LETTER FROM PARIS #14 finding a friend

Before we left for Paris a relative of mine who had lived here many years ago warned me that the French were very private people so it might be difficult for me to form a friendship. Without any kind of even casual “friendship” I won’t be able to realize one of the reasons for visiting: to improve our fluency, especially for me, in my ability to hear and understand. Boy do I need a French friend. Yes, we already have Henri and Michele, but they live in Chantilly and we see them infrequently.

Today – I may have struck it! The day began cold, cloudy and windy. After nearly three weeks of almost continuous sunshine and early summer temperatures, we were back to reality.

We had planned to do some grocery shopping and on the the way stop for lunch. The little brasserie on Lebon, just out our back door and where we had enjoyed lunch with Henri and Michele, was jammed. We walked less than a block and came to a place with the unpretentious name: “Tibs.” The sign said pizza and a bunch of other stuff. We looked at the menu and chose from among several listed as “gratins” I should have caught on when I saw that Shirley’s order of an “Atlantic” included “substitute de crevettes” which meant that they were not serving real shrimp. We’ve done it again. We have stumbled into a kosher restaurant, not 100 metres from out back door. (If you didn’t know – shellfish of any kind are not kosher.)We do not keep kosher in any way, but here we are, confronted by our heritage.

The bigger surprise was the quality of the food delivered by a young man wearing a “kipah” (or yarmulke). We started with two succulent savouries – one that seemed to be a spicy tapenade but turned out to be egg plant, and another which was creamy with potato – accompanied by lightly toasted pitas. Great beginning. Then came the “gratins.” If you like mac and cheese with the cheese all brown and crusty, you will have loved these. We set to with zest.

During our meal a couple, I think in their late fifties, perhaps early 60s sat right next to us. Because I am determined to strike up a conversation no matter what – I began. “Les gratins sont merveilleux.” He seemed not to respond. His wife, whose back was to us, was totally removed. But when his order arrived it was pizza. I started again to chat. He responded. I told him the usual story about being here for three months and wanting to speak “la langue” better. That was all he needed. I did have to slow him down but we started chatting.

Turns out he is Jewish and wants to know what it is like for Jews in Canada and do we have a problem with Arabs? He went on that life was good, except in certain suburbs. Then wow – we got in way over my head. He wanted social and political and economic news about Canada, about our banks, about our reaction to Obama, and about more stuff than I had even remotely the right words for. He was really patient with me. He spoke slowly, although some of the language required a lot more than speaking slowly.

But I think I have found a friend. Guy Benedic gave me his cell phone number. I gave him my Toronto particulars, in case he came to visit. But he is my kind of guy: vociferous, articulate, questioning and determined. (His wife sat quiescently by through all this.)

I hope he will not be surprised when I phone him, after letting a respectable amount of time go by. I told him he could be my “prof.” He laughed. I’m hoping.