One of my art teacher's friends had recommended we met her at her tennis club. Since we don't have a car we decided to investigate the bus situation. We arrived at the Tourist Office where they sell the bus tickets. Jeff tried one line and was told we needed to go to the long line- almost out the door long line.
While I was waiting in line, I overheard some old ladies complaining about the wait. The city has recently computerized their bus passes and all the older people needed to get new passes. In recent days there has been an additional attendant to handle these matters. As the ladies' grumbling got more heated, I felt I should add my 2 cents worth. As they nodded their agreement with my "beef" I felt I was making some in-rows in assimilating to the culture.
After the long wait, I was told we needed to go to the bus station to get a County bus. When we got there, the attendant told us we needed to go back to the Tourist Office. Feeling like a ping pong ball, we persuaded the attendant to go the extra mile. After listening to our broken French she took pity on us and looked up the information in the internet.
She then told us-- with a slight smile and an emphasis on the word tennis-that we would have to walk a little bit from the bus stop to play tennis. I got the hint and told her in very bad French that if we could play tennis, we should be able to walk. The people in line seemed to get my attempt at humor and laughed.
While I was waiting in line, I overheard some old ladies complaining about the wait. The city has recently computerized their bus passes and all the older people needed to get new passes. In recent days there has been an additional attendant to handle these matters. As the ladies' grumbling got more heated, I felt I should add my 2 cents worth. As they nodded their agreement with my "beef" I felt I was making some in-rows in assimilating to the culture.
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