Every day, life gives us opportunities for forgiveness, with travel being no exception. It happened just over a week ago as my daughter, grandchildren and I stood in line to get into Versailles. As we moved along in front of the palace, we exchanged pleasantries with a German couple in front of us and an Asian family behind us. The queue wove up and down in an orderly and obvious way; no confusion for anyone…well at least that what we thought… and here’s where the forgiveness comes in.
All at once two French women were standing between us and the Asians. Where did they come from? Since they were behind us, I didn’t say anything, but then a family of four started easing its way in front of our German friends. When the German man spoke to them, they feigned ignorance and acted confused, and then quietly slipped in behind us. But where were the French women? I walked on ahead and found them simultaneously taking photographs and slipping (cutting) into the line. When I returned to our spot, I was amazed to count fourteen people between us and our Asian friends.
So what am I to do about this, or rather how am I to respond as a person longing for silence, solitude and simplicity? As a start, I don’t have to take it on. I can let go of the righteous indignation that I felt. Cutting in line seems to be a cultural thing, something the French do. I don’t have to like it, nor do I have to be judgmental about it. After all, we Americans have our share of abrasiveness when we travel, particularly when we complain about the lack of efficiency and laissez-faire attitudes of others.
Finally, I don’t have to let it ruin my time--which it didn’t. With forgiveness, with letting it go, the incident became no more than a minor observation. Without a doubt, the observations worth keeping are the Palace and Gardens of Versailles.
All at once two French women were standing between us and the Asians. Where did they come from? Since they were behind us, I didn’t say anything, but then a family of four started easing its way in front of our German friends. When the German man spoke to them, they feigned ignorance and acted confused, and then quietly slipped in behind us. But where were the French women? I walked on ahead and found them simultaneously taking photographs and slipping (cutting) into the line. When I returned to our spot, I was amazed to count fourteen people between us and our Asian friends.
So what am I to do about this, or rather how am I to respond as a person longing for silence, solitude and simplicity? As a start, I don’t have to take it on. I can let go of the righteous indignation that I felt. Cutting in line seems to be a cultural thing, something the French do. I don’t have to like it, nor do I have to be judgmental about it. After all, we Americans have our share of abrasiveness when we travel, particularly when we complain about the lack of efficiency and laissez-faire attitudes of others.
Finally, I don’t have to let it ruin my time--which it didn’t. With forgiveness, with letting it go, the incident became no more than a minor observation. Without a doubt, the observations worth keeping are the Palace and Gardens of Versailles.
