First glance at the Amish
Digging into my memory bank, I remember the very first time I learnt or perhaps laid eyes on Amish people was when my husband and I started to look for a property. To be correct, I was the one being watched by an Amish girl.
We found a farm for sale on a newspaper and called to get a direction. The farm was located in the south of Columbus, taking almost 3 hours to get there. I remember we stopped at a small restaurant somewhere not far from Athens - a college town where students have a reputation of partying too much - and incidentally my advent drew an attention from people there. Every head turned and every pair of eyes stared at me as though I were an alien. They might have wondered which planet I came from, I jokingly thought to myself. Their gazing didn’t intimidate me, though. Looking straight into their eyes with a big smile on my face as usual, I said, “Hi, how’s it going?” and paid no attention to them. I was so starving that I could eat a horse. A waitress came to our table and next thing I knew I heard someone sitting next to us ask, “Where are you folks from?” “We’re from Columbus”, one of us replied. And a friendly conversation flew in from every direction. These people were very nice even though they seemed to be a little bit too inquisitive at first. They gave us a clear direction how to reach the property we came to see. Bless their hearts.
We arrived at the property around 2 in the afternoon. In front of us were a two-story wooded house and a gigantic beat-up barn on the right hand side. The smell of cow manure hit me as soon as I opened the car door. It was so strong that I coughed. Then we were greeted by an old gentleman, wearing denim trousers with suspenders, a broadcloth long-sleeve shirt and a straw hat. His long beard and a bowl cut hair-style made him look so different than anybody I had ever seen in my entire being. *** Confession - I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I did exactly the same as those people from the restaurant; that is, to stare at him.*** As plain as he looked, there was something mysterious about him. I stared at him for a full minute. Realizing it was rude to do so, I looked away. There was a slightly energy transported directly to me and I could feel it. I sensed that I was being watched; therefore, I turned to that direction immediately. Sitting on a corner of a large and open living room was a young Amish lady - couldn’t tell exactly how old she was. She gazed at me with curiosity and our eyes met for a quick moment before she pretended to carry on with her sewing. She had blond hair tugging under her white cape; her light blue eyes looked innocent but stunning. She blushed as she knew she got caught. A masterpiece, the real and natural beauty I had ever seen in a woman, imprinted in my memory. We finally exchanged our smiles before I followed my husband and the old Amish gentleman to a basement area where that Amish family normally bathed. The house didn’t have an indoor plumbing.
“I have to go potty.” My husband responded, “They don’t have a bathroom but outhouse.
“What on earth is outhouse?”, asked I.
—To be continued -:)