“How did you get a name like that?” I asked the main man at the tennis hut, reaching to pour myself a cool drink of water on a morning when the temperature was already 30 degrees.
“Well, ‘Garros’ wasn’t my decision – something to do with my parents” he smiled – a gorgeously tanned face surrounding the kind of dazzling white teeth my dentist would be impressed by.
“Let’s have a photo” I said, commandeering this fine garçon and a fellow pupil prior to our morning lesson.
“Ah, yes, it always start with a photograph” he said, eyes twinkling.
Conversations with Strangers 