On December 23rd, 2021, I was on my way to none other than the land of the 1998 and 2018 World Cup champion: France.
Now, I am going to try my hardest to not sound exactly like Emily in “Emily in Paris,” but I can’t make any promises because I definitely came to the “land of love and wine” with doe eyes and a bubbling excitement to try everything.
But unlike the protagonist in the controversial Netflix series, I was not traveling to Paris. Instead I was taking a flight from Sevilla to Toulouse, both southern cities in Spain and France, respectively.
Toulouse sits right between the eastern coastal city of Marseille and the port city of Bordeaux. Driving south for around three hours, you will reach the great Pyrenees mountains that separates the Iberian Peninsula from the more northern European countries. During World War II when Nazi forces successfully invaded France in the summer of 1940 (what is known as the Fall of France), this enormous mountain scape would become a part of the Comet Line, an escape route that a transnational resistance organization by the same name used to help Allied soldiers and pilots cross into “Non-Billigerent” Spain.
More than seventy years later, its tall snowy peaks invite daredevil skiers to test the extent of their adventurous spirit. But the Pyrenees aren’t just for the thrill seeking visitor. Many pastoral communities living in the foothills of the mountain make money by farming. Just like the Pyrenees itself, these communities can not be defined by just one nationality or language. Based upon your location, you can encounter Basque, Catalan, Occitan, Spanish, French, Aragonese.
During my travels, however, these beautiful mountains were only dark fissures thousands of miles below, partially obscured by passing clouds.
I had arrived at the Sevilla airport hours before my time of departure, bleary-eyed, nervous about Covid restrictions (don’t get me started on the EU certificate) but above all else, buzzing with excitement.
I was also drenched.
According to a friend, the last time it rained in Sevilla was in October. And according to an equally surprised store clerk, “nunca llueve en Sevilla.” These observations, however, did not stop the clouds from pouring, and pouring, and guess what? Pouring. But, even this somber forecast couldn’t quite quell my growing anticipation.
And so, when I finally climbed the rickety steps to my cheap Ryanair flight, I was all smiles.
As a lover of romanticizing my life, I had expected to put on my December playlist, maybe read a book and imagine the adventures to come. And miraculously, after two sudden seat changes, I found myself in my ideal location: a window seat with an entire aisle to myself.
The perfect solitary journey for a dreamer.
And then, eye contact with a stranger.
I have had this happen only a couple of times in my life, and each time is so peculiar, so gripping. There is this sudden communication that happens between two individuals. And with just a glance, a whole world of possibility opens up— a language unspoken but understood nonetheless.
She had overalls, a colorful striped shirt and killer eyebrows. I was automatically entranced.
And so instead of staying in my cocoon of “cool loner traveler” I patted the seat beside me and a two hour long conversation in Spanish, English and (a little bit of) French ensued.
She told me she was from right outside of Toulouse, but as a child would travel to French Guyana, her father’s native country. With an enthusiasm that can only come from two years spent away from my own native country, I showed her the Brazilian beaded bracelet hung on my wrist.
“We are neighbors!”
And so began the conversation. Through the sounds of babies crying, the occasional announcement from the pilot and the discomfort of our ears popping, we shared our recent life stories. She was doing her semester of Erasmus, a program that allows students from the European Union to study abroad at different institutions, in Sevilla. And with her mother had driven all the way from France to the Andalusian city months prior. In a couple of weeks time she would be permanently returning to France to complete her undergraduate studies. But for now, she was visiting loved ones for the Christmas holiday.
We had that in common.
I was visiting my high school best friend that I hadn’t seen since graduation in 2017. And so even though I knew that classes in Mengíbar, the city that I work at, would end on December 22nd, I had been anticipating this trip for weeks.
Although I was thrilled by the idea of seeing such a long-time friend, one thing was hanging over my head: my horrible French. For just a snapshot of how clueless I am, when I was briefly in the Paris airport last year, I repeatedly asked for l’acqua.
“L’acqua, s’il vous plait,” I said— not once but multiple times with wayyyy too much confidence.
L’acqua, however, is not water in French like I had thought. L’eau is water. L’acqua is not a part of the French language at all. Its literally Italian. **
I blame Duolingo.
And so with this looming over our entire conversation, I blurted out, “how the hell do I speak French?!”
A laugh. And then thank god, actual help.
Like a student cramming at the last minute for a final exam, I hurriedly jotted down all of her translations— of which even after horrendous amounts of time practicing I still butchered.
“Je vais prendre”
“Ou sont les toilettes s’il vous plait?”
“Est-ce que je peux avoir l’addition?
“Ou est…?”
“Ca m’a fait plaisir de te recontrer”
Speaking with the most French accent I could muster, I attempted to replicate the fluid way she spoke. Hers sounded like gourmet melted chocolate. Mine more like a dollar store version of Snickers. Nonetheless, there was something exhilarating about taking an impromptu language lesson on an international flight— an exchange that solidified how transnational and translinguistic so many of my recent interactions in Spain (and now France) had been.
For instance, when I went to the Thursday mercadillo in Jaén to scour for a larger bag to use for my travels to France, I conversed with a charming seller in Arabic, Portuguese, English and Spanish. Okay, sure most of my broken Arabic was just memorized lines from Arabic 101 like,
“Allughat alearabia jamila katira” (don’t spell check that)
“Arabic is such a beautiful language”
And his Portuguese was just repeated,
“Alegria, Samba, Alegria”
But it was a wholesome experience nonetheless. And although the interaction lasted for barely a minute, I left with a smile on my face.
So when I eventually had to say au revoir to my newly made friend, I reflected on how impromptu and organic the whole interaction had been: if I had been placed in a different seat, and if the boyfriend had never asked to sit next to his girlfriend and then if the husband didn’t move to sit next to his wife…and on and on, I would have never made a new friend. So even though these moments happened by chance, it felt like they were also meant to happen.
My automatic response was to scrawl Serendipity in my journal.
Serendipity – “the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.”
Serendipity seemed the best way to explain the off chance that I would have made a friend on a Ryanair flight. But after more reflection, I also realized that while the moment was of course brought about by random occurrences, it also happened because we both shared a desire and a willingness to get to know each other.
We both could have easily said a quick, “hola,” and then gone back to our own little worlds, never so much as thinking about the stranger to our side. Instead, our introductions were coupled with a curiosity and an openness to get to know each other.
And so maybe a better way to describe my interaction would be with a quote by Portuguese politician Jose Manuel Barrosso, “sometimes what people call serendipity is just having your eyes (or ears) open.”
Later that night during dinner, I took a snapshot of my first meal in France.
“My friend got Foie Gras!!” I texted.
She replied, “Omggggg Foie Gras and Cheese 😂 so french, hope you enjoyed!”
Foie Gras, Cheese, Wine, and a new friend—Yes, so French indeed.
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