Strangers in the park

It was a nice sunny day out today, so Myriam and I got a picnic lunch and hiked over to one of the parks in her neighborhood. We took a sheet to sit on and a kite to fly, just in case the wind picked up and brought along with it a frivolous sense of silliness. We spread the sheet under the edge of a shade tree. I sat on the sunny side of the sheet while she sat in the shade. We were sharing potato chips and some humus and torn off pieces of pita when a friendly guy came over and started to chat with us. He didn't have more than 5 words of English to string together so he kept on going in French in spite of Myriam's and my bewildered looks of concentration.

You see, if you've never tried to carry on a conversation in a foreign language, you may not realize the amount of concentration it takes to keep up. There's the initial translation which is a choppy mix of verbs and nouns and then there is an undercurrent of conversation going on in your head where you take the rough translation and polish it into terms and phrases that would be more common in your own native tongue. For example: J'ai faim. Je veux faire une recherche pour un sandwich. Means literally: I have hunger. I want in the near future to make a search for a sandwich. Which sounds ugly and cumbersome in my head, so giving the benefit of the doubt that this person is not in fact speaking like a moron, in my own tongue he would say something like : I'm hungry, so I'm gonna go grab a sandwich.

It is really energy consuming. Luckily, or unfortunately, for me my French is not fast enough to really contribute much to a conversations aside from lively facial expressions and general mutterings of assent or dissent.

Well this guy lit up a cigarette and asked if he might sit with us. We agreed to that and so he kindly sat down on the grass next to our sheet. There was plenty of space on the sheet for company, but I think he gave us a wide berth in deference to our status as strangers. He kept going with a steady stream of French, doubling back to repeat himself when he sensed he'd lost us and tossing in some helpful pantomime when he could. Myriam and I had quick conferences aside when he was paused to change subject to make sure we both were understanding roughly the same points. He spoke about the city and the weather. Then he started getting a bit poetic, explaining to us that he liked to spend time in this park talking with people. He explained that often times folks will share their troubles with him when he talks to them and he is always surprised at how similar all of our problems seem to be. He observed that we all suffer together, yet we tend to suffer separately the hardships of life.
Then he shifted into his own troubles. It seems that he'd recently been released from the Belgian penitentiary system only about 2 weeks prior (hence the spending lots of time in parks) and that he was really grateful for the small things a park can offer like grass to stretch out on in the sun, company for conversation even the occasional dog to play with. It was startling at first, to think we'd invited and ex-convict to lounge with us. But really in the grander scheme of things he was looking for the exact same thing in that park that day as Myriam and I were. A place to relax and enjoy the weather and the company. To appreciate the finer things in life.

By the time Myriam and I had to leave, this stranger had been speaking to us for nearly two hours. My head was swirling and heaving from translations. Though I was quite proud of myself for being able to keep up with just about everything he said and even when I didn't understand word for word the context was still clear to me. We left giggling about lunching with inmates but carrying a general air of pride about our progress, both of us having stepped off the airplane in Brussels 8 months ago with not a word of French. We declined to give our friendly stranger our phone numbers but parted with hugs and kissed cheeks and best wishes.