The woman in the elevator had Clorox white hair, youthful skin and blue eyes. She mentioned how beautiful the bouquet was that I was holding with its yellow roses, red berries and flowers whose name I didn't know but added red and orange and a bit of pink color to the mix. The entire bouquet was wrapped in yellow paper.
We recognized each other as Anglophones and switched to English immediately.
"May I ask where you are from," I asked. I deliberately used the "May I" permission to ask a question, one of my habits when asking a Brit a question. It is a formality that oils conversations without the recipient being aware. Another is saying "bonjour" before anything else of a salesclerk in a French store.
We quickly established she was originally from Northern Scotland. I told her how much I loved her country and pointed out the two tiny thistles in the bouquet. Thistles vie for my favorite flower along with violets.
The conversation melded into the stupidity of the Swiss and UK governments not to give work permits to talented foreigners that could add to their economies--the waste of human resources.
In the garage we separated wishing "bonne weekend" to each other.
Once again, I was grateful to my parents for modeling talking to strangers. Exchanges, no matter how brief, add color and warmth to my day.
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