I don’t know why I feared the French. Mon dieu, they’re lovely. They may not be sweet-tea-syrupy, y’all-come-back-now-y’hear Southerners, but neither do they sniff with distaste when Americans walk near. As we walk into shops, exhibits, or restaurants, we hand each other a bonjour and a smile. We sprinkle merci and au revoir liberally, fall into English for the rest, and have received kindness and grace at nearly every turn. Laura and Tina are already looking at real estate here.
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