One the of the things I love about Paris is that there is a mixture of every kind of people, of every age, interacting on a daily basis.
Yesterday we were at the Monoprix, a large chain store with grocery items, clothes, etc., and we talked with a clerk. Nancy was trying to explain how there were deserts in California, and he thought she was talking about desserts. Fortunately, that gave me the opportunity to practice my French!
He was young with brown, inquisitive eyes and dark, slightly curly hair. And, he was bright, and like a lot of immigrants who were looking for a better life, he and his mother had come here because they had dual citizenship, thanks to Algeria being a former colony of France. The political realities in Africa forced them to find an alternative to their homeland.
He told us about the mountains, lakes and ski resorts (!) there. It reminded me of Lake Tahoe in California. It certainly wasn’t my image of Algeria. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous to live there now . . but Paris was a wonderful alternative for him and his mother.
Later we were on a park bench in Parc Monceau. Even though it was 3 PM on a weekday, it was teeming with life, young and old. Jews with their yamakas, the Chinese doing tai-chi, businessmen and women running, stewardesses chatting in front of the Greek ruins, and, of course, two interlopers taking advantage of the milieu.
Across from us were two older women engaging in an animated conversation, both dressed in grays and browns. Their faces were expressive and one leaned back, put her hands behind her head and said something amusing. Both laughed.
On a bench on an adjacent pathway were two lovers. She was laying with her head in his lap stroking his face. Her legs were crossed as she leaned in to make a comment. They talked in low tones as the trees washed them with the shade from the afternoon sun.
Then we spotted the older couple. He was wearing dark glasses and his gaze was trained on us. His wife scanned the main path of the park. Her gaze focused on the lake and the stone house with its yellow and green flowers that adorned the pathway around the lake. I looked back, and he was still looking, intently. Maybe an international spy charged with ‘taking out’ the two interloping Americans!
We remained calm as the two hit-grandparents staked us out, and cautiously, but quickly, took one of the trails around the lake to the exit. We dodged another bullet!