This is a little poem about my experience as a 50-something American taking a course at a French university with 17-18 year-old French students.
Blending In
The other students are young - I'm not.
The other students are French - I'm not.
I'll just try to blend in.
Waiting in the hallway for our classroom to empty,
Nonchalant students line the walls.
I'll just try to blend in.
I find an isolated space, lean casually,
And open my bottle of water.
I'm trying to blend in.
The lid falls and rolls into the centre.
Coolly, I follow, bend to retrieve it...
... And pour the contents of my open bottle onto the floor.
I anxiously search my bag for tissues,
Sheepishly mop up the puddle,
Go red-faced back to my spot along the wall,
And try to blend in.
- Margo Lestz
Obviously, I didn’t do a very good job of blending in…
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Margo has authored seven books and writes mostly about France and England. She has a BA in Liberal Studies with International Emphasis and enjoys travel, languages, history, writing, and experiencing other cultures.
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