A few weeks ago, I headed to the Marais on a Friday night for a friend's birthday party. (The Marais is a hip neighborhood in Paris, similar to Boston's South End.) I headed up the stairs of a bar called Les Etages (a bar I don't particularly like, but that's besides the point,) and joined my friend Anna and a few dozen of her friends in celebrating her 28th birthday. Anna is a former classmate and now writing teacher of mine at the writing workshop I attend at the Shakespeare and Company bookstore.
As soon as I arrived, I focused on a face across the room that looked familiar - a blond girl about my age with glasses and light white skin. I said to Anna's boyfriend, Dorian, that this girl looked familiar. Dorian is French, and when he said her name back to me in the loud bar it sounded like "Enn-lee." As familiar as she looked, I couldn't place the connection, and as she was across the room in a noisy Friday night bar I didn't puzzle for too long on how I knew her.
Later on that night, after a few beers and some small talk with an English friend of Anna's, I wandered upstairs to the bathroom. When I got there, the one toilet stall was in use, and the familiar-looking blond girl was waiting in line. As friends of friends do, we got to chatting and she asked one of the five most common foreigner questions in Paris - "How long have you been here?" I always have to stop and absentmindedly recollect my history when I am asked this question.
"Well, I first came here as a student for eight months, then I went back to Boston to finish school, and I returned to France immediately after that but I was in Normandy for seven months and then I came back to Paris... so roughly three and a half to four years."
"Where in Boston did you go to school?" she asked with a bit of a smirk.
"Well, it's this really small school called Simmons, you probably haven't heard of it..."
Her smirk widended and she said, "I went to Simmons."
My brain yawned and stretched and my eyes widended : "You DID? Wait, when did you graduate?"
And so Henley and I were formally introduced. Graduating a year earlier than me, in 2005, I was away in France for all of her senior year. We went over fields of study and best Simmons friends and deduced that we must have met once or two in connection with the Simmons Voice. She's been in Paris for a few years but is planning to leave for grad school next year.
Meanwhile, back in my writing class at Shakespeare and Co, a classmate announced that he will be moving to Boston in a few months so his wife can start school. Where, you might ask? Simmons, of course! She will be getting a master's degree in the Education department. I gave him one (of the many) Simmons pens I have fumbling around in my handbag and told him to look into apartments in Jamaica Plain.
So, goes to show that even if you're in Paris, it's a small world after all.
As soon as I arrived, I focused on a face across the room that looked familiar - a blond girl about my age with glasses and light white skin. I said to Anna's boyfriend, Dorian, that this girl looked familiar. Dorian is French, and when he said her name back to me in the loud bar it sounded like "Enn-lee." As familiar as she looked, I couldn't place the connection, and as she was across the room in a noisy Friday night bar I didn't puzzle for too long on how I knew her.
Later on that night, after a few beers and some small talk with an English friend of Anna's, I wandered upstairs to the bathroom. When I got there, the one toilet stall was in use, and the familiar-looking blond girl was waiting in line. As friends of friends do, we got to chatting and she asked one of the five most common foreigner questions in Paris - "How long have you been here?" I always have to stop and absentmindedly recollect my history when I am asked this question.
"Well, I first came here as a student for eight months, then I went back to Boston to finish school, and I returned to France immediately after that but I was in Normandy for seven months and then I came back to Paris... so roughly three and a half to four years."
"Where in Boston did you go to school?" she asked with a bit of a smirk.
"Well, it's this really small school called Simmons, you probably haven't heard of it..."
Her smirk widended and she said, "I went to Simmons."
My brain yawned and stretched and my eyes widended : "You DID? Wait, when did you graduate?"
And so Henley and I were formally introduced. Graduating a year earlier than me, in 2005, I was away in France for all of her senior year. We went over fields of study and best Simmons friends and deduced that we must have met once or two in connection with the Simmons Voice. She's been in Paris for a few years but is planning to leave for grad school next year.
Meanwhile, back in my writing class at Shakespeare and Co, a classmate announced that he will be moving to Boston in a few months so his wife can start school. Where, you might ask? Simmons, of course! She will be getting a master's degree in the Education department. I gave him one (of the many) Simmons pens I have fumbling around in my handbag and told him to look into apartments in Jamaica Plain.
So, goes to show that even if you're in Paris, it's a small world after all.
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