When my Spanish friend Honorato moved to Sweden in February, he had all kinds of new friends within just a few weeks. When I asked him how he did it, he said “Easy. I went into a bar, listened for a Spanish accent, and introduced myself.”
Dave and I agreed long ago that we didn’t want move to France and only have American friends. But since it seems that making French friends is a long and arduous process, we’ve recently discussed finding some Americans to at least have someone to talk to about the experience.
So when I walked past the bar on the corner of our street on Monday night and heard a distinct American accent, I decided to take the initiative.
The fact that the accents belonged to a pair of girls made it infinitely easier to be forward and introduce myself. They looked to be a few years older than me, and I found one of them to be quite agreeable (the other a little obnoxious but whatever). The less interesting girl had lived in Paris for four years, and the agreeable girl was married to a French guy and had only been there for a year. “And my French is bad” she added. I liked her immediately.
They said they came to the bar for the cheeseburgers and cheap drinks. I had no idea that cheeseburgers could be found only a block and a half from our apartment. That sounds like trouble for the future.
So I wrote down my phone number and asked to be invited sometime if they’re ever there again. If they call me, great. If not, no harm done.
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