in which i almost bring "taken" to life, visit A.P.C. and learn a song on the piano

Today I woke up really late (around 11:00 instead of 5:00, so ha! take that jet lag). I actually ended up playing piano for almost two hours, practicing "Avril 14th" from Sofia Coppolla's "Marie Antoinette" (below), before I actually drank my coffee and got myself to the bustop. Since I'm saving all the expensive museums and monuments for the month of July (when I have a student museum pass) I decided to head up to the 18th arondissment to visit Sacre Couer (which is free) and the A.P.C. outlet.

Since the 18th arrondisment is on the exact opposite side of Paris from my uncle's apartment, it took at least an hour by bus and Metro to get to the Sacre Couer stop, right next to the Red Light district (Roxanne, anyone?). Two reasons why it was probably not the best choice for my first day. (Since my uncle's Meudon la Forét apartment is just outside Paris city limits, today marked my first real adventure in Paris.) The streets, packed with overflowing shops sellng knock-offs and espadrilles reminded me a lot of San Fracisco's China Town. I was trying to cross the street in the general direction of the boutique and Sacre Couer. A young man started calling "Madmoiselle! Madoiselle!" behind me. I tried to duck down the street but he followed me. Moving cars blocked the crosswalk, so I couldn't slink away. He caught up to me and spoke quickly in French. I had no idea what he was saying, only that I didn't want him to touch me or my purse.

"Non."

He looked confused. I guess "non" didn't fit the context.

"You speak English?" he asked.

"Oui."

"You are very pretty," he told me.

"Merci." I didn't know what to do. It takes a measure of wit and quick-thinking to avoid unsolicited attention even in English. I didn't know how to even begin in French. He asked if I had a boyfriend (I lied and said yes), asked how old I was (he said he was 22) and if I was American.

When I said I was from California, he pumped a fist in the air. "Barack Obama!" I had to smile and agree.

He said he didn't know the store I was looking for, but pointed me in the direction of the church. Hundreds of warnings about the danger of accepting directions from strangers with unknown motives thundered through my head (paranoid, yes, but then, I was all alone). And then, he decided he would walk me to the boutique himself.

Not sure what else to do, I followed him apprehensively. He told me he was Arabian, that his English was very bad and that he was visiting New York and Las Vegas on his upcoming vacation. I told him I had had never been to Las Vegas, that I loved New York, and prayed that I wasn't being led into some sort of pre-arranged crime scene.

His English was just about as bad as my French. He kept asking me questions about an "epicerie"(a grocery store). I thought he was asking me to lunch. I said "Non, merci." He looked even more confused.

Three times he stopped other people (always other Arabs) and asked if they spoke English. They tried to translate for us. I realized my mispronunciation of the "A" in "A.P.C." made the garbled word sound more like "epicerie." So he wasn't asking me to get luch with him. I was slightly relieved, but still concerned I was being led away to a human trafficking ring.

And then, as my panic reached its height, I started to recognize street names from my map. The little outlet was on a tiny, intimidating alleyway. But it was "Rue Andre del Sarte," the street I was looking for. I started to cool down just a little. My palms got a little less sweaty. He walked me into the shop and spoke quickly in French with the two, hip teenage guys working in the shop.

"You speak English?" Employee 1 confirmed.

My guide bid me "au revoir" and returned to the street, my care having been handed over to the two A.P.C. employees. It seemed luck was on my side today. They helped me find a dressing room and consulted on the shirts I was trying.

"Good choice," said Employee 2 when settled on a loose, white tunic.

Employee 1 rang me up, adding 10% to the already half-price shirt.

"Mon français est terrible," I said, embarrassed.

"Non. C'est super," they assured me. "Do you know how to get back?"