But first a vignette from O'Hare Airport. As we were waiting in the terminal (because we are terminally early), we saw an airplane being "repaired" by two men standing on the roof of a pick-up truck. They appeared to be hammering something to the bottom of a wing. No judgments here, but the plane was from Aero Mexico.
In Paris, we were ready for rudeness, and were sorely disappointed. Maybe they were snickering behind their backs, but at least no one was rude to our faces! Jeff's size might have intimidated some of the little "nancy boys" - there was one on the tube who approached looking rather fearful. He tentatively reached out to grab the pole near that Jeff Guy, and seemed genuinely relieved that he survived the ordeal without getting stepped upon.
It must be the glasses (or the scarf I'm wearing), but people keep assuming that I (Devon, just to be clear) am French. Not like walking into a restaurant and the waiter says "bonjour", but like a random stranger walking up to us on the street and starts speaking to me in French. Or I ask for directions and they use words other than "gauche" and "ici". But by the time we left (I'm writing this from Rome), we were able to conduct all necessary business (ordering in a restaurant, purchasing train tickets, asking directions, etc.) completely in French.
One of my favorite things about the city is that there is music everywhere. We've seen two accordionists (ooo la la!), a guy playing guitar and singing Bob Marley songs, a Spanish guitar band, a Russian folk singer, and a Peruvian pipe orchestra - and that's just been people busking in the Metro. We saw a string orchestra near the Palais Royale. We also sat across from a harpist on the Metro, but didn't realize it until he got up and walked away (carrying a harp case on his back). Jeff & I just kept elbowing each other and whispering "that looks like a harp". A lost opportunity for a single-serving friend.
I also assumed, based on the art to which I have been exposed, that the French were constantly naked. Well, they are in their paintings and sculptures, but the majority of French citizens appear in public fully clothed. Slight disappointment, but I got over it when we witnessed our first instance of French Benefit.
We were descending the steps to the Metro, with a man of about 50 a few steps ahead of us. The train was just arriving, so we were all scurrying along to catch it. As the man got to the bottom of the steps, he suddenly turned around and began to ascend them. Seeing us, he lifted both hands in the air, and made a pointing gesture that signaled his new direction. Is this simple body-language benefit, or do the French have a different system? Discussion?
3 comments:
Dev-on,
French benefit? You don't expect people outside this fam to read this, do you?
Or do you tell everyone about benefit.
I try, but normal people (who are perhaps guilty of Benefit) are never so enthusiastic about it.
I'd call that simple body language benefit. He didn't go all out and explain why he needed to change direction. He could have mumbled something like "my car's out there" or "I left my kid at that museum"
I also weigh in on the side of body language benefit. I am shocked, however, that the French people are to muc like "us" that they, too would engage in such activities. Perhaps Italy will have its own classification of Benefit--such as wiping one's brow while declaring that one does not have the Roman Fever.
The,
Dad.
I know you are all concerned, so I wanted to let you know that I have not yet contracted Roman Fever. Or yellow, scarlet, or any other color of fever.
I do, however, have Swollen Pizza Belly and Sticky Gelato Fingers.
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