Hilary Larson , Travel Writer http://www.thejewishweek.com My friend Kathy recently returned from a trip to France. It was her second trip to the country, after perhaps a 20-year interval; for her husband, who was there to collect a journalism prize, it was the first time in France. They spent a few days in Paris, and then traveled up the Norman coast.“He just loved it. He’s telling everyone it was the best trip we’ve ever taken,” she reported afterward. “And what about you?” I asked. A pause. As it turns out, since her husband doesn’t speak the language, the entire burden of communication was on Kathy’s (still-impressive) high school French, which was exhausting in a country where — how to put this delicately? — speaking English doesn’t always open doors with a smile. I could just picture this: Everywhere they went, he sat back, waited for her to figure out the menu or the train schedule, and then enjoyed the crêpes or the glass of Bordeaux or scenic ride tha
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