|A random wall in Paris|
There must be a middle path in here somewhere. We'll start today and see where we go...
...and speaking of things getting out of control...
Last week I called EDF (the French electric company) to request a refund for a fee they charged in error (another long story.)
After punching all of the appropriate numbers and symbols on my telephone, I landed in the headset of a fellow named 'Sébastian'. I explained the situation and my request for the refund, which was met with a pause on his end. I usually fill this quiet space by rattling off something like, "Est-ce que vous comprenez? Je suis desolée. Je ne parle pas bien français."*
* Do you understand? I'm sorry. I don't speak French well.
His quick response of "Si, si! Vous parlez très bien. J'ai compris tout ce que vous avez dit,"** was very encouraging but it got better.
** No, no! You speak very well. I've understood all that you've said."
He continued (in French but for the sake of speed here...), "In fact, you have a very pretty accent. What country are you from?" and before I could squeeze an answer into the small space he'd provided, he added, "Are you English?" (I get this a lot. I don't have that American 'r' that ends up sounding like a car grinding gears. The French 'r' can be a little tricky for American tongues to manage.)
"No, I'm American," I replied.
"Ooooh! American," he cooed. "Why are you in France? Are you being punished?"
I laughed, but it's not uncommon for people to ask in an incredulous tone why I left the US to move to France.
"No, no. I'm not being punished," I said, "in fact, I made the choice to live here."
"C'est pas vrai!" He continued in this vein - like a miner sifting for gold. "From what region?"
"California," I said.
Voilà! He'd struck it rich. There was gold in them thar words!
"Californieeeeeee!" he sang. "Take me with you!"
To be continued...
Bon dimanche à tous!