The way we were. Young. Well sort of. Young as in younger than today.
Back in 1986 French Husband travelled around the USA in an old beat up car. Beat up as the door on the right side did not open. But that didn't worry me, even though I barely knew the guy who spoke little English. I got in on his side.
Yann was 25 I was 29. We were married in California. I was his "souvenir" from his holiday abroad.
I moved to France. Paris was beautiful. I was in love. But it wasn't as easy as that. The adjustment was nearly unbearable: The zero language skills, the cultural differences, the lack of money in the land of plenty, my family living on the other side of the world, Yann working all day long...it was cold, grey and international phone calls were five dollars a minute.
We lived in a studio near Les Halles, a street over from the Red Light District.
Yesterday, our friend Andrea from California sent me the above photo. Since Yann and I have a photo or two of ourselves during that time, a flood of memories have filled my mind.
Thank you Andrea.