a girl trudged gratefully into the shaded sanctuary of a central square.
benches lined the square, and the rustle of the leafy canopy above provided a soothing accompaniment to the muted whisper of the random afternoon zephyr.
Sunday afternoons were always quiet in Lyon. to a corner, a group of elderly men and young bucks seriously contemplated their game of pentanque, the silver ball catching the stray rays of light that filtered through the trees. maybe theyd go for a rowdy drink of pastis later, but for now, total concentration. outside the square, tourists sat in al-fresco cafes, having their lunch or at least their aperitifs. it was crowded, but the heat of their sun rendered their discourses into a drowsy indistinguishable buzz.
Girl took out a sketchpad. there was a statue of a war hero in the centre of the square that would make a good subject. any excuse to get out of this sweltering heat. plonking onto the nearest bench, she prepared her things and propped the book on her knee.girl noticed that a man was watching her progress from the adjacent bench. it was an elderly looking gent, in a grubby singlet, pants and combat boots. an unshaven face, with unkempt hair. but his eyes, which held great liveliness, belied his exterior. he came over and asked with friendly enquiry, 'qu'est-ce que tu fais?'
Girl answered that she was trying to sketch the statue, and then began, as most often does w/ strangers in europe, a long conversation, in which names, nationalities and what-are-you-doing-heres were ascertained. they werent important, but they helped keep conversation going, and unsettledness from creeping in.
for the gent spoke no english, and the girl, francais terrible, so their interaction, though shallow, maintained them in laughter and exasperation. Girl found that Jano was of Chilean heritage, and was taking a break in the midst of moving house. 'mon appartement est juste la - en face de cette place.' pointing vaguely. he did not know where the nation of Singapore was.
but in europe, you just get over that. you get over the fact that youre from a titchy little country halfway on the other side of the earth whose growth or demise really will have no effect on the world whatsoever. Jano asks if they should go get a drink; his Chilean friends own a petite epicerie around the corner. girl, understandingly, hesitates and offers lame excuse. her elder, and necessarily more worldly companion snorts in derision. Dont live life thinking about the next thing, he points out, as though she really had planned another engagement. a life like that is not worth living. live in the moment, for the moment. like now, i am talking to you, girl from singapore, and i enjoy talking to you. its a beautiful day, with beautiful weather. but its a bit hot. i buy you a drink, and we talk some more. indeed, it was still hot, and she did want a drink, so what the hell, and off they went. im not sure, reader, if you have ever met a more pixie-like gent. down the street he went, upon lacing up his combats (he had taken them off, in the heat - there were holes in his socks) and the youth-light shining from behind his crow's feet and the mask of his roughly shaven face would have made a centarinarian want to jump up and dance a jig with him.
sunlight skipped on the uneven cobblestone street, like flat stones on the surface of a stream.
they came back to the shaded spot, with a beer and an orange juice. his mates at the epicerie were your boisterous uncles, full of raucous humour. 'si vous voudrais le saucisson, madmoiselle, il y a un boucherie a cote!' passers-by looked at the unkempt gent and the black-haired girl, and smiled little watchful smiles, perhaps apprehensive. but the innocent duo both knew that their exchange was with a kindred spirit, and did not mind them. Jano took out his weed and white powder, and the girl reopened her sketchpad.
Every new person you meet has a new story, and you have but to listen in order to learn something new from them. Mayhaps in this bustling city society everyone is busy, planning their next move. but mayhaps if one slows down her pace, and shrug off the societal pressures for a change, she will be able to hear, see, feel and learn much more than she expected.
travellers feel carefree, because they are living away from pressure, and free to do whatever they want. that's the theory and idea, i think.
but in europe, you just get over that. you get over the fact that youre from a titchy little country halfway on the other side of the earth whose growth or demise really will have no effect on the world whatsoever. Jano asks if they should go get a drink; his Chilean friends own a petite epicerie around the corner. girl, understandingly, hesitates and offers lame excuse. her elder, and necessarily more worldly companion snorts in derision. Dont live life thinking about the next thing, he points out, as though she really had planned another engagement. a life like that is not worth living. live in the moment, for the moment. like now, i am talking to you, girl from singapore, and i enjoy talking to you. its a beautiful day, with beautiful weather. but its a bit hot. i buy you a drink, and we talk some more. indeed, it was still hot, and she did want a drink, so what the hell, and off they went. im not sure, reader, if you have ever met a more pixie-like gent. down the street he went, upon lacing up his combats (he had taken them off, in the heat - there were holes in his socks) and the youth-light shining from behind his crow's feet and the mask of his roughly shaven face would have made a centarinarian want to jump up and dance a jig with him.
sunlight skipped on the uneven cobblestone street, like flat stones on the surface of a stream.
they came back to the shaded spot, with a beer and an orange juice. his mates at the epicerie were your boisterous uncles, full of raucous humour. 'si vous voudrais le saucisson, madmoiselle, il y a un boucherie a cote!' passers-by looked at the unkempt gent and the black-haired girl, and smiled little watchful smiles, perhaps apprehensive. but the innocent duo both knew that their exchange was with a kindred spirit, and did not mind them. Jano took out his weed and white powder, and the girl reopened her sketchpad.
Every new person you meet has a new story, and you have but to listen in order to learn something new from them. Mayhaps in this bustling city society everyone is busy, planning their next move. but mayhaps if one slows down her pace, and shrug off the societal pressures for a change, she will be able to hear, see, feel and learn much more than she expected.
travellers feel carefree, because they are living away from pressure, and free to do whatever they want. that's the theory and idea, i think.
