Category: Life

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Culture Life

Holildays

France has exactly one more national holiday than we have in the US. This month is especially rife with them. Last week was Labor Day, or May Day, the one day of the year when only emergency services and such can force an employee to work. Some family owned businesses are open, but not much else, even restaurants. This week we had VE day, jour de victoire, which commemorates the end of fighting in Europe in World War Two. Today is Ascension Day. I don’t know why Ascension day, as France is stubbornly and thoroughly secular. It may have to do with the time the French state became secular, even taking over ownership of church properties. As compensation, perhaps, we continue to celebrate a number of Christian holidays, and not just Christmas. In a couple of weeks we will have Whit Monday off. I know nothing of Whit Sunday or Whit Monday, but it is a holiday.

One holiday that is very similar to one of our American ones is the Fète National, or National Holiday, which I’ve mostly heard referred to as “Bastille Day.” Oddly, it does not celebrate the storming of the Bastille on 14 July, but in fact the huge party held one year later on the Champs du Mars. The idea is to repeat that happy celebration every year on the anniversary of the first grand party. It is very similar to our Independence Day celebrations, with fireworks, parties, cookouts, and general yee-haw type celebrations. We hope to be in Paris some year for the occasion. (Not this year. Olympics? Merci, mais non!

Other holidays include Noel, Toussaint (All Saint’s Day), Armistice (November 11th), Saint Etienne (St. Stephen’s Day), Assomption, Assumption Day, Nouvel An (New Year’s Day), and in what was once known as Alsace-Lorraine, Good Friday, Easter Monday, and what our British friends would call Boxing Day. (Only there, not nationwide.) If you’re counting, that’s twelve national holidays, plus a few left overs that some areas insisted upon when they became French (again.) There are eleven national holidays in the US. (Don’t forget Juneteenth, folks.)

Except for Labor Day, you’ll find things open on most holidays, though not everything, and some things are on a reduced schedule. Some supermarkets close completely, most of the ones around here open for at least a few hours. I bought some groceries just today, in fact. Most of these holidays don’t involve any particular observances (a few do, of course) but people do a thing called faire le pont, which literally means “make the bridge.” For instance, this week Wednesday and Thursday are holidays. You have thirty days of paid leave per year, so why not take Friday, too, and then you’ll have a five-day weekend? Heck, we took a five-night vacation to Italy once. You can have quite some fine family time in Five Days, huh? A possible drawback is that, outside of Whit Monday, holidays are scheduled by the date, not the day of the week. If November 11th falls on a Sunday, there is no day off, and if you don’t like it, tough. Then, there are weeks like this one where, honestly, even places that are open are short staffed. Like I said, there are differences between French and American national holidays.

So, for all you American readers, have a good Memorial Day weekend, and remember the purpose of the holiday. (You can go ahead and cook out, but pay some respect while you’re at it.) And, while I’m at it, have a good Junteenth (why not?) and for heaven’s sake, Happy Fourth of July! (Bastille day, the fète national, is commonly known as quatorze julliet, or July Fourteenth!) That one is, as I wrote above, pretty similar to one of ours.

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Culture Food France info Life

Home Again

This was our house the first time we looked at it. It actually looks the same as it did in the picture on the outside, except for our old Kia parked in front of it.

Kind of repeating a topic this time, but as this blog is intended to let whomever is interested in it to know about the experience of moving to France, it’s probably just the thing to do. I spent three months here (in this house) in the spring of 2022, and I moved here permanently in May of 2023. So I have actually lived in France for thirteen months now, and I do have some impressions.

First, it no longer seems at all odd. In fact, the way things happen here seems normal, and I’m not sure but that I’d need to do some adjusting if I were to move back to the US. Not that the US is bad, but it’s different. In France I am in the process of applying for a residence permit, which of course I’ll never need in the US. You ain’t seen bureaucracy until you’ve seen French bureaucracy! That said, they have a facility in the nearest sizeable town for the sole purpose of helping people find a way through the bureaucratic maze, and they were very nice, and very helpful, and I felt better when I left than I did when I went in. That, believe it or not, seems like a normal thing.

And the food really is better. Not just restaurant food, but food you make yourself. Europe doesn’t approve many additives in food, so the beef never had hormone treatments, nor antibiotics unless it was sick, and there is a lot less added sugar in, well, virtually everything, although sugary treats are quite easy to obtain, and not just weird Frenchie stuff, but Kit Kat bars, Snickers, Gummy Things, Nestles (naturally, as it’s a Swiss company,) plus pies and cakes and other dessert items. Even, occasionally, doughnuts that would sell in the US. Not all the time, but sometimes. But outside of the dessert aisles, the food is nutritious, and meats, in particular, taste better, and if you’re into veggies only (can be tougher in France) the legumes (vegetables) are extremely high in quality.

Streets and roads are not as wide as I was used to in Nevada. In fact, some country roads are just about wide enough for one car, and it’s not unusual for someone to have to pull into a side lane or entrance to a field to pass another vehicle. This is normal. Also, speeds are generally lower, although the Autoroutes (mostly toll roads) are beautifully maintained and have a speed limit of just above 80 mph. Every so often they catch somebody going 120 mph or so, but as enforcement is strict, that’s rare.

And I can speak some French. In my learning curve, I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can see how much I don’t know. This is discouraging, but also encouraging. Sometimes I even understand what someone is saying to me, and I’ve had a few conversations that, I think, actually worked. So there’s that.

I hear my supper calling, so I’m signing off. Be sure to tune in for the next thrilling installment!

Categories
Culture France Life

Frenchified?

Inside Notre Dame de Paris, before the fire

Last weekend I went out walking with my dogs and found myself having an attack of Frankish resentment at an impolite encounter. The hunters were out (la chasse), in which some people stand by a road with shotguns while facing the woods, while others take their dogs, circle around to the other side of the woods, and attempt to chase out something for the folks by the road to shoot. The bush beaters have shotguns, too, so maybe the folks by the road are just backup. Anyway, as I’ve written a few times, in France, it is obligatoire to say bonjour to anyone you meet well enough to lock eyes with. Not saying bonjour is the height of bad manners. You might get away with no s’il vous plaît, no merci, or even no au revoir, but bonjour is not negotiable. One says that, or apologizes if one starts a conversation without doing so.

Anyway, on Sunday the mutts and I passed by a number of people standing along the road holding shotguns. I’m cool with guns, and none of these people looked like they were obsessed with their guns, which are, of course, a tool to use of you happen to want to kill your prey animals yourself. I’ve eaten some of the wild boar from around here, and it is probably worth shooting. It’s very good. Most of the people and I exchanged bonjours, although one man we so intent on the tree line that I don’t think he even knew we were passing. But there was one small group, a man and a woman, who I looked at, nodded at, and said bounour to each of, who just stared at me as I walked past. Now, I’ll admit, maybe they were strangers to France. Maybe from someplace like Denmark where, I’m told, saying hello before getting down to business is considered impolite. I admit, maybe they had their reasons, but, you know, I found their failure to say hello made me angry. I mean, how dare they? One always says hello, boor!

I wasn’t that angry. I didn’t say anything to them about it (they should know better anyway, right?) But I was surprised to find out that they sort of pissed me off by not responding. I’ve lived here a total of just about a year, counting three months in 2022, and apparently that’s enough to start soaking up local cultural norms. Who knows what’s next? You never know, I might start eating pizza and beer and cheeseburgers like I see a lot of French people doing. And there’s just no telling where that might lead! Or, seriously, it is interesting that I would react that way. You don’t formally greet everybody you happen to meet the eyes of in the US, do you? I didn’t, although I did always at least nod and maybe make some sort of sound.

I guess I’m just moving along the continuum toward being a judgmental twit, huh? Well, life’s a journey!

Categories
France Life

Cool!

This was a restaurant in western Germany in 2016. Maybe it’s still there?

The Canicule has lifted!

And that’s my first peculiarity about France. A heatwave is called a canicule. But, before you give up on that, we (sort of) use the same term in the US. It is the 2000-years later version of caniculare, which is Classicical Latin for “Puppy Days.” Or, I guess, Dog Days. The Romans, most likely of Greek origin themselves according to many sources, took from the Greeks the idea that the reappearance of the Dog Star, Sirius, was responsible for the miserable hot weather common from mid-July through August. In Gaul, it just got to mean any hot miserable weather, and I’m glad it’s over.

Now, for more along the lines of what I had in mind when conceiving this post. France has what they call Hypermarchés. That is, a huge supermarket within a store that sometimes can make a Wal-Mart Superstore look tiny. In those, and other, smaller, supermarkets, when you shop, you will always (always!) have to work your way around employees stocking shelves, or worse, hauling warehouse trucks around piled high with stuff they need to shelve, or empty because they’re going back for more. These stores tend to open at 8 or 9 in the morning, so, naturally, you’d expect that a crew would be coming in at, say, 5 or 6 in the morning to get the place stocked and ready, so that shoppers can find what they’re looking for without fighting employees. Hah! You see, in France, the Customer is Not Always Right! In fact, many times, The Customer is Just In Your Way! Seriously, and this is why you must say bonjour when entering a store, or, in the case of the larger more impersonal ones, to anyone you need to interact with, and certainly to the person who checks you out.

While I’m on stores, you will almost never get anything bagged up for you. If you want it in a bag, you bag it yourself. I’m okay with this, as one can simply put everything back in the cart and wheel it all out to your car, but it can be off-putting at first. If you don’t have any reusable bags, they sell them. I like them. I took one with me to Las Vegas for a year and used it every time I went to the supermarket. I even got a few cents credit for every one of their bags that I didn’t use. The reusable bags can be tough as heck, too, made of jute or hemp, and they last for years. Unless somebody steals one, of course, which is why I now bag as I load the car.

Pharmacies! If it is by any conception some sort of drug, you must buy it at the pharmacy. That goes for Aspirin, Aleve, laxatives, athlete’s foot treatment, and of course prescribed drugs. There are “parapharmacies” that sell vitamins, nutritional supplements, plasters (band-aids) and other non-drug items that you’d normally expect from a supermarket, but if you have a headache, you must go to the pharmacie. They display lit green crosses, so they’re easy to find, and they are everywhere, but to have to go to a pharmacy (spelling deliberate) for ibuprofen? Weird.

Food is food, and in a lot of cases you can buy the same things in France as you can in the US. Except some tasty stuff like good hot sauce, packages of sliced bacon, Heinz Baked Beans (sorry, Who), and pepperoni. In fact, French cooking, while deservedly famous for being well prepared, is remarkably bland for someone used to Southwestern cuisine. If you like some heat in your eggs, bring some sauce with you. I like Cholula.

Primature à droite, that is priority to the right. Many moons ago this was the case in Ohio where I learned to drive, but I doubt that there any intersections left there where it applies. (There could be.) That is, in an unmarked intersection, that is, one with no signage, the vehicle approaching from the right has the right-of-way. This is true even if the intersection is a T-shape. There is a sign in France used to warn you if you’re approaching one. It’s a white triangle, point up, outlined in red (like an inverted Yield sign) with a black X on it. If you’re driving here and see one, be careful, slow down, be ready to stop. Unless you’re on a real road and can see that nobody is coming, but officially do as I say. This is a great way to confuse someone from the UK, where, I’ll admit, there isn’t much call for priority to the right.

There’s more stuff, and I’ll try to list it in the future. There’s more stuff about the US that French people (and Brits*) find strange, too. I sort of make these things up during the preceding week, so I can’t promise exactly when, but keep coming back and you’ll see them in all good time.

* about 5.6 percent of the population of our Commune are from the UK, so I get exposed to British customs and language as a sort of side bonus.

Categories
Culture France Life

America the Odd

US as US Flag Image from Wikipedia

There are a few things that the last few months of living in Europe have made me feel about the US of A. Not that anything is bad, mind you. Different strokes for different folks and all that. But some things that seem normal in America seem odd to someone living abroad. How odd some things must seem to someone who has never been to, or lived in, The United States!

  • American Corporations: All incorporated enterprises exist to make money. That’s not unique to the US. What is unique is the apparent lack of any meaningful controls on corporate behavior. In contrast, what you hear referred to as “the nanny state” in the US seems like normal government regulation in Europe. At the same time, some government interference seen as normal in the US is lacking in France. Different people fear different aspects of modern life, obviously.
  • A Sense of the Primacy of Efficiency: In France, and in much of Europe (not the UK, hoo boy no!) efficiency sometimes takes a back seat to enjoying life. The way it’s put in France is that you “work to live,” whereas in America many people seem to “live to work.” There’s a big difference if you think about it. You think France has a problem due to inefficiency? The French economy is more efficient that the German economy, true story. Most productive in Europe, in fact. Maybe happy people work better? (Everyone gets 30 days of paid vacation per year. If they’re an employee, that is. People typically take August off. If it were me, I’d head for a vacation in Scandinavia, or up in one of the French mountain ranges. Who needs the heat, huh?)
  • Lines at the grocery store. They have them. There is self-checkout too, but it’s generally limited to smaller loads, such as you’d find in the handbasket, not a big old cart. But the lines move pretty quickly and are not nearly so irritating as similar lines in the US. Why? Small talk, or the lack of same. French people don’t engage in a lot of small talk. The reason I prefer self-checkout in the US is that it takes forever for the clerk to check out someone if they’re having a conversation about Mac and Cheese, or the weather, or whatever. French people occasionally indulge in a little small talk, especially in small towns, but normally, the clerk just scans the groceries as quickly as possible, the customer stuffs the order into their own bag, or as I normally do, into a cart and then bag it as I load the car, the customer pays, and that’s it! Bonjour!, load load, payé, and the end. Next customer.
  • Being Polite: I’ve written of this before, but as I observed on my first visit to France in 1976, you get a lot better service when you’re polite. This is true in America, too (try it and see!) Say hello, please, thank-you, acknowledge the clerk as a person, and something like “have a nice day” at the end. I think this goes back to what I call rule number one of human interaction: the way you see the world treating you is the way you’re treating the world!

There are more things I’m sure. Next time I’ll talk about a few things that still seem odd to me after living in France for a total of six months (three of them in 2021.) Oh, yeah, it’ll be seven months by then, almost. Ciao!

Categories
France Life

Some French Weirdness

The Sun King Lives on in the Gates of Versailles (2019 photo)

I visited France a lot before I moved here. Probably about five months of total visitation over the years. We wanted to have access to Europe the way we can access the U.S. in the U.S., and European residence gives you that. My French visa will let me muck about in the entire EU plus several other countries that have signed the “Open Borders” treaty. Open Borders!?! Egads! Down, boy, that’s only between member states. You know, states, such as Alabama and Montana. States of the (European) union. To enter Europe, you must pass some border guards. It was pretty easy with a visa, but I sill had to present myself to them. Then I paid my 200 Euro “welcome to France” tax, and I’m allowed to live here. Poof!

I mention the visitations because I was familiar with a lot of French peculiarities before I moved in. But not all of them. #1, although I was warned repeatedly, is the bureaucracy. You maybe think California is difficult? Amateurs! Here is part of a form one must submit to customs in duplicate in order to import ones’ household goods:

Of course, it is in French. Sort of have to expect that. But the type is very small, and, of all things, green! And this one is simple. There is a seventeen-page form to fill out if you want to remodel your living room. (For the permit, which, again, involves tax assessment of course, same as in the U.S.) We bought a defunct fish and chips shop that is under our bedroom, and we’re converting it to living space. So far, we have the forms (not yet filled out) for altering the facade, which we got from the Mairie (Mayor’s Office.) The interior conversion will require another set down at the Prefecture (sort of a County Administration facility.) We’re probably going to hire a French company to do the work, and they’ll do the forms for us. Yay them!

But that’s not all, folks! You pack your own groceries in Europe (not just France.) They charge for bags — 20 centimes (cents) for a paper bag, up to 2 Euros for a sturdy burlap job. After paying 2 Euros for a shopping bag, I have a tendency to forget to take one in with me when I get groceries. This is a real pain, unless I have a small enough load to carry out without a bag, or I want to shell out an extra 20 cents for a paper bag. Of course, most stores are fine with you walking out the door with your groceries in the cart, as you probably have a coin on deposit in the handle of said cart. The only way to get that coin back is to return it to the cart corral. You plug it into the line, and your coin pops out. Only one store in the area doesn’t use that plan. But they still let you carry your groceries out in their cart, and I’ve never seen anyone fail to return the cart to the corral anyway. Conditioning, I guess.

I’m going to have to take driving school, as Nevada and France have no reciprocity. If I’d stayed in Ohio, I’d be golden. Oh, well. When that adventure starts, I’ll post about it. And other stuff, too. Just keep watching this space for whatever weirdness it occurs to me to report! 🙂

Categories
Life

My Life So Far

An inmate of the Butterfly Pavilion near Denver

When I was attending Bowling Green State University, I kept a sort of journal off and on for the entire time. In fact, for some years after. So far in my life, I’ve stopped doing that. Maybe for the same reason that on my first trip to Paris, I didn’t take a camera. I made a couple of drawings of some of the decor on Notre Dame, though. That butterfly picture is not trying to make a statement, by the way. I just like it. I choose pictures that sort of go with the theme of my post, but that’s as far as it goes.

This is not an in-depth, heart-soothing account of a life of someone who has seen the light. I don’t know if I ever have. I don’t know if I ever want to. I’ve heard that you see the light as you’re dying, and I’m in no hurry. Not that it matters when it’s time, but still. This post is actually about regrets.

It is true, and I’m not the only one to have written the following, that I don’t regret anything I honestly tried to do but failed at, but I do regret things I didn’t try, or didn’t give an honest effort to. Hey, I coulda been a contender, right? For what, I don’t know, but still, hey! If you read this blog, you have no doubt noticed in the past six months or so that most of my posts have been repostings from Odd Godfrey. I’ve been vicariously circumnavigating the planet with them for about six and a half years as of now. I actually met them for the first time at their bon voyage party in San Diego, quite a few moons ago, but I’ve also visited with them every time they’ve been back in Vegas for a short visit. Their boat, named Sonrisa, says “Las Vegas, Nevada” under her name. (They use “her” so don’t talk to me about that issue.) Why this long bit about them? Because, when I was nineteen, I had a chance to try out for a summer job at Cedar Point, Ohio (headquarters of Cedar Fair, the amusement park company.) They had, and probably still do, musical acts preceding some of their shows, such as the first IMAX theater I ever saw.* I chose instead to spend my summer counting parts in an IBM warehouse in Boca Raton, Florida. I had a good summer, but I always wonder what would have happened to my life if I’d gotten a job at Cedar Point as a musician. I love making music, always have. I genuinely regret not giving it a try. Yeah, might’ve flopped, might’ve died by choking on a ham sandwich, maybe lots of stuff, but I should have tried it.

I also wanted to be a writer. My first wife, who to be honest would have been financing the effort, said no way, so I gave up on the idea. Could I have done that anyway, along with a series of jobs for which I was temperamentally unsuited? Maybe. Or at least at the same time as, but I chose to be conventional. Trust me, if you have any creative urges, give up on the idea of being conventional; it’s not worth it, and besides, you don’t really want to be, do you? Well, I write now, but so far nobody’s paying me for what I turn out. That will change, and luckily, my multiple attempts at a normal career (some of which were actually okay) have left me with some pension. Not a huge one, but enough to finance living in France, which I’ll be doing (I don’t say no to adventures anymore.) So, I’m a writer. Also, I have a YouTube channel for my music (nothing uploaded yet) so I’ll be doing a musician bit even though I’m, as my son points out, older than dirt. **

Here I am at 73 years old, starting a new life. Well, why not? I stretch and exercise regularly, so I don’t really suffer a lot of aches and pains. I do crosswords and play other mind games to keep sharp. And, though I’m slow, I still can run, and I’m still about as strong as I ever was. Yeah, that strong. Hulk has nothing to fear from me! Next post I’ll talk about why France, and what I’m planning to do next. (I hope to have some music uploaded shortly.)

Later!

*The first film was about The Grand Canyon, and quite impressive, if devoid of any plot.

**Things were just so nice and clean before dirt!

Categories
France Life

Biased Observations From France Parte Deux

You may know who painted this, even. It’s in le Musee d’Orsay, if you want to go see it better.

As promised a few days ago, here is a post about things France could improve on. My cold is slowly easing up. I hope I can narrate by the weekend. We’ll see.

So France does some things better than the United States does them. My 157 mph average speed trip from Paris to Poitiers this morning was one of those things. But, France also needs improvement in a few areas. (Not manners. See my last post for details.)

One thing that bugs me is that you need to go to a pharmacie even if all you want is some aspirin. If it’s actual medication, only a pharmacie can sell it. (Pharmacie is French for Pharmacy.) I wanted some athlete’s foot treatment, get it in any grocery for cheap, right? Nope, not at all! Had to go to a pharmacy, ask for it at the counter (they do have some things out where you can pick them up and go pay) and pay about three times as much, on a per volume basis, for some creme to treat athlete’s foot. Same with antihistamine, decongestant, cough syrup, eye drops, and of course those obscure medical brands of toothpaste and stuff. I find it outrageous, and expensive. Get a clue, France!

Another thing is showing up when you say you will. Mostly people do, but tradesmen, well, sometimes they’re not maybe all that prompt. I arranged for an electrician to replace a circuit in the kitchen on April 14th. Hasn’t shown up yet. At least the master electrician who diagnosed the problem was timely. Been waiting at least six weeks to have a door put between two upstairs rooms. Probably keep waiting for a while yet. At one parking garage next to the station in Poitiers, the elevator has been out of service for at least a whole month. Why? If you can’t fix it, make the doors look like janitor’s closets or something, right? Or just fix it. Seriously, now, France, you can’t just let things go to Hell like that. People will talk!

Pop music in France tends to run to poorly done house music. Partially this is because from 7am to 7pm stations are required to play a large percentage of artists from France only. The other half of the day you hear a lot of American rock and roll hits, which is okay but hardly original. Come on, France, boom-bah-boom, house music, boom-bah-boom, is okay for a while, boom-bah-boom, but all effing day? boom-bah boom!

Overall, I like France a great deal. People are friendly and eager to help, the food is mostly decent (though it could use a bit more heat) and health care is affordable. And I like the United States, even though we really should work on our transportation priorities a bit harder. The two countries are very similar in general zeitgeist and political inclinations. Both look to the same philosophies for their basic ideals. And, in spite of some tense times over the centuries, France and the US have never once gone to war with each other. Not many countries can say that about the US, can they?

I could rant on for both sides of the “who does it better” debate, but why bother. France is slower? Life is easier. The US makes the coolest cars. (True dat.) So, what the heck? Everyone should visit a country where the natives don’t speak their native language at least once. Any country on the European continent will do (except Switzerland,) and, if you’re desperate, heck, try the United Kingdom. Many people there, I’m convinced, don’t actually speak English. 🙂

Categories
France Life

Biased Observations From France

Truth: I didn’t take this one. But it is in the Public Domain.

You see what I did there, right? Instead of Las Vegas, I substituted France. Clever, huh?

I have been posting a series of videos on YouTube from France. I have another one just waiting to be narrated. That means writing up a narration with timing while watching the silent video, and then narrating it several times until it sounds good enough to record, then recording it. No problem, if one doesn’t have laryngitis. Which I do. So, I shall now probably disappoint some followers by posting this instead. Desolé, guys. But, I do want to share some impressions of the country I’ve spent the past two months in.

First, I’m not comparing to say one country is better than another. I have homes in both, I like both, but they are not exactly the same. Mostly they are the same, but not exactly. Here are a few things France does better (you might be surprised.)

First, supermarket carts. They wind up all over Vegas because people steal them to hold their worldly goods, or to joyride, or whatever. And those that don’t get stolen end up with flat wheels, or wobbly wheels, or worse, and they are still in use. Some stores have lines beyond which their carts will lock a wheel, but that doesn’t seem to stop people. It’s a problem. In France you will find all of the carts chained together end to end (in several rows) underneath some sort of weather shelter. You take a coin (50 centimes, 1 euro, or 2 euros) or a token made for the purpose in some cases, slide it into a slot, which pushes the locking device out of the handle of the cart. (They call them chariots. Cute, huh.) When you’re done, you the empty cart back to the shelter and use the locking device to push your coin or token out, and at no net cost to yourself, you get a cart that is never stolen, and rarely damaged in any way. This is so simple that it’s genius.

Second, French toilets are everything that Italian toilets are not. That is, they actually do what those commercials showing the guy dumping dog food into the toilet claim to do: you can flush almost anything. But, dark clouds are on the toilet horizon. Low-flow toilets in France, of which there aren’t many thankfully, plug into the electric source for the location, and when you flush they fill with water for a while (there is always some in there) until they sort of flush. A lot like an Italian toilet flushes. (If you’ve never used an Italian toilet, you wouldn’t believe me if I described how well they work. It’s not well at all.) Remember how much the first low-flow toilets in the US sucked? These are worse! But I have seen exactly one B&B with those toilets, and every single other one I’ve seen is a powerhouse of stuff removal. Yay, France on this one.

Third, something I’ve liked for years is that in France, manners are not optional. In America you walk into a store and you assume that the people there are obliged to serve your every whim. In France, not so much. The customer is sometimes a boorish nuisance, in fact. This is also true in the US, but you’re obliged to ignore that and be nice to them anyway. Frankly, that system sucks, and I’m glad to be somewhere that it doesn’t hold sway. What do I mean? First, and this is not an option in any sense of the word, you always say Hello! In French that’s bonjour, and it’s okay if you say it the way it looks, which is wrong, you’ll get full credit for the attempt. As I said, this is not an option. You can NOT overuse that word. The idea is that you are invading the store clerk’s space, and as they are a person deserving of respect, you must give it to them. If you’ve visited France and thought everyone was impolite, you didn’t say bonjour enough. Simple as that. Trust me on this one.

Almost as important as hello are please, thank-you, and good-bye. In French these are S’il vous plait (Mexican speakers, in Europe you always use the formal you, in France and in Spain too), merci, and au revoir. That please phrase sounds like See Voo Play, and you should be saying please in America, too. Merci sounds like mare-see. You can add a beaucouup (bow-coo) if you really mean it. And au revoir sounds like O re vware, with a flat a. Au revoir means literally “Until we see each other again.” You say that to someone that you’re about as likely to meet again as you are Julius Caesar, because it is respectful. The English equivalent is “see you later” or “Until the next time.” All of this goes back to the French Revolution (the first one.)

Much like others since, those revolutionaries were eager to reform everything. They came up with different names for days of the week, different months, and tried to come up with some way for all the “egals” (equals) to address each other. All that failed. As it happened, as time went by, and there were more revolutions and finally a third republic (ended by WWII) it was decided by common consent, apparently, that everybody shall be addressed as nobility. Therefore you always say bonjour madame or monsieur. Madame meaning literally “My Lady” and Monsieur meaning literally “My Lord.” It is deep in the French psyche that everyone gets that sort of respect, and I like that.

Okay, that’s some stuff I think France does better. Next post I’ll write about things I think France could learn a few things about. Au revoir!

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I Have A Good Excuse

I arrived in France on May 12th. My luggage got to France the 14th. The company responsible for delivering it gave it to Poste Français. I wasn’t home when they tried to deliver it, so they took it back to the main post office in Civray, 8km away. They did not notify me. After almost getting nasty about things, the delivery company told me what had happened. Yesterday I went up to Civray and retrieved my luggage. Everything was there. I shall post again! Carry on!