Commuting
Although we are blessed to have a car because of our need to travel throughout the mission doing Welfare & Self-Reliance, we mostly travel by train and metro and sometimes bus throughout the Paris a area. Sometimes it’s standing room only with all the seats taken, especially on the metro, and sometimes it’s like we have a semi-private railroad car.
To travel in sometimes extremely close proximity to absolute strangers requires a certain aloofness balanced by necessity with a simple courtesy that exemplifies France’s motto of “liberté, égalité, fraternité.”
Still, there are moments of connection among commuters. When a train doesn’t leave a stop promptly, everyone starts looking around at one another and, then, when there’s an announcement that everyone needs to switch trains, everyone throws up their hands, shaking their heads muttering as they gather up their things and disembark in mutual commiseration with the injustice of public transportation. Because we stand out as Americans, whenever there’s a garbled announcement in French and we look puzzled, someone always tells us what’s happening. 
There are also some personal connections between individuals, like when a well-dressed businessman (who works for the ministry of justice) sat across from us and after a few minutes asked us how our church is different from other churches. After stammering a bit, Delys and I rose to the occasion, and the three of us had an amicable conversation. Now, we’re always ready for such questions and carry pass-along cards. We like making friends with young children, keeping them amused to help out their caregivers, who always thank us and bid us a friendly farewell when they exit the train. 
The other day, the train was really crowded in the middle of Paris, with lots of people hauling luggage, but everyone seemed primed to help out, especially with the ones entering or exiting the train. Also, always to my chagrin, I’ve had younger people stand up and offer me their seats, which I politely decline while thanking them for their offer: “Merci, mon ami, je suis vieux mais pas encore si vieux que ca.” [Thanks, my friend, I’m old but not yet that old.] They always smile and nod their heads with mutual understanding. Our missionary life here is full of moments like that.
Your parents would have loved reading these posts, Phil. Your description of Parisian commuters possessing "a certain aloofness balanced by necessity with a simple courtesy that exemplifies France’s motto of 'liberté, égalité, fraternité' could have applied to them as well, and I think they would have felt as at home in France as they did in Fullerton.
ReplyDeleteRe being old, but not yet that old: While it's discomfiting to realize that I must look advanced enough in years to move other passengers to offer me their seat, I've begun accepting such invitations more often--maybe not so much because I need to sit down, but because by doing so, I can allow the person making the offer to feel fully satisfied for his or her magnanimity. So it becomes a kind of mutual service opportunity.