A marronnier, or horse-chestnut tree. They line the streets of Paris.
Today was a beautiful day in Paris, and in spite of some problems I have had a little more time and went for a nice long walk to do some errands. The city is so beautiful now that the leaves are starting to sprout after a long, long, long winter!
Down a side street, a glimpse of trees and gardens
My accent is getting better again after my long séjour in the States. Today a black vendeuse seemed to be listening to me carefully and after a while said, "If you won't think it's rude-- where are you from? I hear a little accent?"
I told her and then asked her where she was from-- she somehow did not seem 100% French. She laughed and said she was from Ghana, and moved to France to be with her father, whom she had never seen, when she was seven. "But I've stayed faithful to my roots!" she said. "My son has a name from Ghana."
"Really? What is it?"
"Wesley."
"You mean, as in The Princess Bride?" I asked.
"Exactement!"
To keep me from being in too good a mood, my street is being dug up with jackhammers, and they've just put a notice on all the buildings on the street that the gas will be turned off all day next week, and that if you're not in your apartment by eight p.m. for them to turn it back on, you won't have hot water again till the next morning.
"They have to do it that way, to check everything's okay," said the concierge when I ran into her in the hall."Last year that big building where we keep our cars had a dangerous fuite de gaz* and the workers told me if they hadn't checked every apartment, it could have blown up!"
An elegantly dressed older man, whom I had never seen before, came down the stairs and nodded at me. I realized he must be from the family from Madrid who spends only a few weeks a year in their apartment in our building. He asked the concierge in Spanish if she had a moment (she is from Colombia) and so I said goodbye. "Hasta luego... euh, au revoir Madame!" she said.
*gas leak
