Outside it is really cold. I am trying to escape the icy temperatures that freeze you to the bone. I’m sitting in a café, waiting for a friend to arrive. Being there early I order a café crème and a croissant, the quintessence of French breakfast if you ask me. I am really getting used to this way of living and mostly to the perks coming along with it. A café crème and a fresh croissant, it doesn’t get much better than that. Yet, it is ordinary here.

There are not many people around, it is barely 8 in the morning. Two strangers sitting at the bar engage in a discussion. It is quite enjoyable to overhear them. One is reading the newspaper and the other one inquires about sports, specifically about the results of the handball national team at the world championship. France won. They go on discussing Slovenia, the team France will meet in the next round. From behind his counter the owner of the restaurant jumps in the conversation. Handball is a big thing in France. The national team has a special status, its players are not as flamboyant as the football ones, they seem to be more ground to earth and are clearly not on the same level, people tend to admire them.

An ordinary morning in FranceJazz music is playing in the  background, I get lost in the music and the men’s voices. The conversation now moves on to politics, the presidential election is just a step away in France. The three men agree politicians should cut their wages by two to prove they are into politics for the people and not for their personal enrichment.

Sipping my coffee, eating my croissant and ear dropping on the local’s conversation I feel a sense of serenity. This is life. This is my life. This is just an ordinary morning in France.