I just met a man. He sets up shop in Gammeltorv, the square just down the street, and sells jewelry and hats. I hadn't planned on chatting - I just wanted to buy an earring. As I wandered up to his stand, he said "Hello, if you need help with something, tell me, I'll help you. Are you French?" "No, I'm Canadian." (I know this is a lie, but sometimes I lie about being from Canada. Occassionally, especially in Chile, it elicits a completely different reaction than being from the U.S. This man didn't care - Canadian and American were equal in his book.) "Canadian, eh? You work at the school here?" "Well, I go to the school..." "Yes, yes - that's what I mean, you are working by studying at the school." "Oh, yeah. Where
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