The Friendly French

Let me get out of my Fifth Floor Flat today....and fly away to Greece.

Yes, I visited Greece a few years back and anxiously tried to cover all the famous spots. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, having heard and read so much about the country and its civilization, the reality somehow did not measure up to those it. For example one had heard about Greek women being compared to Goddesses and Greek men to handsome Gods. Some how I did not have the privilege of seeing may of that category. But let us move further.

I was on a day trip to Delphi. A few hours of bus ride and we were at the foot of the mountain where Delphi stood. The climb was neither too tough nor too long, however I did need to stop at regular intervals to catch up my breath.

At one such stop I heard a loud Group of tourists climbing down the path. They have done the climb and are therefore happy, I tried to justify the loudness of the Group. And soon the Group appeared. There were about a dozen men and women, in shorts of all sizes, but uniformly overfed, if not obese. Yes, that was a group of American tourists. Soon they disappeared on the down hill path but their voices and conversation still audible in the air.

The next next sounds reminded me of sweet chirping of birds. Those were from another Group of tourists descending from Delphi. Having spent hundreds of hours at the Alliance Francaise and some years in France, I could make out that it was a French Group. I understood that they were talking in French but what, I could not decipher.

As the Group appeared, I saw a mixed crowd of men and women young and old. My eyes at once fell on an extremely pretty young lady. She was dressed in colourful clothes and was carrying a baby tied to her with an attractively printed cloth. She was holding the child as if she was carrying a treasure rather than a weight on her back. To me it appeared top be a perfect picture of celebration of motherhood. She appeared happy and full of joie de vivre.

I soon recovered from the trance, wished her in broken French and asked if I could take her photo with the baby (the French word for baby is a delightful ‘be’be’. She readily agreed. The rest of the Group politely went over to one side and I took this photo. While leaving she rewarded me with a lovely smile.

And who says that the French are not friendly?