Viva la differance- The French are different

I have a dear friend. His children spent some time at my school several years ago. About 2-3 years into the relationship he and his kids and new girlfriend(story for another time) moved back to Nice, how nice.

In subsequent trips to France he has graciously opened his doors to us and showed us around one of the most beautiful places on earth. This year we will return and once again hope to connect with him and his very French family.

About two weeks ago I received an email stating that his daughter was on her way to the USA for a three week on her own vacation. From what I could gather from his rather sketchy communication he'd like it if we could talk to her on the phone or put her up for a night or take her to NYC for a day or have her live with us for 4 weeks? For the better part of 2 weeks we tried to connect via email, I'd send her a  message, she'd not respond for several days, and when she did she was vague about her plans. Well after all she was only 16! Imagine sending a 16 year old to another country where her language would be broken at best, no real plans for housing, all alone in the big city.

Finally we connected and low an behold she was in the very next town staying with some colleagues of her dad and she'd love to see us. I expected a typical, and perhaps stereotyped 16 year old citizen of the world. Jeans, high top sneakers, T-shirt, jean jacket, bulky backpack, ear buds, maybe even a slight tattoo. As the 10:40 pulled into the Glenbrook station, I noticed only one passenger get off the train as it was the 4th of July and ridership was light. Walking towards me was a striking young girl, with long brown hair, a flowing blue summer dress, designer sunglasses, a "grownup" pocket book and a smile as captivating as the Eiffel Tower. This was the little girl who 10 years ago was a first grader at my school, with very little English and a bit overwhelmed by the events that had shaped her young life.

Throughout the day she did nothing but amaze me and Joyce. She was thrilled to be in NYC, loved the vibe of Washington Square Park, spoke about the French take on immigration, reminisced with friends of ours who happened to live in the same town as she many years ago. She was so totally into Joyce's photography impromptu photo lessons and could not have been more gracious as she constantly asked, How much do I owe you for ....

I thought about my life and whether I could have done this when I was 16? The answer was a resounding NO!

There was a moment when she showed her age as she spilled a bottle of water into her pocketbook, perhaps causing irreparable damage to her phone. But even with that there was no pouting, no panic, just the typically French attitude of Se la vie, I'll figure this out.