Un homme fraicais

I haven't quite started the trip and I'm already writing...but you'll soon see why.
Like I mentioned in my previous post, my studying in France is not only an old wish of mine, but also of my mother, aunts, uncle, cousins, etc. By physically being abroad, I am fulfilling the desires of many and I hope that by writing this blog they may see part of what I see, breathe some of the french air, and have a sensation of life in France.
This post, however, isn't particularly about me. Funny enough, it's about my mother. More precisely, my mother and her first love, a frenchman named Daniel, who lived in Colombia for two years. That's where the story begins, with a twenty-two year old version of my mother in Bogota meeting a mustaschioed, long-haired frenchman that swept her off her feet and stole her heart. Although I wasn't even in existence at this point, I feel like I was there as jealous neighbors peered out their windows when the bright-blue car Daniel had shipped from France pulled up to pick my mom up for dates and outings. The man who took my family on roadtrips and found thrill in life. I can imagine this intellectual who, according to my mother, loved to learn and equally loved Colombia. Two years, however, ellapsed as fast as one can imagine when love enchants two individuals, and Daniel returned to France.
The split isn't something we regularly talk about, but contact was eventually lost and their lives took different turns. I've always known about Daniel as the frenchie (by my step-dad), el frances, the intellectual, the man with the blue Pijot and the first love, but 26 years after leaving Colombia, I will meet Daniel and the same age my mother met him. To me, it's a funny concept to experience a now much older Daniel as my mother might have 26 years ago. More peculiar is that after years of trying to find this old-friend, only a month ago, after my plans to go to France were finalized, a friend of my mother's contacted her to talk about Daniel and the wonders of facebook. So, when I arrive in France I will meet Daniel and see where this story goes. Call it cheese, romantic, whatever you will, but how often do you get the chance to see who your mother fell in love with...
Until then, however, this nomad is 0-u-t. :)