A few hours after arriving in Paris, reenergized by the espresso I had upon my arrival, my husband and I set out on our walk, stumbling across the cobblestone streets of the Left Bank in search of the perfect café. Then, it started to pour ferociously.

Since we had no umbrella, we ran to a little café only meters away, joining a gathering of locals who were busy celebrating another workweek ending. Cigarette smoke billowed around them as they laughed and chatted. The waiter must have detected our Canadian French accent as we were seated away from the others, under a covered terrace next to a couple in their late sixties. I guessed they were Americans from the south with their wide smiles and matching jean jackets. In fact, within seconds they told us that they lived in Houston, Texas.

We replied politely to the usual meet and greet questions, and thankfully, glasses filled with champagne arrived soon after alongside an enormous platter of mind-blowing cheese. I was hoping for a romantic start to our holiday, but our friendly Texans had more important matters to discuss.

Noting the many empties on their tiny table, they had obviously been drinking for a while. The woman, a sales and marketing manager, was a red head with a stylish short haircut, while her husband, a retiree from Kodak, seemed sweet, almost boyish with a full head of hair. They told us of their travels over the last many years. In fact, they had been renting a house in the south of France for well over a decade but still did not know a word of French.

I’m not sure at what point the conversation went sour but somehow our discourse went from a reciprocal sharing of ideas to a one-sided proclamation that outlined a list of their grievances about others. Listening to the hatred that left their lips was shocking. They talked vehemently about immigrants in Europe who were ruining the EU and “raping” all the women. They thought that those who wore burqas were offensive (the gentleman told me they looked spooky and were not to be trusted}, and they also disliked folks who immigrated to America and who “just wouldn’t assimilate.” I tried to stay calm imagining what many of the CNN journalists must have felt like post election, and searched for an opening in the conversation to instill my voice of reason.

“Here’s your chance,” I said to myself. “Ask logical questions, don’t seem hostile.” Surely they will rethink what they are saying and change their minds.

Then the lady spewed the mother lode and started unleashing her venom- she had some bad business dealings with people of Indian descent, which prompted her hatred for all of the “Indians and Pakistanis” who “invaded” her home state, in Texas.

I looked deep into her brown eyes that kept darting in different directions, and said, “ You mean to tell me, that you’re willing to bash an entire group of people because you had a few difficult experiences?” And she answered with conviction, “ absolutely ”.

I shook in my damp shoes, feeling dizzy from the champagne and the unimaginable words leaving her mouth. When she and her husband started to talk about Trump, I could not take it anymore, and turned away to chat with a German couple next to us who clearly saw my exasperation and fear, but were spared the rants of hatred and intolerance. I wish I could say that I’m making this up- but it became all too clear, that sadly, this was no fake news.

You may be wondering what my husband was doing at this time while I felt my heart lurching out from my body- he actually seemed a bit frozen, and it looked like he was observing them as if they were part of a lab experiment gone awry.

I squeezed the German stranger’s (Valerie) arm, and almost in tears, stammered, “ these people are racists.“ I think I needed someone to bear witness to the horrific words spoken to me. “Perhaps I should have told them I was Jewish,” I said softly to Val and her partner.  “ You should have,” she said. “This kind of behavior should not be tolerated, and we will back you up.” At this point, I was both tipsy and exasperated, so I opted out of further confrontation.

I couldn’t help but think that I was somehow playing the lead in a Meta- drama. Here, I was, a Canadian in Paris, sharing my fury with some left-leaning Germans, who knew very well the catastrophic impact of xenophobia in society, past and present.

Thankfully, throughout most of my fifty odd years, I’ve never really had to deal with such overt racism. In fact, here, in Canada, we rejoice in our differences- that’s really what defines us.

My Texan/Paris interlude made me think real hard about Canada and the United States. How could two democratic societies be so different? But I think we are, and I’m not exactly sure why. The fact that Trump became President is mind-boggling but it happened, and we all know that he is not alone in his beliefs and outlook.

I remember backpacking some thirty years ago in Europe with my best friend, and we were sure to point to the Canadian flag stitched onto our bags every time someone asked us if we were Americans.

I was proud to be Canadian then, and now, even prouder.

With a daughter living in Boston, and close friends also residing in the U.S., I can only hope for the best but I know that’s not good enough.

Back in the 1930’s in pre-Nazi Germany, when everyday Germans listened to their neighbours, friends or relatives who supported Hitler’s agenda, many remained silent. They were not actively helping the Nazi regime, but their silence helped give rise to a festering sinister widespread plot.

Today, right now, we all must stand up against those who utter words of hatred for others, even if it feels uncomfortable and impolite to do so. We need to recognize that what’s happening across America, and elsewhere, in terms of a sweeping swing to the right, is significant. Silence is not an option anymore.