People are People

This morning as we were getting ready to leave for Paris, I was telling George about an episode that happened to me at the gym. The place I exercise at is mostly "mantown" meaning mostly men go there. It has the most variety of exercise equipment around, there aren't many gym choices in our area. The majority of the people are respectful of me and are nice. There is even one guy who calls me Mrs America, because he knows I am from the USA (not the beauty pageant reference). It makes me laugh.

People are willing to share the equipment because sometimes it is crowded. This day there were two young ladies working out, and I am thinking to myself, this is a good thing, even up the genders. One of them happened to be using a machine I wanted to use also. I ask if we could use it together. I got no answer from her. So I said No? And she said No! I stood there and waited. So she just sat there and sat there not using the machine, never used it. Then very slowly got off of it, paused before the last part of her butt cheek lifted off the machine and then stood there close by the machine. I don't understand why anyone would do this.

The French get a bad rap for being rude. You wouldn't expect them to say hello to you walking down the street. But it's because, in their mind, they don't know you, so why would they say hello to a perfect stranger. We Americans don't think this way usually, and so we "think" the French are rude. But I have to say this young lady was beyond rude and the worst experience I have ever had since moving to France.

The same morning George and I were at the Chaumont train station waiting for our train to Paris. I ask the person at the ticket window where I could find an ATM machine. She came out from behind her window and pointed down the street to the nearest bank, how nice. As I returned from the bank there was an older lady sitting beside George. Kind of sitting at an angle facing his way. There were several other seats available a distance from him. She started to say something to us in French and I could hear the words "American" in her sentences. I ask the ticket window lady to help me understand what she was saying. She says "there were a lot of Americans in this area." Okay so we're thinking, yeah we're at the train station, there's a good chance lots of Americans pass by there, maybe a large group of them came through on a tour.

Then the older lady's husband shows up and sits down next to me sitting close by leaning over into my space and they began to converse between themselves. We hear "American" again and the husband say "you're Americans, what part of the US are you from?" Cleveland, our reply. Alcoa--I know that area, Alcoa is there. And so the conversation began.

Our train arrived and they wanted to sit across from us to talk more. No sooner did we sit down than Colette was writing down their name, address, email address, and telephone number. We in turn, did the same. Serge (husband) spoke better English than Colette and with the French that we know, we had a good conversation with them for several hours. We learned about their families, recommendations for French locations we might like, and our opinion of everything French.

In the end, Colette was originally talking about a US military base near Chaumont established right after the war and this couple talked much about that, how they did babysitting for some military families and conversed with the Americans during that time. They were the sweetest people you would ever want to meet.

As we got to the Paris train station they wanted to help us navigate the Metro. We had some things to take care of at the station so we parted ways. We kissed each other goodbye, Colette blew kisses in the air to us too. Before the day was over they emailed saying they had met up with their grandson, and how nice it was to meet us.

Why am I sharing this story with you. What a contrast in people between the girl I experienced in the gym and the couple we met on the train. I give the girl at the gym the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she was having a bad day. People are people all over the world, every culture is different. How we recognize and adapt to cultures makes a difference in our lives and the lives of others. People are people like Serge mentioned in his stories about the military community after the war. They embraced the foreigners in their community at probably the lowest period in their lives and in turn, each enriched their lives forever.