Parisian Encounters

Entering my 4th week in Paris I have begun to get a good fundamental understanding of my surroundings. Parisian tendencies and normalcies are starting to make more sense to me, and I am beginning to develop a very fond liking for the area that for the next few months I will be calling home.  Language however is still tricky for me, I have begun to pick up on some of the colloquial phrases, and I have started to gain more confidence in my speech. I have noticed that the most useful and somewhat intruding comprehension technique is to listen to people's conversations around me and try to pick up what they are saying. One typical Wednesday after class two classmates and I went out to explore and find a place to get espresso.  We were in search of a cafe with wifi, but found instead a quaint coffee place not a block away from our residence. The cafe owner behind the counter was busy preparing the food for the lunch menu,  fixing boisson chauds, and entertaining locals in conversation. We found the small environment inviting and the smell of freshly ground espresso intoxicating.  The chairs at the table we sat at were round on top like the work out balls at the gym, but they were flat at the bottom, so they could be stationary, weird to picture I know. I got up to order a drink from the bar, and a man at the counter noticed my lack of diction and obvious non-native dialect; he asked (in french) if I was a student studying near-by because there was a school room on the other side of the cafe.  I told him that I go to school a few streets away and I am here to learn french. Of course like every Parisian, he was correcting almost everything I said, but he was very sweet about it, and I could tell that he was glad that I was making such an effort. I went back to my table a few feet away with my drink and the man kept talking to me and my fellow classmates. We told him that we were americans and he seemed intrigued, he spoke some english himself and we proceeded from there speaking a variety I like to call Franglais. The man, named Charles ( Charrrll) told us that he was a painter and had a studio in the neighborhood, he was dressed head to toe like a vrai Parisian. He had on an orange sweater, and blue blazer, slacks, nice shoes, but most notable were the John Lenon shaped glasses he was wearing with the thick, black rims. He was older, and balding, with a slight gap between his two front teeth. His dress and mannerisms was altogether charming. It was as if the man embodied the cafe itself. Modern, eclectic, with a hint of charming warmth to make you feel invited in. We discussed a range of subjects, he told us he had studied for a while in Japan, we were talking about rent control in city apartments, and we were mutually correcting each other's speech as we would switch from English to French. The man behind the counter was also joining into the conversation, poking fun at Charles for his "bavard-ness" (chattiness). My guess is that Charles doesn't exactly have to be invited into a conversation to join one. We all finished our drinks and sat for a few more minutes talking and describing our studies, Charles said he had to go, and then we all left at around the same time.  I very much enjoyed our short encounter with Charles. He was a perfect example of how many Parisians defy the stereotype that they are cold and snouty.  I feel that many of the youth fit the stereotype better than some of the older people, and I find that odd. Maybe it's just the youth themselves who are more stand-offish. I hope to have more encounters like this one in the future.