Les Nageurs. Swimmers.

I finally went swimming this morning and it felt amazing to be in the water, again! I have only been once because the walk to the pool is dreary in the cold and rainy weather, but it was worth it to swim for an hour! At first I thought that the other swimmers would make the experience less enjoyable, but the constant splashes and traffic actually magnifies the pleasure of swimming for me. Each swimmer has his or her own agenda and about every few strokes, an impatient swimmers strokes you in an all too friendly way, but I feel connected to these half-naked strangers by our love of swimming. Plus, the tangled mess of bodies reminds me of high school swimming and I almost feel as if I am back on the team. The gentleman tapping on my toes is oblivious to the fact that I could not have a successful conversation in French, because we communicate with our bodies. You don’t need to study a language to know to move over when another person is about to run into you going the opposite direction!
I feel French for the first time, swimming in the local pool with my neighbors because we all look and act alike in our swimsuits, caps and goggles. It feels nice to know that the French at least swim like Americans, because all of their other habits are so different to those of the only culture that I have ever known. Of course I love learning that the French believe that it is absurd to use toilet paper to blow your nose, unlike Americans, who sit with a roll at their desk, and yet every now and then, I enjoy people who share my habits, as well. My ego also enjoys occasionally passing a French swimmer in his or her own country, after being pushed, shoved and looked at by Parisians for weeks! ; )
After the pool, I went back home and made myself some delicious poached eggs. I don’t know why, however there is something about the rich and vibrant quality of egg yolks that makes me feel like royalty! I haven’t had many chances to cook in Paris, and so it is a special treat to make something as simple as oatmeal! A warm bowl of oatmeal is particularly satisfying here because it is so not French, and I feel like I am cheating. Its strange how I find joy in solidarity, as well as in feeling different, and yet I think the key is the balance between the two, and feeling like I have some control over when I feel one or the other. There have been moments in Paris when no matter what I did, I felt lost and even worse, like everyone knew that I was foreign. When I think about it now, that seems silly because after all, I am only an American in Paris, which is far from strange, compared to my friends studying in more exotic locations in Morocco, India, and in Latin American countries. Then again, perspective is relative and I can’t help but feel like an alien when I can’t recharge my cell-phone minutes, although it is as easy as listening to an interactive voice message, and typing in a few numbers! I just have to remind myself to be patient and that foreign is foreign! Even if two culture’s differences aren’t so obvious in a the big picture, in reality, cultures are unique because of their simple and daily routines and how they vary in tiny, yet significant ways. I should be used to feeling bizarre, after all, because every time I visit Miami it feels less and less familiar, and more like a Latin American country! I am a minority when I order my mom a Cuban coffee at Ruben’s just a few blocks from my house, however it helps to know that I am in America and not a long plane-ride away.