"Could you fill it up, please?" I said to the man at the full-service station. (I notice that too many of these posts revolve around cars.)
"Sure. Are you French?" he asked.
I was startled. Why would he think I was a foreigner? Well, he was Mexican himself, so maybe he couldn't hear that I have an American accent. I was dressed all in black...in a skirt...(everyone here seems to wear pastel-colored sweatsuits-- I suppose I will eventually too) and I had gotten out of the car to speak to him.
A few minutes later I discovered a third reason. His boss had a foreign accent. "Where are you from?" I asked.
"Lyon," he said shortly. (By the way, do you know that the traditional spelling of Marseille, Lyon, and Reims in English is Marseilles, Lyons, Rheims? It is dying out, which I, being a traditionalist, am sorry for.)
He arrived in 1968, so I couldn't help wondering why he left France. It would be exciting if he were a fugitive from the Law.
It's so hard to believe you're in California, rather suddenly! It must be quite an adjustment, especially to Southern California. Will keep up with you via your new blog. Bonne chance et bonne courage!
Posted by: Paris Parfait | 21 February 2007 at 19:43
Don't I wish that someone would ask me if I am French?! I pass once in a while as British, but that's about it. Sad!
Meilleurs voeux!!
Posted by: blueVicar | 27 February 2007 at 21:43