Things are always friendly there and simple. People greet one another cheerily and get cheery greetings back. They say "excuse me" and "I'm sorry" if they make a mistake or bump you with their suitcase, and the person bumped says it is all right. They happily invite one another to parties and happily go. Or if the can;t go it is because they have some other place to go. They lend one another CDs, and older students tell new students what number room to go to to get forms signed. They are all from different countries. One girl is Japanese and lives in Paris. She e-mails with a boy from Brasilia and he e-mails with a Moroccan girl from Lyon. My teacher is Moroccan from Montmartre.
In my language book no one's parents are divorcing. No one is anorexic. No one is anti-social. No one schemes. They are like exchange students - outgoing and busy, cheerful what seems like all the time, in a primary color world ou il ne pleut pas. The bell on the baker's door jingles. Bonjour. Merci. Au revoir. In Paris they really do trot down early morning cobblestones clutching long thin loaves of bread under their arms. They really do.
No comments:
Post a Comment