When the poetaster complained to a train-riding, vineyard-owning, English speaking French woman of the French refusal to speak English, she replied: “When you are in France, you should speak French. That’s the trouble with you Americans when visiting another country; you think everyone should speak your language.” Then, observing the poetaster’s red whiskers, she added, “You must be Irish; don’t the Irish drink a lot?”
Spanish chatter of their fellow travelers, simple folks with bundles and crates of chickens, grew as they crossed the border like refugees in the depths of the Iberian night. Finally in the lights of the Barcelona station--- oh, the pretty Catalan girls among the old men and women! Such beauty awoke the two despite the late hour of the day. Knowing tourists when he saw them, a wiry gent escorted Paul and poetaster to the Pension Francia for a late supper of steak and eggs . . . which were never served again.
I dont think all Irish drink themselves to death. Not everyone in my area owns a horse. Point made by our super sweet french woman there. We did save their asses by the germans in WW2. Haha couldn't help myself. (I like the French, dont tell anyone).
I like how this is going, Mr. T. Glad to be along for the ride.
Love msg in top verse! It's true, we Americans DO expect everyone to speak English. Some around these parts get quite uppity about the failure to do so by dark-skinned immigrants who chose to reside in USA. Your storytelling really brings out the crux of traveling -- interesting characters one meets! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie
More of the culture clashing, excellent. A common language does not always mean a shared idea. That's well-expressed in that first stanza. Travel can be humbling and a growing experience if we are open to its lessons, I suppose. I like that those things are left for the reader to decide here.
And of course, more of the scenery and local flavor of the destinations. Fun story to read, Tom. Hope there's more to come.
Once more you describe the journey through France through the eyes of two boys, told in narrative poetry as you recall this adventure and share it with us all.
Started reading and writing poetry while in the Army many years ago. I picked up a book of poems by Leonard Cohen in a bookshop on Monterrey CA's Fisherman's Wharf and went on from there. I've had a n.. more..