Some accents were better than others, but the students exhibited an ease and confidence I found intimidating. Regardless of their nationalities, everyone spoke what sounded to me like excellent French. Vacations were recounted, and questions were raised concerning mutual friends with names like Kang and Vlatnya. My school is the Alliance Française, and on the first day of class, I arrived early, watching as the returning students greeted one another in the school lobby. I've moved to Paris in order to learn the language. At the age of forty-one, I am returning to school and having to think of myself as what my French textbook calls "a true debutant." After paying my tuition, I was issued a student ID, which allows me a discounted entry fee at movie theaters, puppet shows, and Festyland, a far-flung amusement park that advertises with billboards picturing a cartoon stegosaurus sitting in a canoe and eating what appears to be a ham sandwich.
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