Our not-so-faux amis

For our final week in Paris we've been busy seeing friends before we go. Tuesday night was poker night, Wednesday night a concert, Friday night a going away party. Last Sunday we went to the Pop-In for the ol' open mike night, but we got there just after the entire rest of France and decided it was too crowded to stay.

A few of us ended up, therefore, on the patio of an Italian restaurant just down the street. My French friend Marco and I were discussing false cognates (he speaks miraculous English) and I listed my two favorites:

1. Je suis en retard. (I am late.) From looking at it you should be able to see why it is a funny false cognate.

2. En cas d'affluence, ne pas utiliser les strapontins. This is a sign posted on the inside of the metro: It means that if it gets crowded, you can't use the folding seats. But I can't shake the idea that in case you're suddenly affluent, you shouldn't use the seats. I imagine a person riding along on the folding seat, receiving a telephone call (phones work in this metro system), and discovering suddenly that he/she has won the lottery. He/she is elated about this, but has to get up from his/her folding chair. No matter: Now he/she can afford a cab.

Marco asked me again what I called these misleading linguistic relationships, so I repeated: "False cognates."

"Ah," he said. "Do you know what we call them in French?"

"No."

"Faux amis." Which means, literally, "false friends."

We eyed each other suspiciously.

Incidentally, Marco's musical persona is Marco le Recidiviste, which doesn't mean Marco who recedes. It means Marco the Repeat Offender. Just so you know. Also, for the record, he is not at at all a false friend, and neither are any of our others here, though we've known them for a comparatively short time. The traveling friendships one develops with other people who are far from home are fascinating in their quickness, intensity and transience. We are all so eager to replicate that feeling of home - having people who know us, and people whose lives are of interest - and yet, of course, we are nowhere near settled.

Which is one reason I'm so excited to be coming home.

One other friend of sorts that we have to say goodbye to is Paris herself. Over the past nine months I've at times been immune to her charms. I've even spent whole days complaining about the murky weather, which in retrospect I think is still fair. But today, wandering around with Michael on our Last Lazy Saturday in the Marais, I remembered again that Paris is a beautiful and fabulous city. Passing by markets, having noisettes at outdoor cafes, admiring the Place des Voges, and shopping for delicious tea I remembered:

I am going to miss this place.