No, not in the old Fish & Chips shop. We hope to convert that to living space anyway. In the house, which is behind the other three doors you see on the building. The bit that sticks out at the far end is a sort of sunroom, with an outdoor patio on the roof. We have three toilets, two showers, one bathtub, a big back yard, and lots of flowers. Kind of nice, actually. At first it wasn’t so much, but it’s grown on me, kind of like, oh, I dunno, It gets into the blood, this French living.
The reason I’m writing is to summarize a bit my impressions of France as a place, as opposed to the idealized place many seem to love or hate.
Driving. In a rural area, such as 86400 Lizant, you need to drive quite a bit. No more than living in Las Vegas, though. I can be at a supermarket in eight minutes, which is better than is the case in many suburbs, and the roads are actually roads, not suburban nightmares of eight lanes or more. And, people know how to use roundabouts! The French have a reputation as being bad drivers, which is maybe earned, because in most things, they drive just like Americans. Yes, we’re all bad at it, and we all think we’re the best at it. Hah! Anyhow, they are better at yielding to pedestrians, bicycles and others, and better at maneuvering in tight spaces. Some of the spaces are pretty darned tight, so that’s not surprising. But in basic skill level, from staying in their lane to using signals, it’s just about the same sad story.
Food. French food is famous for being wonderful. Prior to the second world war, a “good” American restaurant would feature French recipes. Chef Boiardi (Boy-Ar-Dee) started changing all that, and now of course a good restaurant might serve almost any cuisine. Thing is, traditional French food really is good, but, as a long time Southwesterner, I think it needs some heat. I’ve had Mexican here that was bland. Seriously. But I’ve also had some excellent food, and I enjoy finding a place that serves a meal over time, as is traditional, so that each course has a chance to settle a bit, and one can have a conversation. The French say, by the way, that Americans are too loud in restaurants, and sometimes they’re right. But, a month ago I had dinner in a very nice restaurant in Paris, where two tables of French people took turns out-shouting each other. Yeah, those darned Americans, huh?
Attitudes. In France, nothing gets done yesterday. That’s not to say that the fire department will take its sweet time or anything. An emergency (urgence) is another matter entirely. But it can take a while to get a tradesman to show up at your place, and if they say “nine,” you’d do well to think “maybe ten.” That’s okay if you’re expecting it. It also means that you don’t have to press to be first in line all the time. You can take time to smell the fleur-des-lis, if you want to. There is something to be said for the idea that efficiency is not an end in and of itself. Still, if you want the American style of efficiency, you’ll be out of luck. Try not to let it make you suffer.
Manners. Everyone in France is polite. In most places, if you want someone to deal with you, even a store clerk, you’d better say hello. Or better yet, bonjour. That isn’t an optional thing in France. Also, you say please, thank you, and “until we meet again,” which is what au revoir means. You say that to some airport clerk you’re unlikely to see again if you live to be 150, but you must say it, because it’s polite. I may have posted before about the reasons for these necessities, but if not (I’ll check), I’ll do it next time. People who say that the French are impolite and unfriendly have not been polite in the first place. If you visit, say bonjour to everyone. Say it to a stray dog on the street. Say it to store clerks, vagabonds, gendarmes, old ladies, little kids, everyone. You cannot say it too often. Then remember please, thank you, and au revoir. If you know please and thank you in French, that’s bonus territory.
Overall. France is a place a lot like a lot of places. It’s a very diverse country, where there are entirely too many dialects of French spoken to make it easy on a learner. But that’s okay. They appreciate my French, even if I (probably) have a nasty accent. The people are friendly and helpful, unfailingly polite (except for one bitch lady neighbor to a b&b we stayed in North of Paris) and generally speaking the weather is nice, certainly much cooler than Vegas, where I’m heading to shortly. I’m looking forward to coming back to keep spiffing up the house, eating the pizza from the local bar, and drinking cheap good wine. One could do worse.
