It's been 56 days since I left India. Almost two months. WAY too many things have happened in the meantime; too much has changed. I am now in Verneuil sur Avre in France an hour away from Paris, I now work for the French education ministry as an English language assistant. I live in an apartment with two other language assistants, I cook my own food, do my own laundry, pay rent for the apartment I'm living in. I've gotten used to eating chicken with very less salt; steamed not fried. I can manage to eat with a fork and a knife. I make shopping lists and budget plans and I think too much about what I'm gonna have to make for the next meal. I know how to use a photocopier, I learnt how to subtitle videos and how to use a vacuum cleaner.
I've seen the Eiffel tower and witnessed some feelings I can't label, I walked almost all night around Paris watching the fireworks cast blurry shadows over the Seine. I met some very generous people who went out of their way to help me out. Someone who drove me around from town to town, someone who made life so much easier for me, someone who invited me to her place so I don't feel lonely, someone I admire a lot and someone my colleagues call my french mother.
I've taken trains and metros across Paris, I've seen it inside and out. I've had a young black guy flirt at me shamelessly; I've had some teenagers mock my hair and clothes. On the train that day I saw an old man playing the accordion for small change, he had a big smile on his face and the smile made his face more wrinkled. He looked adorable, he had no teeth, his coat had a patch and his pants needed hemming. He played some very famous french jazz songs from the seventies with so much cheer, I absolutely loved listening to him. He was in the front end of the compartment and I was at the back. As he came closer to the door he started playing my favourite Edith Piaf and it made me grin from ear to ear. He saw me grinning and came closer to my seat when I put my hand out so I could give him the coin I had. He comes closer, smiling all the time, sits down opposite me, takes the coin and kisses my hand and thanks me. I tell him I love Edith Piaf and he plays another favorite again, he then asks for my name and adds it to the song while singing it.
Oh the things that can happen to you.
I've seen the Eiffel tower and witnessed some feelings I can't label, I walked almost all night around Paris watching the fireworks cast blurry shadows over the Seine. I met some very generous people who went out of their way to help me out. Someone who drove me around from town to town, someone who made life so much easier for me, someone who invited me to her place so I don't feel lonely, someone I admire a lot and someone my colleagues call my french mother.
I've taken trains and metros across Paris, I've seen it inside and out. I've had a young black guy flirt at me shamelessly; I've had some teenagers mock my hair and clothes. On the train that day I saw an old man playing the accordion for small change, he had a big smile on his face and the smile made his face more wrinkled. He looked adorable, he had no teeth, his coat had a patch and his pants needed hemming. He played some very famous french jazz songs from the seventies with so much cheer, I absolutely loved listening to him. He was in the front end of the compartment and I was at the back. As he came closer to the door he started playing my favourite Edith Piaf and it made me grin from ear to ear. He saw me grinning and came closer to my seat when I put my hand out so I could give him the coin I had. He comes closer, smiling all the time, sits down opposite me, takes the coin and kisses my hand and thanks me. I tell him I love Edith Piaf and he plays another favorite again, he then asks for my name and adds it to the song while singing it.
Oh the things that can happen to you.
You should write more elaborate stories and experiences!
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