Thursday, April 16, 2009

The dangers of travel

My number was up, and today I learned what it is to have a stalker. In his Pumas, jeans, and white collared shirt, he might have even been younger than I am. At a time when I could not have predicted it - as I walked along the tourist-dotted harbor in the direction of the beach and in late afternoon - he began to follow me. I noticed his stares but was initially just annoyed to be near this obstinate-looking punk whose blond shaved hair was beginning to grow out. He was more subtle than to mimic all my movements and would stop from time to time to keep pace, but I hoped he just happened to be walking the same, popular route. Instead, when I got to the beach, he sat down the same two places where I sat down, so I'd had enough. There was no more question.

The options ran through my head. I wanted to strangle him. Or go up to him and say, "Stop following me!" But he probably didn't speak English and I don't speak French, which was likely why he singled me out. What I liked about the more cosmopolitan Paris was that I didn't stand out as much as I did in Budapest, but in little Boulogne-sur-Mer, I was a sore thumb with a bright red jacket.

I left quickly, dreading the sight of him each time I turned around. How could he be so stupid and overt? And even the busy streets were not enough comfort. What if he followed me all the way home? I considered calling the international emergency number, 112. Maybe there were cabs (unlikely). Maybe I could have stopped someone else on the street or in a shop to tell him the problem, although I don't know what that would have done. Ultimately I settled on the bus stop, asking some high school kids if there was a bus going where I was headed.

I met Alexander, the only one of them who spoke English and French (his dad on one side, his mother on the other). Though he didn't know which bus to take, he and his girlfriend Cindy offered to walk me home when I mentioned the stalker, whom I didn't see from that point on.

How much has changed from yesterday's sun to today's rain.

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