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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2135529-Lets-speak-French
by Lilian
Rated: E · Prose · Comedy · #2135529
Funny story about talk between man and woman. They are in France
Let's speak French!
Please, could you, tell me where the paradise is? Do not know? Well, of course, you do not know! But I know and quite definitely can say that heaven is France.

A paradise for me is when I am happy, relaxed and feel light and comfortable, looking at other people, or communicating with them. And a light, transparent veil of a similar mood and state is covered all around in France.

Listening to French is such a pleasure that I always try to open my mouth and say something in this incomprehensible and native language, but, unfortunately, I do not have any abilities for French, so offensively!

And, thinking about it, I'm sitting at a bus stop in Grenoble, heading for the airport. The weekend, early morning, at the bus stop, I'm alone, and only from the windows of the house across the street some black-haired, curly heads of Arab men sitting by the windows and shamelessly examining me can be seen, there is no one else to see.
There are many Arabs in France, and it is for them, men, such work -- to sit and look out the window, and they do it with great interest. But I do not pay attention to them and think about my own.
Some time later, a man approaches and sits on the bench next to me.He asks me something in  dear my heart French. I do not understand anything, but decide to be polite and support the conversation.
-- Oui, ene effet. Yes, indeed, -- I answer him slowly, with the arrangement. It seems that I listen to him and say "yes" to him.
I turn my head, the man is an Arab, but that does not change my mood, because he speaks lovely French.
Black-haired heads in the opposite windows  strained slightly and a spark of interest appeared in their eyes. But I was not up to them, I tried to grab at least one of those phrases that he began to tell me quickly. But I did not understand anything. He began to wave his hand towards the building where I lived and where I came from.
I decided that he asked me if I lived there. Gladly smiling at the fact that, at last, I guessed what was at stake, I answered him with cheerful intonation.
-- Oui, ene effet.
He moved closer to me, curly heads opposite stood, as if waiting for something... But I'm not in the woods live... I'm in Europe... I reacted to all this calmly.
He again began to tell me something incomprehensible and raised two fingers, pointing to my house... Everything is clear! He asks if I live together. Hooray!
-Pas deux, une, not two, one.
I lift one finger. He puts his hand on my knee and then it comes to me that there was no mutual understanding.
A sense of happiness and satisfaction spread across all faces opposite. There was a feeling that now they all come running here.
With lightning speed, I gave out my key phrase
-- Je suis russe! I am Russian!
The Arab quickly jumped away from me and stood up, keeping a distance, held out his hand to me, shook mine and said something and spoke to me with great respect, I distinguished the words: Lenin, Moscow, the Revolution. He stood there until the bus came ..
.
Grenoble 1998



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