Chapter 1 First Encounter of the French Kind I did'nt know what to say to the naked french girl relaxing at the edge of the pool when her eyes met mine and she expressed, Bonjour as nonchalantly as requesting the hour of day. I needed to be hip and offer something clever and shrewd like Nice tan line or, cutesier, would you like to be my friend through correspondence for, I dont know, forever? But I was new to the French language, and the main thing I could imagine was ? oeWhere is the railroad station? which truly didnt appear to fit the circumstance. It was not whenever I first had been perplexed in France. That began on Day One of a yearlong language course in Grenoble. It was 1971 and the Vietnam War was seething. I was an outspoken opponent and was conceded an elective help with the Mennonites. My significant other, Nita, and I enrolled for a three-year term: one year in Grenoble to learn French followed by two years in Algeria where we showed English in a Berber mountain town. At the point when the late spring of our most memorable year in France had shown up, I concluded it would be a decent encounter for me to go to a fourteen-day acting camp supported by the University of Grenoble show division. The camp was to be held at a retreat community close to Dijon, which was around 200 miles from Grenoble.
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