Il n'est pas toujours facile de parler en anglais dans cette ville. Entre les Asiatiques, les Européens de l'est dont Poles seem to be the largest contingent, it must still reckon with large francophone community. We can not take two steps without running into a francophone. Judge in instead.
I stop for lunch in a cafe near Oxford Street belonging to an international chain (I do not know if it was Nero, Starbucks, Lavazza or another). I order an Earl Grey tea and ... my focus should be especially recognizable because the server continues in French. I extend a sidewalk cafe (yes, yes, a November 23, I assure you) and I notice that several pedestrians speak French.
Parenthetically, this timing was perfect, I had the impression of complete freedom, I could devote myself to drawing crisp an onlooker or a client of coffee, do one or the other photo of buildings around me, or continue to write, during the afternoon being discontinued due to illness.
No nervousness, calmness, outdoors in the sun, it feels good, without a real fish bowl, a bird without cage.
But to return to the French, the night I've been racing and bis repetita, the cashier was Zaire (he says and not Congolese Zaire). Once again, we speak French to evoke London family or his country had taken place the presidential elections.
I do not tell how many times it happened to me.
And frankly, I understand that some do not evolve into English.
There are very clear way to live in this city without speaking forge links.
the French gentlemen, you were beaten at Trafalgar , but you hold your hand. Reconquista (uh, no, that's English ...)!
And frankly, I understand that some do not evolve into English.
There are very clear way to live in this city without speaking forge links.
the French gentlemen, you were beaten at Trafalgar , but you hold your hand. Reconquista (uh, no, that's English ...)!
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