Imagine a sunny day in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, in a café echoing with old Celine Dion songs, and a creepy, too short (even seated, his near-dwarfism is apparent), dark-eyed Gaulois watching me type.
In my line of view there is a young American girl, at most three years older than me, sitting on a stool with her young Italian husband. She has a big diamond wedding ring on her finger. Something about her has seemed familiar to me since she sat in front of me about an hour ago. [Oh, and incidentally, the bit about the diamond ring has nothing to do with this story at all, other than the fact that it is particularly remarkable on her young hands. It also doesn’t really jive with her pumas, sevens and tank top. Or no…maybe it’s the floppy knot of hair that makes her ring look out of place…I don’t know; en tous cas, il y a pour moi quelque chose qui cloche.]
Occasionally I have been eavesdropping and glancing at this couple, to glean little bits of information about who they are. A few moments ago they began talking about bird watching.
She brought it up.
Her Italian husband laughed and declared that no one really did beerd watcheeng. She retorts:
-Hey! Don’t knock bird watching! It’s really serious for some people. When you come visit my grandparents in Michigan, you better not say anything like that in front of them. They spend hours bird watching.
What?!
-Yeah! There’ll be a bird going ‘tweet tweet’ outside and my grandma will be in the kitchen and go ‘oh hey, listen! There’s like a…chickadee outside’ Yeah, totally! They’re totally serious about it. So..yeah.
She pronounced these last words (so…yeah) with great conviction and with a look of having satisfactorily won an argument on her face.
So there you have it. I’m just thoroughly amused by this whole scene, nothing more nothing less. I’m also now wondering whether she seems so familiar to me because I’ve seen her before in Michigan, or whether because I somehow intuitively recognize her as being from Michigan.
Is that possible? Is there something especially michigan-y about Michiganders? Opinions welcome.
On a different bird topic, a couple of weeks ago, I was walking down a narrow street in Paris when 6 or 7 pigeons came swooping down through the middle of the street. I ducked a little, but gracefully, acting sort of like I was looking behind me. When I did, my gaze crossed that of a middle-aged man walking 20 paces or so behind me. He smiled a little at me, as in "I saw that ducking, but who ducks for pigeons? They have an innate sense of SPLAT!!!!!" One of the pigeons ran smack into his face, scratching his cheek.
"Voulez-vous un mouchoir, monsieur?"
"Non, merci," he grumbled, suddenly not smirking any more.
Good thing I ducked.
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2 comments:
What, no photos, Sara? No doubt the little Michigan chickie found this Italian man on one of those Michigan "pilgrimages" to Florence! I am surprised you didn't ask.
Too bad so much of your Paris time was spent sick...hopefully Madrid will be better and I do hope you continue with your blog there.
Love you, Sweetie!
Im not sure if my four years at Michigan allow me to speak with some authority. But often, an outsider is more adept at spotting the idiosyncracies. If I spotted said girl, with her typical mixture of bling and blah, I would've said she was from michigan...or at least wisconsin.
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