Montparnasse is a busy metro stration, and stategically placed at one of its most frequented exits is Blondi. That's Blondi, without an E, to emphasize the masculin. Blondi is of medium build, curly-headed, and potentially Brazilian, Portugese, or maybe Spanish. He is also the most energetic and enthusiastic fruit-seller Paris has.
Every day, Blondi stands at the base of the steps leading down from my street and into the metro. To his right, a wall. To his left, the continuously clacking doors of the metro exits. BOOM. BOOM! Ba-BOOM!
Blondi apparently doesn't mind, he just shouts over the noise.
"Mama mia! These orange come straight from Marocco! You've never seen more beautiful oranges in your life!!! Look, I'll open them... perfecto!"
"These avocados! Do you know how declicious these avocados are? Hey, beautiful young lady! Stop and look at the beautiful avocados!"
"Dear sir! You're going to be amazed by my strawberries. They're perfect, and so red and tasty!"
These kinds of phrases are all shouted at high volumes, his arms flailing and gesturing and holding up fruit, all in one fluid motion shrouded in a mass of bouncing, curly hair. Sometimes, he wears a hat, just to keep the hair out of the way.*
I love Blondi in a way I can't quite understand. He's part of the colorful backdrop that is my neighborhood - I see him almost daily, and his attitude never fails to be almost freakishly positive. Personally, I'm a little afraid to buy fruit from him, as he tends to make a spectacle out of the buying-and-selling process. But I can't help but be impressed by his motivation to sell, and his obvious love for what many would consider to be a horrible job.
Today, I especially liked his spiel. Mangos were splayed out on his fruit table, some of the cut open "artistically" so as to incite people to buy. His technique worked, apparently, as I saw several middle-aged women testing the mangos and nodding in approval. As I walked past, I heard the words "juicy" "delicious" and "perfect" in the shouting festival that is a part of Blondi's act.
Approaching, I saw him pick up a mango and cup it in his hand, like he would a newborn chick. With the other hand, he began stroking the top part of the mango.
"These mangos have the most wonderful skin... don't just eat it, you have to caress it to see how soft it is. Just like a woman."
So now I'm wondering if he, in fact, loves his fruit even more than I had thought.
* The Boy asked me two summers ago, "Why does that guy who sells fruit in the metro have such an ugly wig? And then I told him that it was actually his hair, and he said, "Wow, I hadn't considered that." Just to give you an idea of how wild this guy's hair can get.
hey, I know that guy! I bought a mango from him the other day, and was embarassed but flattered when he asked everyone at that sortie to "regarde cette jolie nana! elle est ex-TRA!" until I noticed he said about the same thing to all women who approached him. The mangos are delicious, and so are the pineapples. You should buy some someday, its not that awkward.
His hair is indeed wacky. At first I thought he had dreds, but no...
Awesome! I want to buy a mango from him some day - they always look delicious. Sometimes he has pinapples, too. I just get weird when attracting any sort of attention, and the guy is not exactly subtle, you know?