attic. I was pretty rushed cleaning up...."

------------------------------------------

OK, so I didn't quite pull off the impossible. Lego in the hallway, a sizeable fraction of the dust still lingering in the apartment, dishes unwashed... but gosh, if you'd seen what it was like before I started, you just might understand. Seriously.

I admit it: I'm a slave to order. I simply did not have it in me to just throw everything randomly together and stick it out of sight. That would only multiply the complexity of the job I would still have to do at some point in the future, getting those mountains of itty-bitty Lego bits all sorted out. So the lion's share of my time had gone into putting them away without sacrificing any of the work done so far. MOCing is a chaotic business -- those of us with experience know what an extended session will do to even the best-organized parts collection. It's more than chaos, actually: it's all-out war, in a certain sense. And so this was a case of cleaning up the aftermath of that war. A dirty job, but it's got to be done. I'm just thankful for the time pressure I was in -- there's no other way I could have done it so fast.

------------------------------------------

The girls are unfazed by the dust bunnies lurking in the corners -- they're Scouts, after all, used to the gloriously unsterile outdoors. The state of the kitchen is a slight disappointment, but their host, yours truly, makes quick work of the cluttered sink, and soon has a potful of water boiling on the stove. On the evening's menu is rice 'n' Scheiss, a risotto version of mulligan stew. The recipe is simple: cook rice, add Scheiss, and spice to taste. Scheissen just means whatever vegetables and meats happen to be available. The shopping contingent has supplied carrots, baby corn, peas, and zucchini. No meat, but fortunately for me, I'm vegetarian to begin with. It promises to be a delicious meal.

After some time of the girls preparing the food and me trying not to be in the way (mine is a pitifully tiny kitchen) while washing dishes, darting around the apartment with a dust rag, fetching this and that, and occasionally adding my own little bits of help and advice (don't mean to brag, but I have been known to produce some impressive culinary opera -- not that I always have a clue what I'm doing, I just follow my gut feeling), the food is finally done.

Having set the (imaginary) table, the girls sit in a ring on the floor and link pinkie fingers all around, leaving a space for me between Lisa and Jenny. It's clearly an established ritual, and I take my place with no small sense of self-irony. Wide-eyed with curiosity, I wait to see what happens next. Lisa begins to sing, and soon the rest join in: it's the German Girl Scout dinner song! How cool is that?

Song sung, we dig in. Everyone spices their portion to individual tastes. Jenny blankets hers with ketchup.

"Isn't that a bit too much ketchup?" I tease.

"Too much ketchup?" she asks. "More like too much rice!"

I prefer turmeric, myself. As part of a suitable mix of spices, it's even better than curry. I can't use just one spice, I always mix a bunch. Food's more interesting that way. (Yes, I know curry's a mixture, too, but pre-made mixtures just aren't the same.)

After dinner, we split up into different activities. Washing-up duty goes to the girl whose turn it happens to be. I set up the Internet, which draws most of the girls into a huddle around the computer. Jenny and Lisa I attempt to entertain with old photographs.

Sometime after nine o'clock, I commandeer the computer. It's time for some mindless, spectacular Hollywood entertainment, together with gratuitous amounts of toxic, delicious candy.

The DVD I've picked up in the afternoon is Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. All my own DVD movies are either too serious (Hotel Rwanda), too macho (xXx: The Next Level), or too geeky (Legends of Metru Nui, LOL) for this crowd. As a popcorn flick, World's End is smashing great fun. (As long as you keep the old grey cell activity to a minimum, of course. The buzz from ingesting a steady dose of mixed bulk sweets is especially conducive to maintaining the optimum state of mind.)

By the time the final credits roll, it's almost midnight. After fast-forwarding to watch the post-credits bonus scene, my guests prepare to leave. I'm a bit disappointed in myself for not having come up with any more original way to pass the evening than with the movie, but I don't show it. The truth is, they've made this weekend one that I will never forget, and it's been all good. I thank the girls for their wonderful cooking and engaging company. They've all signed my guest book, and at Jenny's request, I add my name and address to their collection. Their grand trans-European adventure continues in the morning as they go to a big Girl Scouts meeting type thingie in my birthplace, the city of Jyväskylä. We wish each other a good night and the best of luck.

And that's the story of my unusual encounter. Thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you in the comments!

-BC