The Walk to School

When staying in a foreign country even a morning walk to school can be a fascinating cultural experience.

A mother or a father has a child or two by the hand hurrying them to school.  I overhear snatches of their conversations.  Children's voices easily speaking a language I am trying with difficulty to learn.

Some people are carrying freshly baked baguettes home for breakfast.  Others are sitting in the sidewalk cafes eating their breakfasts or drinking their coffee.

 The man at the fishmarket is dumping melting ice on the sidewalk.  I've learned to walk down the other side of the street so that I don't walk in water that I'm afraid will make my feet smell like fish. Many people are walking dogs of every description.  I join everyone else trying to avoid what they deposit on the sidewalk.

The buildings I pass are old, ornate, beautiful.  The plants exotic. The advertisements chic.

 Small cars race about and the many motorcyclists dart in an out of traffic.  I pass numerous businesses, hotels, and restaurants. Nothing like what I see on my morning walks at home.

 I love to be out in the morning with everyone else who is hurrying about beginning their days.  I feel a part of things.  I feel a little bit French.