Pick-pocket

n. the same
I have a lovely new friend that I met since moving to Paris. She’s a fellow American here to study French. She and I have bonded over the many cultural differences and challenges of adjusting to Parisian life. And we both have now found ourselves enraptured with the city. At first we joked about how I envied her since she was only here for six months and would be free to return back home. Now we’re both sad that she’s leaving and wish we could find a way to keep her here longer.

She’s been under the weather recently and only just yesterday emerged from her bed to resume her French classes and life in the city. While getting off the metro, she felt someone bump into her and something about it just didn’t feel right. Sure enough when she reached into her purse, her phone was gone.

Paris, like many European cities, is more prone to pick-pocketing and petty crime than mugging and more serious acts of violence. Still, it’s not nice when someone takes your things and this is exactly how my friend felt when she realized her phone had been pinched. She saw the two young perpetrators and proceeded to follow them. She was less fearful than exasperated and when confronting them there must have been something in her eyes, since there were no words spoken that let them know she meant business. Taking her phone was simply not an option. Without any objection, they handed it back to her, including the little worthless charm that was hanging from the holder and walked away.

She regaled us with this story over lunch at a Japanese restaurant. Many of these restaurants are actually run by Chinese since Chinese food is harder to sell here. This one was ok, but I suspect not as authentic as it could have been. For dessert, there was a strange looking apricot shaped fruit the waiter identified as a nef. Upon further googling though, I discovered that it was actually a loquat and a fruit of Southeastern China, but Japan is also a leading producer. The skin, which was shiny, was easy to peel off and the seed looked similar to that of a lychee. The fruit was tart and sweet at the same time and the consistency was something between an apple and a peach. I kept eating it and observed out loud that it was a strange sensation – not liking it at first, but then feeling like it grew on me. My husband then added – sort of like Paris and my friend and I couldn’t have agreed more.