my little friend

i was standing outside an opera house that was circled on my map with a strong desire to be back in the airport where i felt strangely at home, and after my german friends had walked away i felt as if i may not find somewhere that could feel like a home for a few days. so i did what anyone in my situation would have done.

i walked up to a strange little man who had been standing on my corner. i did this reluctantly, i might add, because this corner had become my corner after everyone i knew on it had vacated it.

i was happy at this corner.
i didn't want to leave.
i was perfectly content.

but because the strange little french man was not carrying a backpackers bag that he had borrowed from a friend back home he was the perfect candidate to show me where i was to go. but when i went up to say hello to my little french friend he reacted in a way that i was not prepared for.

he spoke portuguese - which was fine, i wouldn't have known had he have spoke french - and french but very little english. enough to let me know that he didn't speak any english. and after several failed attempts to show me/tell me/pantomime for me he threw his hands up in the air (throw your hands up - in the air ... ha, now your singing), said something and walked away from me. i stood there with my backpack and murse and map and wondered what i had done to deserve this.

***

before university i went to australia for three weeks. i learned a lot and now plan my trips to have more direction. however i didn't realize how much i had learned until i returned home. one particular day before a shift at the pub i worked at i was at a shop developing pictures. i left the shop and a little man came up to me and asked in broken english something that resembled a bit about phone cards. without missing a beat, and knowing that anything i said would be lost in the lack of translation, i motioned for him to follow me and took him back into the store. i asked jeff at the desk (because i knew jeff at the desk because i gave jeff at the desk pints of moosehead after work) for a phone card and he pointed to next door. so i took my new friend next door and he thanked me for longer than i stood there to listen.

***

my little french/portuguese friend turned back around and looked at me and it was then that i noticed he wasn't walking away and that the Something that he said was not something said in disgust ... he was preparing to take me to the train and get me to my hostel. i looked around my corner and decided that we had had enough time together and after realizing what i had done to deserve this i prepared myself to leave the airport for the second time.

this is not france, but it is still funny.