Â I always get a kick out of children. They can be annoying as all get out but they are also so refreshingly honest and open that I find them-mostly-entertaining. Of course, the fact that I miss my own grandchildren back in Texas probably has alot to do with the fact that I am always taking photos of children.
Â I did a tour of Paris with a family of four and their two daughters, 8 and 10, were bright eyed and bushy tailed and excited to see the city. The 8 year old was a talker. I’m sure the family was glad that she had some else to talk to so that they could have a little break. She noticed that I didn’t have a French accent as she expected right away so I did a Texas accent for her. I don’t have a Texas accent but because I lived there for so long I can sure put one on. It wasn’t the last time I was requested to speak that way.
On the front of Notre Dame above the doors are some interesting sculptures. When I showed the family where an angel was leading some lucky dead to heaven and the devil was taking the unlucky to hell she spoke up and asked, “What’s hell?” So her mother and I had to do a short explanation of it. I didn’t bother to show them a devil stuffing people into a boiling cauldron as the last time I did the little boy in the family was appalled-and he was Catholic. The burning of Joan of Arc at the stakeÂ wasn’t easy to explain either.
Â She wanted to know all sorts of information about me, such as the age of my children and grandchildren, about living in Paris, if my hair was naturally red. She loved my hairstyle and told me that she liked the way it curved under on one side. I was waiting for her to mention my wrinkles but she never did. Finally she said that I wasn’t at all like she expected me to be. She thought I would have long blond hair, have a French accent and not be so old. She was upset when I ended my time with them. I think I made a new best friend.
I didn’t take a photo of her but I wish I had.