I left home on May 9th 2023, and arrived home on May 10th, 2023. I left Paradise Nevada, and arrived in Lizant, Vienne. Different climate, different culture, and I’m lucky my French finally caught hold of my brain, because that’s what they speak around these parts. Faithful readers, both of you (and I’m not kidding) noticed that I’ve been pretty lazy with this blog. I may be about to change that. I’m thinking of making this into a blog about moving to France at 73 years old, the mistakes I’ve made, the good decisions, too. I also may re-activate (start posting to again) my YouTube channel called “A Grumpy American Moves to France.” Along the same thematic lines. You can comment to let me know what you think of those ideas if you want. If you’ve never commented before I have to approve your comments, but once I approve one, you’re free to comment whenever you wish.
That’s this post. All news, not so entertaining. But useful, right? Until next time, my friends!
Took this meself, I did. (You do know what this is, right?)
Last week I told you where I am. Now here is what I’ve been up to. I mean, Blog is short for weB LOG, after all, so here’s a log entry for ya.
I spent three months (almost) in our house in Lizant, France last Spring. Pretty much all Spring, although I was able to enjoy (?) the first of this year’s now famous heat waves. The house retains heat (or cool) pretty well, so with fans, it was okay. Not always great, but okay, so long as I opened all the windows at night and closed them by nine or ten in the morning. There is more I’d like to get done to the place before we move in, from simply painting to overseeing some major remodeling of an old Fish & Chips shop, and a lot of stuff in between. But that will have to wait until the family that has rented it, who are shopping for a house of their own, find and close the deal on said house of their own. It takes about four months to buy a house in France and I don’t think that they have an offer in yet.
This is complicated by the fact that ma bonne mere, mother-in-law, has announced her intention to move back to Phoenix to live with a different daughter this fall. Since her living in our house in Henderson is the reason we couldn’t just up and move to France, well, now we can just up and move to France. Once our house is available, that is. The upside is that they are adding money to our French bank account on a monthly basis. It’s hard to be too upset about that, as our remodeling will probably cost, um rough estimate: a lot!
While I was in France I demonstrated the general rule that breaking any sort of writers’ block may be best accomplished by doing something completely different. I think living in a foreign country (less foreign seeming than it used to be) qualifies. I started a new project, unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I like it. I feel like I must write it, and, amazingly, I don’t really care what the world may think of it. It’s all authentic, all real, and, by cracky, a fantasy. So, I’ve been cranking out a chapter a day (most days) since early June. I’m sure it sucks bigly, which is why I’m looking forward to revising and revising, which probably will start soon. You may see this one for sale yet, folks. As I said, I like it.
And, after years, I’m finally able to do regular runs again. Last week a total of 2.9 blistering miles, with a pace as fast as 12:44. The one-legged man with a bad ankle is having trouble keeping up! And I read, and I watch TV (mostly streamed,) and, well, heck, this is getting long. I’ll post again, maybe even with something funny. ‘Cause I am doing more than I’ve revealed so far. Have a great week, people! Au revoir!
Joan of Arc was polite to the French, but not the English. See what that gets you?
Apparently I never published the reasons why the French insist on politeness here. So, here they are.
France, like another country with which I am quite familiar, ditched a monarchy. It took the USA seven years. It took France a century. To be fair, the monarch lived in France, but across an ocean from the United States. Now that brought up a problem of personal address. With an established nobility (also still living in country) there were established ways to greet nobles. You wouldn’t just go up to a Compte (Count), slap him on the back and ask, “How’s it hangin’, old buddy?” And then the lower classes were designed and created by God (according to the nobility) for the nobility to ignore and walk all over. Suddenly, though, Lafayette, with some advice from Thomas Jefferson (told you that these two countries had similar beginnings) went to work on a “Delcaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen.” That document is a portion of the constitution of the Fifth Republic of France. It is not unlike the Bill of Rights, so I won’t go into what it grants, but I will point out that, with that document joining the official government papers, you couldn’t just ignore the peasantry any more. But, then how to address a former peasant?
The revolutionaries, much like the later Bolsheviks in Russia, invented all sorts of ridiculous answers to that question. Heck, “comrade” might even have been one of them, but those ideas died after the Reign of Terror. Along with thousands of humans, of course. But, probably during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, the following ideas were adopted.
To say hello, say bonjour.Bonjour is a compound word, a portmanteau it’s called, combining bon which is “good” and jour which is “day.” Because, when meeting a noble, you want to wish them a good day, of course.*
Consider the politics. Those nobles didn’t want to give up being addressed respectfully, and who could blame them? But if everyone is addressed as nobility, they won’t lose, and the peasantry gains. How much do the peasants gain? Well, consider that madame is made from the words ma, or feminine “my” and dame, or lady. When you call the store clerk madame you are calling her “My Lady.” Same with monsieur. Mon is the masculine “my” and sieur is an old way to say “lord” so you’re calling the guy fixing your car, or lunch or whatever, “My Lord.” That’s a big step up from invisibility, I’d say.
Of course, one also uses please and thank-you when addressing a noble, so now Si’l vous plait or S’il te plait are now used politely for everyone. Thank you is the relatively well-known, merci! And then, not to insult your noble, you end with something like “Thank you, see you next time!” Right? Well, Au revoir translates into “Until We See Each Other Again.” Et voila! There were tender alliances to be tended to in the government, the nobility would not accept demotion, but they did accept de jure promotion for everyone else. In other words, in France, everyone is nobility. Noble titles are strictly honorary, and that’s been true for a long time, but the fact remains that everyone in the country (including tourists) is to be treated like nobility. Well, in greeting and transacting business anyway, if not in privilege. Add that to the fact that French restaurant dining is a more relaxed, drawn-out affair, during which you must ask for the check (addition) when you’re ready to pay, Now, if you haven’t used all the proper greetings, etc, and you’re an impatient American diner, you think that the French are impolite, when in fact the opposite is true.
And that’s the truth!
* The way to wish someone a good day is now “bonne journée”. A journée was once a day trip, now it’s a day.
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.
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. 🙂
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!
Here is a link to the first video posted on my new YouTube channel. It’s intended for those who followed Tami and myself on our trip last fall, wherein we found a house to buy. The purchase is scheduled to complete on the 29th of March, 2022, and I’ll be in our new house myself on April 12th. If you’re one of those people, you can follow along simply by subscribing to that channel. More information will be available there as it emerges.
