I made a little extra effort to look "nice" today, since I had a few meetings scheduled afterwards. Unfortunately whenever I take the time to look more "feminine", others seem to take the time to notice too....(is this a French custom with men in Paris?).
As I was rushing to the metro, I noticed a man about half a block in front of me; he kept looking back as I rushed in his direction. Every few steps he would walk, stop, turn and stare, then keep walking...stop, turn around again to stare at me, then kept walking. I finally caught up to pass him in a brisk walk...he looked at me just as I was next to him and started a conversation in French.
The timing for him was perfect as we were just at the corner where the walk sign turned red. I had to stop. I glanced at him, pretended not to hear a word and stared angrily at the "do not walk" sign for making me stop. I did not want to look friendly. He leaned over my shoulder and asked, "Do you speak English?" He smelled good...fresh, like he just stepped out of the shower. What could I do? I looked to make sure his right hand was not inside my purse, (since he was standing so close). And I replied, "Uh, yes." He said, "I would like to talk to you." I looked at the do not walk sign and thought, I would like for you to turn green NOW! Ah, it must have picked up on my vibe; it immediately turned green. I pretended like I did not understand his English.
He walked right beside me as if we were a couple asking, "May I talk to you?" "I would like to talk to you." How do I answer a question like that? Obviously we were going to the same metro station, "Okay, talk." I snapped as I walked even faster to cross the street. "Where are you from?", "Do you live in Paris?", "Where are you going?" "I would like to see you again." "Do you live alone?" "How can I see you again?" "Do you have a telephone?" I rushed down the steps to the metro, he was still by my side...just as we reached the bottom step, the doors of the metro were closing.....just his luck. I was stuck, 6 more minutes until the next train, waiting on the platform with him by my side asking more questions.
He was very friendly and polite, but how am I going to manage time with him when there's not enough time in my days already? In those 6 minutes of his questions, surrounded by his shower fresh scent, I took the time to look at him again. He wanted to meet tomorrow. I asked, "Where?" He said, "Do you know Mc Donalds at Gare de Nord?" Ahhh, straight to my heart....did he really say Mc Donalds? I had to laugh. What could I say? (if you've been reading my blog, this should be a no-brainer). I said, "Yes, okay. I will meet you tomorrow." He was happy as he quiclky wrote his phone number on a piece of paper and asked me to assure him that I would call him. I said, honestly "I might."
The train arrived, he followed me on and sat right in front of me...smiling. A musician followed us on the train and began to play music. I took a picture of my new friend and the musician. His stop was three stops later, as he got off he said, I will see you tomorrow. When the door closed, his fresh scent disappeared and my mind was clear again. I could see my intentions. I immediately sent him a text: "I am sorry, I can not meet you at Mc Donalds. Thank you."
"Meet me at McDonalds." - Obi
After the French-English Conversation group....Lunch with Adrian. Topic of discussion: "Pay Attention to the Big Picture in Business." Lesson in a nutshell: Make decisions and take action as if this were your own company. Don't wait to be told how Adrian or other mangers would do things...take control, take the best action for the bigger picture, not just one detail! Make the connection of Point A with Point B in your brain...Pay Attention!
Bonus session: Pay attention also to the intentions of the men you meet.
Pompidou Cultural Center - Just outside Cafe
Next it was off to meet my friend Luc, (from Fete de La Musique night...the one who led us into the roit) for a few hours more of French conversation.
Luc is French. Spending time with him practicing French is a great way for me to improve my French....but did he have to pick such a romantic spot to practice the language?, or could it be that (for me) any place in Paris, practicing French with a French man is romantic? I'm sure he is not interested in dating, which is a bonus for me...no distractions in learning the language...except the beautiful scenery.
Next it was off to meet my friend Luc, (from Fete de La Musique night...the one who led us into the roit) for a few hours more of French conversation.
Luc is French. Spending time with him practicing French is a great way for me to improve my French....but did he have to pick such a romantic spot to practice the language?, or could it be that (for me) any place in Paris, practicing French with a French man is romantic? I'm sure he is not interested in dating, which is a bonus for me...no distractions in learning the language...except the beautiful scenery.
Do I really live here in Paris? Is this really my home now? I wonder as the tourist pass on les bateaux (the boats), occasionally waving at "the locals"...and me...is this really real? is this really my life?
Next, I promised Faraid, (my elevator hero...the man trapped in the elevator with me a few weeks ago) that I would meet him for tea at 5:30. So after a few hours with Luc, it's back on the metro to meet Faraid.
Faraid is Muslim, very attractive but says he cannot date a woman who drinks alcohol. I am a woman who drinks alcohol. Too bad...for him. Oh, I'm sure he cannot date a woman who is not Muslim either. Too bad again, for him...again.
Faraid wants to plan a vacation together. It seems like a perfect idea to me since I am not interested in dating (at the moment) and he cannot date me...should be fun, with no strings attached right? Adrian says "Watch out!...wake up!" Faraid says he has "good intentions". I hope they are not good intentions to make me a sex slave on a barge in Morocco. But that would make an interesting blog huh?
Monday, we will pick a place to go on vacation...
Leaving the Tea House, as we crossed the street, I had to take a quick picture of a family of four in the smallest family car I've seen. I wonder if they are a French family from the country, in the city on vacation?
...and this concludes a typical Saturday in Paris.
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