“Where are you from?” We happily answer this question daily as we travel. It gives us the opportunity to strikeup conversation with locals, or maybe other travelers. On this warm June morning we board a train from Raims, France, headed to Paris. We find ourselves on a crowded train, seated with a group of hungover kids, so tge conversation looks promising.
A young lady dozeswith her head against the window, another fidgets with her bag. Although the young man clearly has a headache, he can’t resist asking where we are from. We are obviously from the US, lacking any European appearance. We live in Colorado, in the mountains west of Denver. They want to know if we ski in Colorado and we smoke pot there. We show them a picture of Evergreen and they think it looks “like the movies”.
Yes, we’ve been to France before, and we just finished spending several days in the world of Champagne. We didn’t buy the expensive bubbles the American’s typically buy. Instead, we appreciate the local palate. The young man paused to engage in rapid-fire French conversation with one of the ladies, then switched back to fluent English just as rapidly. Amazing.
The ladies bring out their English and join in. Where are you going next? What do we think of their country? We are en route to Amboise, in the Loire Valley, to appreciate some wine and some chateaux. We adore their country, especially the young adults.
Young French people love to practice their English. They are inquisitive and honest. They are always helpful. As our train nears Paris, we reveal that we are concerned about a tight connection. The college students say, “Follow us.” We quickly weave through the sloths in the train station with our luggage in tow, arriving at the platform. OK, this sounds really fast but we were running and sweating and gasping for about 20 minutes when he points us to our destination. (The girls are lost somewhere.) We thank him and buy his connecting ticket.
And the train leaves before we can board. It’s all part of the journey: getting lost, impressive thunder storms, remembering our manners, making friends. Our first trip was a whilwind jaunt through Italy, seeing and experiencing the country as tourists. We quickly realize that we don’t want to be tourists, but travelers instead. We don’t want to merely skim the surface and only see the best of what the location has to offer, but want to slow down, talk to people, eat and drink where the locals eat and drink. For instance, always choose the gelato shop with the longest line.
We have a collection of international friends. We’ve enjoyed their weddings, celebrated the birth of their children, hosted them in our home and visited their countries. Let’s see where our next adventure takes us. Bon vogage!