Last Dinner

On our last night in Paris, some of us decided to go out to dinner at a restaurant called L’epoque. Arriving to the restaurant around 19:30, we were the only ones there. Seated outside at a little table with a red and white checkered table cloth, I couldn’t help but think that this was such a quintessential Paris experience, not to mention the perfect way to spend our last moments in this wonderful city. Our waiter was this nice little Asian man, and we told him that it was our last night in the city and he told us that he hoped our evening was just what we hoped for. He was very sweet and kept coming back to make small conversation, even though his English was slightly limited. It was ironic that we were spending our last night in Paris at a restaurant that was virtually empty and where the service was impeccable. Whereas a lot of my meals, although always delicious, here have been at restaurants that are incredibly busy and the waiters usually have little time to stop and chat. It was very special we had some time to slow down from this whirlwind of a trip right before we were about to leave. As I sit here in the U.S. on the 4^th of July, I look back on my Paris trip with fondness and I am happy that I was able to enjoy my last dinner at such a leisurely pace and with such excellent food and people.

Semi-Local

I have a hard time believing that the trip is almost over. As Heidi explained it "oat sac syndrome" is starting to set in and like a horse knowing there are oats waiting back home, I am yearning mac and cheese and flaming hot cheetos and most of all my family and friends. Walking around the city knowing it is my last day has been unreal I feel like the last month was a dream and I'm about to wake up. I finally feel like I have started to conduct myself as a local, even though my French has not improved nearly as much as i would have liked or expected. I went to the post office to buy stamps today and standing in line a man started talking to me in French. I tried to be as polite as possible with a little bit of a laugh and a big smile I finally said the phrase I know best "Je ne pas parle Française" and surprisingly he was a little taken aback by this. He went on to tell me that he thought I was French! I was very flattered, just being in the post office made me feel more like someone who lives here even before he had mentioned that. He was a very very kind man and was interested about the states and Colorado. He was also nice enough to translate my question about how many stamps I needed per postcard to send internationally because the clerk could not understand what I was saying at all. I was very grateful for his help and his kindness, he told me about how we are all the same in the end and that if we can come together and be accepting of everyone, one love. Marcel is the man who works at the tabac where I get my cigarettes now knows me by name and is always joking and playing little tricks on me. He will pretend to take my change and tried to take the wine bottle out of my shopping bag. It sounds weird in words that he is taking my things but it is very clear he is just messing with me and being silly outside of the language barrier. He has helped me out with my pronunciation of the numbers as well as gitanes and gauloise in which you just don't say the end half of the word, which is common for a lot of french words I am learning. Marcel has even been nice enough to recharge my orange cell phone minutes for me because I can't understand the woman and when the store was busy he helped me understand what the recording was asking me for. He is funny and I appreciate every ounce (or should I say centiliter?) of pleasant interaction I can get. All in all, I thought I would be disappointed that most of my interactions involved buying things but either way I will look back at this and think of these acquaintances as much more than that, as friends.