La Vie à la Rue

I enjoy people, I do. And yet I've always considered myself to be somewhat distant, independent, unaffected by the actions of others. In this regard, France has served me well. I am able to walk through the streets completely uninterrupted, singing or talking to myself if I please. No one will look or make anything that can be construed as acknowledgment. The streets of Aix, crowded as they may be, are one of the few public places in which you can completely retreat to your own planet.

And yet, there are times in which you feel like sidling up to the unknown woman on the bus and singing into her ear how lovely a day it is. Or smiling at the old man you pass on the sidewalk; smiling so warmly so as to tint the rest of his day a little brighter. There are no patting the heads of loitering children here. No cooing over babies or matted dogs or to-die-for shoes. No haphazard run-ins with people you haven't seen in months. You walk with purpose, your gaze fixed ahead, avoiding potential eye contact and unfortunate run-ins with mopeds.

But then, one day, after having lived in France long enough to know more than the two people you live with, you are surprised to see someone you recognize--the lady with the green reusable shopping bag, perhaps. The server from the restaurant. The old woman with shockingly light blue eyeliner. And as time passes, these encounters are more frequent, until the day when you finally see someone you know. Really know. And you stop in the street and kiss their cheeks and feel, for that little moment, so fulfilled to have actually touched a person in the rue. It's at this moment when you finally appreciate these small instances of contact, of Provençal warmth, of the French romantic sensibility. Passing classmates on the way to the market. Strolling arm in arm with a copine. Chance meetings in the school courtyard. Knowing that the woman in the corner store recognizes you and charges you less for oranges. Hearing someone address you as you walk, be it only a pardon or merci or excusez-moi.

I tried today to explain to my language exchange partner that, where I come from, it's considered rude to not acknowledge a person in passing. "Really?!?" she said. "That is so much better. The French are too serious."

Trop serieux.