Dublin.

Naomi is French; her parents, however, are Polish and American. She speaks four languages. (Polish, actually, isn't one of them. Neither is Hebrew, although her mother lived in Israel for many years.) Juan Carlos is Mexican; his French is quite good, and he is new to English and a bit embarrassed by it. In the course of the few days I spent with them I met a fascinating pile of people, all from different countries and most fluent in an array of languages. Sometimes we could understand one another and sometimes we couldn't, but whether we could or not I loved it. There was signing involved, and quick translations from my hosts. I drank excellent microbrewed beer while I learned about anarchist and feminist politics in Dublin and in France, about magnificent international families, about the books written by Naomi's mother, about Mexico City and Paris and Rome.

The two Mexican girls who were also staying with Naomi and Juan Carlos conspired together, and the one who spoke a bit of English pulled me aside.

"We think you are amazing," she explained. "In Mexico, we are always told that as women, we cannot do anything alone. We really believe this. So sometimes, when I am studying in Paris by myself, I cry. I am very sad because I am not with a man, and I am not sure that I can do it. But you! You are doing this by yourself, all of this travelling. We are both very... what is the word? Impressed! Yes, very impressed with you."

I argued, "But you're the amazing ones! You're doing it! I was never told I couldn't. You're the ones who are brave."

Neither of us really believed the other.

She's studying law. She's studying civil rights in Paris, and when she is a lawyer she'll return to Mexico and save the world. The other is a teacher. Mexican children go to school in two groups, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, depending upon when their mothers work. In order to earn enough money to live, the woman I met worked both shifts. She teaches for more than ten hours a day. The children don't get recess or lunch, so the only break she gets is the half hour that elapses while one group of students leaves and the other arrives. Those hours do not include time spent grading or planning. That either woman could mistake me for brave seems absurd.