iTouch Translator, Red (Red) Wine and True Connection after 20 years

Paris, France: Just hours ago, I was having a glass of afternoon wine in a cafe in the middle of Paris, looking into the eyes of a man I have known almost my whole life. I have heard his voice before, trying to pronounce my name correctly (carrr-oh-leen?) and I blush at the smile he gives me, for I have gazed upon it many times before in photos. Yes, I have known this man for 20 years, but this is the first time we are meeting.


His name is Nabil and we have been pen pals since I was 12. Our written correspondence would take place every 3 months or so and consist of questions/requests like "what kind of music do you listen to?" "do you have any brothers or sisters?" and "please send photos!" Receiving those letters in the mail was such a thrill for me... a completely different type of stamp (from Algeria at the time); pictures of places I have never even dreamed of before and the knowledge that someone on the other
 side of the world wanted to know me, wanted to see me, wanted to have a connection with me.

It was hard to share the deep, meaning-of-life events that happen to all of us... mainly because of the time lapse between letters and the language barrier (he spoke fluent French and Arabic, a little Spanish and was working on English), but I just knew he was there for me... a supportive friend who had my back no matter what.

Time went on, we got busy with our lives and lost touch. But when I discovered email as a daily communication tool, we found each other again and began connecting a bit more frequently. Once again, he would be provide me with that feeling that someone out there really cares about me. In the midst of post-college life choices, broken relationships and the daily mundane to-dos, Nabil was there... to just be there.

This week, I find myself in Paris, a mere three hours from where he now resides. We plan to meet for the first time and the anticipation is overwhelming. I stand outside the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, searching the faces of passerbys on the street. Suddenly, I hear a voice and spin around to be greeted by the one who has been a part of my life for so long. After an embrace similar to the prodigal son and two kisses on each cheek, we make our way into the city for our first meeting and reunion, all in one.

The afternoon is filled with exploring the views of Paris and reminiscing on letters of long ago.  With the help of his iTouch translator, he tells me he still remember my parents' names and still has the New Kids On The Block cassette tape I sent him (ha!).  The day fades into night and he turns his Translator into an iPod, laughs and shares his headphones with me to hear "Red Red Wine" by UB40.  I'm guessing it's his attempt at using English language music to connect with me (we are, of course, drinking another glass of wine).  I laugh at the absurdity of it all, but realize as old and overplayed as that song is, it is somehow perfect... sitting in another cafe, in the middle of Paris, with this person from my past, who, although really knows nothing about me, seems to know me at the deepest level.

It is getting late and we hop on the metro to return me to my hotel.  In the courtyard of the Hilton, with a view of the Arc de Triomphe in the background, we hug again, not knowing when we will see each other again... if at all.  In this romantic city, I wonder what life would have been life had we met 10 years earlier, before he was married with 2 children (and twins on the way!), before my career had flourished, before, well... now.  But as I kiss his cheeks twice again, I know that we will continue to live our own lives as they are.  Yet, there is a connection that has been there for 20 years... and will still be there... until we meet again.  


Carolyn & Nabil in Paris!