On Speaking English

I really think the Eiffel Tower is a little overrated, but I still insist on visiting to take pictures of it. For all it’s uselessness, it does make a pretty snapshot. After romping around on the Champ de Mars, I am making my way back to the RER C stop to head back to the Cité. Behind me, a British couple examine a map and call, “Excuse me!”

I turn around, and they ask, “Where is the nearest metro stop?” They speak in English and point to the map. I reply, giving them directions about how they should turn around right at the corner and walk two blocks down the street. It is sunny, and the man squints as I gesture ahead of me. They nod and smile. The woman folds their map.

The man smiles and says, “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem.”

As I am about to walk away, he tells me, “You speak very good English. Have you been learning for many years?”

I turn to face him. “I’m American.”

The man and woman blink. They look sheepish and astonished.

“I’m studying abroad for the fall, so yes, I hope I would speak pretty good English.”

1 thought on “On Speaking English”

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