There was a man, a French man with tie dye and a Jamaican beanie with a large mole on his lip, who looked to me and said, Bonjour, I have resurvashon for tin peeple.
I said," ah wi?"
he said, "wi!"
Little did I know that I was checking in a wonderfully odd and eclectic French traveling grass band.
"Will you please play for us, wi?
"aahhh, wiiii!"
Oh what a day when they set up to play right in the parking spots in front of the hostel, trumpeting away and yelling in French and umpa lumpaing to the beat.
From their large red hats, to the old rusty Tuba covered in stickers, and the tie dye shirts, mine eyes did not know where to look. It was overwhelming in the most beautiful and odd way, the only way you really want to ever be overwhelmed by such people.
It was such lovely entertainment as we became the center of atencion all over Newport.
Very unorganized, very odd, very French.
And I loved it.
They laughed and played and danced and then dissappeared down Newport Ave. to eat some lunch....with all of their instruments.
YEs, I do love my job.
