Me Foreigner

When I was in India, there were many marchers from south of France. I enjoyed their company and tried to speak with them in French. But after a few attempts, we determined that I did not speak French.

So now in Paris, people are speaking French everywhere. Surprisingly, I sometimes get the gist of what they are saying. I feel that all my French would return if I stayed here for a few months. Yet, I can't utter a word in French right now. I've tried. People turn to me with a quizzical look and say, "Pardon?" Or they blurt out something incomprehensible and I think, Better not encourage talk. I can't deliver in this language. I can only nod and smile so much without looking insincere.

Walking around, The Man and I ran into a young man asking us for directions to the supermarket. I would not have believed this man was not native French, he articulated his words so flawlessly, though slowly. He told us he was Spanish. I think if I could string my French words together as musically, I would try harder to speak French. But for now, I am just listening to the sounds around me and trying to acclimatize to my new environment.

It's interesting to see The Exchange operate in his native land. He's more confident and casual. I think he's more macho, though he denies it. The Man surprises me with his French. He's always said he's fluent in French but sometimes I wonder. His translations don't always translate. But now I see him communicating with the French. He understands them. They understand him. Transactions take place. Requests are met. It's amazing. It's a whole side of him I've never seen before. These are the kind of things that keep our marriage fresh.

I am in a part of Paris that is not familiar to me. I can't decide whether that's because I really have never been in this part of town before, or whether it's because I have poor long-term memory and I just don't remember past visits to Paris. The streets are clean and well lit at night. Well-heeled elderly women walk alone with confidence. Cars are parked everywhere, on both sides of the street. Cars easily back up on one way streets or take their time unloading passengers even if many cars are lined up behind. No one has been rude enough to honk. I am glad I am not driving here. Not only do I honk, I shout obscenities at people who block my way. But that's another story.