It is frustrating to have so much to say and yet so little words to express it with. Much more so if one speaks in a foreign tongue altogether. Unfortunately this is what came to pass on my first day here in Paris, France. The first night was a complete and utter disaster. Despite the fact that I was well versed in English, Spanish and my native tongue, Tagalog, the French still could not make heads or tails of what I spoke nor and vice-versa. They stared at me as if I were spewing some kind of ghastly disease instead of asking for the latrine! The only option I had left due to my full bladder was to search for the cursed bathroom myself. It took me a good half hour until I finally resigned myself to acting like a barbarian and conducting my business in the bushes behind the main building. Thankfully I was not spotted and thus I made my way back to my rooms. This incident by the way, never happened – a simple act of desperation.
The next morning I had made up my mind; I would enroll myself in a French language class in order to prevent the duplication of last night’s happenings. I’m actually looking forward to these sessions; they say French is one of the most romantic of verbal communications. And lately, I have spied an abundance of European beauties I might be able to practice on. Viva la France!
Pepe
(Isabelle Ocier 072487)
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