madame

Madame likes to talk about politics and she hates to have her photo taken. Yesterday madame and i had sat on the bench and we chatted for nearly 2 hours under the clear blue sky. we talk about Singapore, France, the nice weather, unemployment in France, George Bush, our families and nearly everything under the sun literally and figuratively( cos its was practically a cloudless day).

Insightful and encouraging, she had made me realised how shallow I am. she kindly corrected my french as we exchanged our life stories. I was told that philosophy is a compulsory modules in french education. She talked about Socrates and Plato like as if she has known then for years. I can only give my 2 cents worth which I believed she had already known only that she hasn't gone about telling me about it yet. From the star of David around her neck, I guessed that she's Jewish and she went on to tell me about her experience during the second world war. Her stories about how she had gone to the United States and how she wished her American granddaughter would pick up French so as to not forget her roots.

When it was my turn to share about my life, I wondered about how my mere 20 years of existence would actually interest her. I had no life lessons to pass to her, no interesting stories to share and worst of all not enough french vocabulary to adequately express my feelings and opinions. I told her about my school years (which is nearly all my lives), my friends, my interests, national service in Singapore, constellations and the stories behind them and how to use the Orion's Belt to identify the other constellations. She sat and listened attentively.

When we were about to part, she held my hand and wished me bonne chance. I thanked her and bided her farewell. I realised old people want others to talk to them. I walked away, turning back once to wave at her, I wondered if I would meet the madame again. If I do meet her again I'll ask for her name.

The moment she held my hands, I felt i was being appreciated.