Three hours after the previous post, in which I laid out our case that the French not only do not hate Americans, but in fact like them, I sit here writing an addendum.
Shortly after posting today, Karen and I found our way to our favorite brasserie in La Fleche, the large town about 9 kilometers down the road. We sat over our drinks talking quietly, when a gentleman sat down at the next table with his coffee and a newspaper. After a time we exchanged glances and when we offered the usual bonjour, he replied with “Hi!” He heard us speaking English.
Tables drew closer, a conversation ensued and it turned out he is struggling to learn English as much as we struggle to speak French, and we had a wonderful conversation that led, eventually, to an invite to meet right there at the brasserie on Wednesday evenings for drinks and a “let’s chat in English and French” session. Fantastic!
Somewhere along the line he said something about us being Brits, and when we told him no, we are Americans, the most amazing thing happened. Instantly, like a 100-watt lightbulb (and not an LED), his face erupted spontaneously into a genuine ear to ear smile, and he said, “YES! Americans! That’s better!”
We were gobsmacked. Cosmic confirmation!
Submitted without further comment.