Other Sunny Day in the Port

I sit at a café with restaurants on both sides. The sun it out and shining over the thick market building onto my face. Many of the buisnesses are closed for lunch, and people walk around with baguettes and little quiches and sandwiches in hand. There are students here, colorful and relaxed, drinking in the afternoon. The ladies at the table besides me order fresh-squeezed juice of some kind and pull their packed lunches (the french call any pre-made lunch a Pic-Nic) out of their bags. They place yogurt containers, tupperwares of rice and veggies, and fruit onto the table. A woman from a restaurant across the way walks into the café with a plate of steaming potatoes, veggies and ham. She comes out empty-handed, having delivered someone's lunch.

 Noticing this, I take a handful of muesli bread from my bag. I crave this bread full of dried fruit and soft almonds everyday. To my right, at Kabob Oasis, cylinders of lamb spin on the spit. A man brings meaty sandwiches to a table of men at the café. The lines are far less rigid here. Food and business moves freely and comfortably between cafés, restaurants and the market. I enjoy being in the middle of this, watching the exchanges happen, primarily those of friendly recognition that seem to accompany service.

Does that second picture hurt your eyes? Mine too. After I stood up from that table to walk down a shaded side street I could only see spots.

 I have the feeling often, here, that things are happening around me that I don't fully understand. For instance, I wonder if it is alright for me to be here. The students have left and the café is full of gray, older men who all seem to know each other. A couple men stand on the ledge of the café, not on the sidewalk and not inside. Have things actually shut down for midday? At least they are kind enough to let me stay. I wish I could drink espresso after espresso without going loony.

I don't know the purpose of these flags that just sprung up, but they looked like a special occasion, twirling in the wind. I'll probably talk about France's sentiments towards America at a later date, but for now, they like us much more than I expected. They are also proud of us for Occupy Wall Street and for Obama. To both I've heard, "I didn't think the Americans had it in them."