We took my exchange student to the airport this afternoon so she could fly to Dallas … London … Toulouse … and then finally drive here, to Figeac. I have been taken to the airport many times by people in poorer countries who had enjoyed my visit and did not know when they would see me again, if at all. This time it was I who stayed behind.
Home from the airport we ate pralines we had made with the pecans that had fallen from the trees, and looked at my latest pottery. We talked about garrets in Paris and the difficulty of work and visas, and about how we need to double our salaries. Nobody else wants to be 23 again but I would.
My exchange student changed us. With her being from where she is from we were excited to discuss the Roland and the route to Santiago. We knew Artaud had been confined at Rodez, we knew Bernat de Ventadorn. We are romantic souls but my exchange student is more modern. We learned how to do Zumba and root for our team.
We are enchanted with my exchange student who is from a different France than the one we know, and who introduced some wonders of our country to us.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 