To the gals next door,
Listen- I've been drunk a time or two in my life- so you can't say I "just don't get it." I understand that inebriation can spawn the desire to dance, to sing, to hide Camembert cheese under a friends notebook (it happened, I was the victim) . What I cannot understand is it spawning the desire to SCREAM AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS. Repeatedly? Out the window? Before falling into piles of giggles. I've witnessed the slumber parties of my 10 year old sister, and I can tell you that her and her friends conduct themselves with more maturity than you do. You can't use the excuse of this being a one-time occurance either. Perhaps you don't realize it, but this is what you do every time you have one of your little dorm-parties. I'm usually out on Friday and Saturday nights, but whenever I'm in- it's probably because I want to sleep or study. Thank you for making that impossible.
But what now? Dead silence? I guess the hate vibes have sealed your mouths shut.
Just a little note, ladies: the next time you have one of your scream-a-thons I am going to invite all of my friends over spontaneously to stand in my room and make kookaburra noises with me for as long as it takes you to get the point. Chances are, some of you are Australian. Consider this a lil' reminder of home :-D
What I am really trying to say, ladies (the condescension is so thick it can hardly get down my throat) is that while you may be in France to scream, I actually came here with the intention of learning the language. Which sometimes involves writing long papers on boring subjects- like death in Baroque art. It is very annoying to hear you having so much fun, while I sit here slaving away at the computer.
So shut up already!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Mardi Noir
The French are protesting. What are they protesting? From what I can gather: everything. Officially, it's reduced wages, reduced employment benefits, pension etc. (specifically for public transport workers) and the privatization of universities. But out in the streets, it seems that everyone has taken Mardi Noir (Black Tuesday) as an opportunity to voice their discontent. People are out there (literally right out there, I was just among them and now I can hear them ranting and chanting and stomping about) with signs asking for better employment, better wages, less homelessness etc. Students representing their universities and lycees, non-profit organizations, old people, young people, babies being pushed along in strollers (you truly get initiated to this sort of thing early in France).
But while there is a definite sense of determination in the air, an undeniable atmosphere of passion, you also get the sense that this is quite normal for them. Nobody looks like they're having the same adrenaline rush I had when I marched in front of the Capital to protest the war in Iraq. But maybe that's just an outsider's perspective- who's to say? If there could possibly be such a thing as a "calm" protest, this would be it. Two mom's strolling their babies side-by-side and appearing to be talking about the weather. Little kids meandering on the sides with a treat from the bakery in hand- not looking scared, or fascinated, or excited- as I imagine my little siblings would if there were to suddenly be a protest in the streets of our neighborhood (the only thing I can imagine Castle Pines North residents protesting is the demolition of Starbucks).
One can say all they want about the French lacking ambition, but it's a hard point to sell when you see how consistently they get off their butts and voice their discontent with a current policy.
People here might not work as much- (I do in fact, feel that most work too little)- but, in my view, their lack of enslavement to the rat race is just what allows them to be so politically aware, to follow what the government is doing and to stop it before it's too late. Protesting seems to have gone out of style in America, though complaining sure hasn't. Even if you think that the complaints of the French are petty (and at times they can seem so- do they really need to retire at 50?) you have to admire them for having the gumption, and courage, to actually do something about it.
All that said, it the truth of the matter is that the French economy isn't doing so hot and that seems to be a reality people here aren't willing to face. If retiring with a full pension at 50 seems too good to be true, it's because it probably is. While I feel that that negotiations with the people are in order, I doubt very strongly that the government can realistically give the French all that they're asking for without wreaking more havoc on the economy. The economy seems to be to France what the environment is to America: an issue whose existence people tend to ignore, or deny because it doesn't effect their generation directly.
They seem to at least have the maturity of thought to protest the issues and not the man-in-charge- aka, Sarkozy. Rather than throwing all the blame on the President- as we tend to do- these protests recognize that it's the government rather than just one man who is behind all these changes and that therefore, the government is who they should be targeting. Unlike the protest I attended in the U.S. , there weren't any inflatable devil-Sarkozys or even, as I saw anti-sarko signs. But that could also have something to do with the fact that it's so early in his term and they know that- complain or not- he's going to be around awhile.
Oh, and despite my strong belief in affordable education, I can't help but roll my eyes a little at the rampant fear that college costs might rise from a whopping...200 euros a year! That's how much I spend on BOOKS alone in the U.S.
On a semi-related note, I feel that I'm already developing somewhat of a city-dweller edge. I was just shopping at the mall yesterday when I realized how hostile my thoughts were- toward the shopkeepers and the other patrons. Just as though I was ready for someone to reprimand me, for one of those suspicious-eyed guards to accuse me of trying to shoplift. What is with having a security guard in a damn parfumerie, huh? Especially one that stares so relentlessly at you that you start to feel you actually are a thief. I'M JUST TRYING TO BUY A DAMN CONCEALER STICK! And in the midst of all this tension, this inner-grumbling, I began to understand why everyone here is a bit chilly-mannered, a bit sour-faced. They've lived in the city's combative atmosphere for years. I'm just hoping that I can somehow avoid coming back to America a jaded and bitter person, who, while having gained a fashion sense, has lost a good portion of her humanity. I hope that I can retain some of the good things city-life has given me- boldness, assertiveness, je m'en fous-ness, and lose the edginess, which would come off as especially absurd and arrogant in the oh-so-congenial Chapel Hill (which in retrospect, seems unfathomably friendly).
Oh, but they're not all bad-- for my Dad at least- who came to visit this weekend. We were stopped on the sidewalk walking back to my apartment by a lady, who, seeing that we had suitcases, said (in english) "where are you from? welcome to our city!" I am still bitter about never getting such a warm welcome. But I wanted to Lyon to make a good impression on my Dad, which I think it for the most part did, despite the multiple instances of things working according to French "logic." I told him about my grammar teacher Madame Meunier's favorite saying: "C'est pas logique!" (for when you get an answer wrong) and it became the catch phrase of his visit. You have to use use a SECRET CODE for the elevator in one building at your hotel but not another? C'est pas logique! The women at the Salon de The continue to serve the customers at the counter while you wait to order your coffee? C'est pas logique! The grocery stores close down at lunch, just when you need food the most? C'est pas logique!
C'est la France. C'est pas logique.
It was a weekend of un-thinkable luxuries- taxis, and three course meals, hot wine bought from street vendors and spontaneous chocolat chaudes in cafes. Moreover, I now have high speed internet and a cabinet bursting with groceries. SWEET HEAVEN! That's not to say we didn't
suffer a little- it was brutally, bitterly cold. Nevertheless, we did a respectable amount of sight-seeing- The presqu'ile and Vieux Lyon, taking the funicular up to Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere- which I discovered is much more splendid when you're not dizzy and dehydrated from walking all the way up to it. We also saw the ancient gallo-roman ruins and the amphitheater (built in 15BC) which was spectacular and just really surreal. Despite the cold, we were lucky enough to have lots of sunshine so it worked out alright. Our original plan was to go to the Parc de la Tete d'Or afterwards, but once we sat down and had a coffee, the extent of our tiredness sank in and we concluded we were more up for a film. So we walked all the way to the Pathe at Bellecour to see if there were any American/British films playing with just French subtitles. Unfortunately, there weren't, so we just had our own cinema experience watching clips of the Colbert report on Comedy Central in my apartment for the next hour or so.
On Saturday we had a traditional French dinner, but on Sunday we opted for a Thai restaurant in Vieux Lyon. We were the only customers there, but instead of that being awkward it was actually very relaxed and pleasant. The food was great too. I couldn't help but giggle- however, when the owners popped in a soundtrack upon our arrival that began with a pan-flute version of "The Sound of Silence"- a soundtrack that had commenced its third rotation by the time we finally left. It was just too goofy- and perfect.
So alas, it's back to the world of independent city girl-ism. No Christmas in the U.S. for me. Sad, because I could really stand to stretch out on the couch and play with my dog and talk to my family and eat home-cooked meals. But at $2000 + that's a luxury I just can't afford. And anyway, I'm quite excited about the ex-pat collaboration Elizabeth and I are having in Paris, which will undoubtedly be magical. This year I actually have more Christmas spirit than ever and I think it's the excitement of experiencing the holidays somewhere new. With ex-pat Thanksgiving dinners, advent parties and the fete de lumieres, I think it will be one of my most
exciting holiday seasons yet.
But while there is a definite sense of determination in the air, an undeniable atmosphere of passion, you also get the sense that this is quite normal for them. Nobody looks like they're having the same adrenaline rush I had when I marched in front of the Capital to protest the war in Iraq. But maybe that's just an outsider's perspective- who's to say? If there could possibly be such a thing as a "calm" protest, this would be it. Two mom's strolling their babies side-by-side and appearing to be talking about the weather. Little kids meandering on the sides with a treat from the bakery in hand- not looking scared, or fascinated, or excited- as I imagine my little siblings would if there were to suddenly be a protest in the streets of our neighborhood (the only thing I can imagine Castle Pines North residents protesting is the demolition of Starbucks).
One can say all they want about the French lacking ambition, but it's a hard point to sell when you see how consistently they get off their butts and voice their discontent with a current policy.
People here might not work as much- (I do in fact, feel that most work too little)- but, in my view, their lack of enslavement to the rat race is just what allows them to be so politically aware, to follow what the government is doing and to stop it before it's too late. Protesting seems to have gone out of style in America, though complaining sure hasn't. Even if you think that the complaints of the French are petty (and at times they can seem so- do they really need to retire at 50?) you have to admire them for having the gumption, and courage, to actually do something about it.
All that said, it the truth of the matter is that the French economy isn't doing so hot and that seems to be a reality people here aren't willing to face. If retiring with a full pension at 50 seems too good to be true, it's because it probably is. While I feel that that negotiations with the people are in order, I doubt very strongly that the government can realistically give the French all that they're asking for without wreaking more havoc on the economy. The economy seems to be to France what the environment is to America: an issue whose existence people tend to ignore, or deny because it doesn't effect their generation directly.
They seem to at least have the maturity of thought to protest the issues and not the man-in-charge- aka, Sarkozy. Rather than throwing all the blame on the President- as we tend to do- these protests recognize that it's the government rather than just one man who is behind all these changes and that therefore, the government is who they should be targeting. Unlike the protest I attended in the U.S. , there weren't any inflatable devil-Sarkozys or even, as I saw anti-sarko signs. But that could also have something to do with the fact that it's so early in his term and they know that- complain or not- he's going to be around awhile.
Oh, and despite my strong belief in affordable education, I can't help but roll my eyes a little at the rampant fear that college costs might rise from a whopping...200 euros a year! That's how much I spend on BOOKS alone in the U.S.
On a semi-related note, I feel that I'm already developing somewhat of a city-dweller edge. I was just shopping at the mall yesterday when I realized how hostile my thoughts were- toward the shopkeepers and the other patrons. Just as though I was ready for someone to reprimand me, for one of those suspicious-eyed guards to accuse me of trying to shoplift. What is with having a security guard in a damn parfumerie, huh? Especially one that stares so relentlessly at you that you start to feel you actually are a thief. I'M JUST TRYING TO BUY A DAMN CONCEALER STICK! And in the midst of all this tension, this inner-grumbling, I began to understand why everyone here is a bit chilly-mannered, a bit sour-faced. They've lived in the city's combative atmosphere for years. I'm just hoping that I can somehow avoid coming back to America a jaded and bitter person, who, while having gained a fashion sense, has lost a good portion of her humanity. I hope that I can retain some of the good things city-life has given me- boldness, assertiveness, je m'en fous-ness, and lose the edginess, which would come off as especially absurd and arrogant in the oh-so-congenial Chapel Hill (which in retrospect, seems unfathomably friendly).
Oh, but they're not all bad-- for my Dad at least- who came to visit this weekend. We were stopped on the sidewalk walking back to my apartment by a lady, who, seeing that we had suitcases, said (in english) "where are you from? welcome to our city!" I am still bitter about never getting such a warm welcome. But I wanted to Lyon to make a good impression on my Dad, which I think it for the most part did, despite the multiple instances of things working according to French "logic." I told him about my grammar teacher Madame Meunier's favorite saying: "C'est pas logique!" (for when you get an answer wrong) and it became the catch phrase of his visit. You have to use use a SECRET CODE for the elevator in one building at your hotel but not another? C'est pas logique! The women at the Salon de The continue to serve the customers at the counter while you wait to order your coffee? C'est pas logique! The grocery stores close down at lunch, just when you need food the most? C'est pas logique!
C'est la France. C'est pas logique.
It was a weekend of un-thinkable luxuries- taxis, and three course meals, hot wine bought from street vendors and spontaneous chocolat chaudes in cafes. Moreover, I now have high speed internet and a cabinet bursting with groceries. SWEET HEAVEN! That's not to say we didn't
suffer a little- it was brutally, bitterly cold. Nevertheless, we did a respectable amount of sight-seeing- The presqu'ile and Vieux Lyon, taking the funicular up to Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere- which I discovered is much more splendid when you're not dizzy and dehydrated from walking all the way up to it. We also saw the ancient gallo-roman ruins and the amphitheater (built in 15BC) which was spectacular and just really surreal. Despite the cold, we were lucky enough to have lots of sunshine so it worked out alright. Our original plan was to go to the Parc de la Tete d'Or afterwards, but once we sat down and had a coffee, the extent of our tiredness sank in and we concluded we were more up for a film. So we walked all the way to the Pathe at Bellecour to see if there were any American/British films playing with just French subtitles. Unfortunately, there weren't, so we just had our own cinema experience watching clips of the Colbert report on Comedy Central in my apartment for the next hour or so.
On Saturday we had a traditional French dinner, but on Sunday we opted for a Thai restaurant in Vieux Lyon. We were the only customers there, but instead of that being awkward it was actually very relaxed and pleasant. The food was great too. I couldn't help but giggle- however, when the owners popped in a soundtrack upon our arrival that began with a pan-flute version of "The Sound of Silence"- a soundtrack that had commenced its third rotation by the time we finally left. It was just too goofy- and perfect.
So alas, it's back to the world of independent city girl-ism. No Christmas in the U.S. for me. Sad, because I could really stand to stretch out on the couch and play with my dog and talk to my family and eat home-cooked meals. But at $2000 + that's a luxury I just can't afford. And anyway, I'm quite excited about the ex-pat collaboration Elizabeth and I are having in Paris, which will undoubtedly be magical. This year I actually have more Christmas spirit than ever and I think it's the excitement of experiencing the holidays somewhere new. With ex-pat Thanksgiving dinners, advent parties and the fete de lumieres, I think it will be one of my most
exciting holiday seasons yet.
Friday, November 16, 2007
True Diligence
Who would think that, at 11am on a Friday morning, it would be difficult to find a seat in the school library? Shouldn't everyone be in bed- sleeping, hungover??
That's not even the most baffling part. The baffling part is that the students, rather than having their lap-tops open to "Facebook" or "Perez Hilton" appear to be...working. Truly working. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Not even during exam period at Chapel Hill. The hunched over, absorbed, papers-spread-out-around-you kind of working. Now wait, that's a lie. I see two girls with their lap-tops open.
They're exchange students.
I'm a good student, but I've never been "studious." In truth, I've never felt the need to study intensely in anything except for science and math, and that's because I'm horrendously bad at them. I do my homework, but "studying" is reserved only for big, important tests. Even then, my version of "cracking open the books" is a pitifully literal one. I crack them open and that's about it. A study session for me usually involves frequent e-mail checking, coffee refills, my ipod, and chatting online. So far, it's worked for me.
And I think as far as American students go, I'm in the average- pretty good range in terms of my habits. Even at UNC- one of the most highly ranked public universities in the country- the libraries are filled with students sleeping, eating, murmuring on their cell phone. Almost no one is sans laptop, and you can frequently hear music drifting from headphones. I don't doubt that all of the students have the intention to work- otherwise they wouldn't be there- it's only that they've all found excellent diversions to it. I'd estimate, frankly, that only 20% of the students are being truly "productive."
My question is: Are the French really more diligent, or have they simply not yet discovered the treasure trove of procrastination mechanisms modern technology offers? Or is it simply that the concept of multi-tasking is a bit foreign to them? I said before that the whole culture seems structured around doing one thing at a time. You have, for example, different stores for different needs. You don't eat on the go. You don't have your cell phone attached to your head. The irony is: in eschewing the temptation to multi-task, these students are, in all likelihood, being a thousand times more productive than any facebooking American student.
It's not a new idea, of course, but I'm beginning to think I'd be a lot more productive and a lot less stressed if I modeled in the French in focusing all my energy and attention on one thing at a time. For all of the inefficiency in this country- I have to say- in this area, I think they've got it right on.
But I feel that I'm somewhat stuck in my multi-procrastinating ways. The idea of writing a paper without some seriously sugar-loaded snack and a friend's electronic presence at hand seems nearly impossible. That said, when you take into account shotty internet connection and the fact that grocery stores close at 7:30pm- I just might have too.
That's not even the most baffling part. The baffling part is that the students, rather than having their lap-tops open to "Facebook" or "Perez Hilton" appear to be...working. Truly working. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Not even during exam period at Chapel Hill. The hunched over, absorbed, papers-spread-out-around-you kind of working. Now wait, that's a lie. I see two girls with their lap-tops open.
They're exchange students.
I'm a good student, but I've never been "studious." In truth, I've never felt the need to study intensely in anything except for science and math, and that's because I'm horrendously bad at them. I do my homework, but "studying" is reserved only for big, important tests. Even then, my version of "cracking open the books" is a pitifully literal one. I crack them open and that's about it. A study session for me usually involves frequent e-mail checking, coffee refills, my ipod, and chatting online. So far, it's worked for me.
And I think as far as American students go, I'm in the average- pretty good range in terms of my habits. Even at UNC- one of the most highly ranked public universities in the country- the libraries are filled with students sleeping, eating, murmuring on their cell phone. Almost no one is sans laptop, and you can frequently hear music drifting from headphones. I don't doubt that all of the students have the intention to work- otherwise they wouldn't be there- it's only that they've all found excellent diversions to it. I'd estimate, frankly, that only 20% of the students are being truly "productive."
My question is: Are the French really more diligent, or have they simply not yet discovered the treasure trove of procrastination mechanisms modern technology offers? Or is it simply that the concept of multi-tasking is a bit foreign to them? I said before that the whole culture seems structured around doing one thing at a time. You have, for example, different stores for different needs. You don't eat on the go. You don't have your cell phone attached to your head. The irony is: in eschewing the temptation to multi-task, these students are, in all likelihood, being a thousand times more productive than any facebooking American student.
It's not a new idea, of course, but I'm beginning to think I'd be a lot more productive and a lot less stressed if I modeled in the French in focusing all my energy and attention on one thing at a time. For all of the inefficiency in this country- I have to say- in this area, I think they've got it right on.
But I feel that I'm somewhat stuck in my multi-procrastinating ways. The idea of writing a paper without some seriously sugar-loaded snack and a friend's electronic presence at hand seems nearly impossible. That said, when you take into account shotty internet connection and the fact that grocery stores close at 7:30pm- I just might have too.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Music Music, Everywhere!
After a night of insomnia (always happens to me on Saturdays for some reason) I was having myself a nice Sunday morning lie-in. Nestled up in my covers, barely conscious, the sweet sound of trumpets wafted into my dreams. Slowly, I began to wake up and realize that the trumpets were not a byproduct of my dreams, but real trumpets. I lay in bed for a minute, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and also trying to muster up the energy to sit up and look out the window. When I finally did, I indeed saw three elderly beret-wearing men tottering down my street, trumpets in tow. We made eye contact and I smiled to show that I was charmed, rather than annoyed by their (supposedly spontaneous) production.
There you go, France has officially rendered me crazy.
This has been a rather quiet weekend. On Saturday, I went to a « Salon des livres » in Bellecour. It was only a euro and, bibliophile that I am, I quite enjoyed just being in the presence of piles and piles of pretty books. The ones that delighted me the most were the children’s books, such as « Mademoiselle Princess ne veut pas manger » (Miss Princess doesn’t want to eat). But of course, I’m always a little uneasy in a market setting- afraid I’ll be solicited if I show too much interest. Add the fact that it’ll soon become evident that I’m foreign and it makes for a bit of an awkward situation. That said, when I was spoken to by a woman trying to sell a literary magazine, I found that I understood everything that she said and furthermore, was able to carry on a coherent conversation with her. Doesn’t sound like much, but I don’t think I would have been able to do it when I first arrived here.
I hope it’s not all in my imagination that my French is improving. Just lately I’ve begun to catch myself comprehending a lot more of what’s being spoken around me. Sure, I don’t get every single word, but I’m not as lost as I used to be. It’s odd, because I think I’m actually speaking less French than when I first got here, but just in the past week or so, it’s like something has begun to click. My sentences are still flawed, but it’s no longer a headache to put them together.
The other day, I went for a babysitting job interview. The mother spoke to me very quickly and the atmosphere was a bit chaotic- far from ideal. Paradoxically, the pressure seemed to actually be conducive to my French. I didn’t have time to think, my subconscious knowledge took over, and as a result I heard myself speaking more fluently than I thought I was capable of.
But what’s most encouraging, and more than that, satisfying, is the comprehension part. It makes a world of difference, psychologically, to understand what is being said around me. I feel less isolated, less vulnerable, and of course, less foreign. And that’s one of the reasons I’m really glad I decided to stay here a year rather than just a semester. It would suck to finally get the hang of things, only to turn around and go home ! Studying abroad is a funny dance of constantly taking two steps forward, one step back- meaning- progress is slow. I thought I’d finally gotten the hang of crazy store hours only to walk all the way to Carrefour on Sunday only to find out it was most definitely closed.
Luckily this place is quirky enough to counterbalance the anxiety. If ever there were men who made instruments out of vegetables and played them in public in the US of A, I might be able to deal with academic stress much better.
http://www.arbre-a-musique.fr/catalog/images/livres_CD/LICD-LUG-02GF.jpg
But to take a little detour back to the babysitting interview-- it seems that my life will be changing yet again next semester. No, I'm not leaving France (they haven't pushed me out yet). Instead, I'm going to be moving out of my apartment and in with a French family. Essentially, I get a free room and board in their apartment, plus a monthly salary, in exchange for part-time babysitting. The weekends are free, and I still get my school vacations, so I'll still be able to travel. The family is really nice, two school-age girls and two adorable kittens. Moreover, the location couldn't be better- right in the heart of the city. I'm really excited about this, as I think it'll do a world of good for my French. It also just seems like more of an authentic way to live in France. Maybe, too, I'll even be able to afford such luxuries as going out to eat, instead of living on cereal and spaghetti!
So I move in January. Until then, I'll be busy with schoolwork, and planning my Christmas vacation, which will involve going to Paris and hopefully touring the Loire Valley.
I also opened a flicker account, if anyone wants to see what I'm up to these days.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/16979015@N08/
I've only just gotten around to my daily coffee and am going to use that for being unable to conjure up a witty parting line. Peace?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Oh, Those Frogs!
France is a country whose citizens have attracted more stubborn stereotypes than any other in Europe. Arrogant, rude, bolshy, bureaucratic, sexist, chauvinistic, super chic and stylish are among many tags- true or not- attached to the supposedly garlic-eating, beret-wearing French.
The statement above is an excerpt from "europe on a shoestring" describing the culture of France. Amusing how the author gives a laundry list of negative traits, then refuses to take a stance-- that seems to be a strong indication that he/she feels all the stereotypes are true, but doesn't want to say so for fear of offending anyone. So, you might ask me, what are they really like, these French people?
The truth is: I still don't know. And I ponder the question every single day as I walk alongside them in the street, as I sit across from them on the metro, as I shuffle past one in the supermarket to buy bread. The problem, of course, is that half the time I can't understand what they're saying to me, or they can't understand what I'm saying to them. It basically comes down to this- I don't really know them, and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will.
Being a foreigner changes the way you think. You find yourself generalizing the behavior of individuals. As a result, every person you interact with is unfairly put in the position of representing his/her country. This is what I tend to do at least. If someone's rude to me in the U.S.- I think it's because they're rude. If someone is rude to me in France, I think it's because, well...they're French. And because the French do have so many negative stereotypes attached to them, they're already at a bit of a disadvantage. I'm ultra-perceptive to any bit of rudeness or laziness that the people here display because deep down, I'm sort of expecting it.
Given all this, it's impossible to make an objective judgment. I cannot tell to what extent my anxiety and insecurity about being a foreigner taints my view of the French, and I have to wonder if I would feel this way anywhere. Is it just a natural byproduct of culture shock, this hostile feeling that creeps up on me from time to time?
When you think about it, it's absurd to truly believe that a nation of people can think, act, live in a particular and similar way. And yet, stereotypes have to have at least an inkling of truth behind them- it's only that that truth is exaggerated and distorted. When I think about the stereotypes of Americans- shallow, materialistic, friendly but superficial, ambitious, fame-obsessed- I can't deny that I find them to be largely true. I can imagine a foreigner coming to the U.S. with all of these preconceived notions and finding confirmation of them everywhere they look. Then again, I would also hope that they would be pleasantly surprised to find that America is full of deep, genuine, and interesting individuals also-- because I know that it is. If this is true about America, I have to remind myself that it is also true about France.
But the fact is, and I'm beginning to realize and come to terms with it, I'll never see France the way a French person sees it. Okay, maybe if I decided to stay here for the rest of my life. Maybe. But now matter how settled I become, I'll always be l'etranger. And that's okay. I think everyone should be at least once in their lives.
Nothing will make you a patriot faster than being an ex-pat. If coming here has taught me anything, it's that France isn't perfect and America isn't so bad. Both have their problems. Both have their strengths.
I want to like the French. I really do. But they can make it mighty difficult. Here's how I feel about some of the aforementioned stereotypes.
Arrogant: In what sense? There is something ineffably arrogant about the pout they all wear. It's a bit intimidating. So are they're "super-chic" clothes. Is it so much that the French are arrogant, or that they just have that air of sophistication and self-possessedness about them that makes us think they are? Smiling is generally not a French past-time, and I think there is something quite humble looking about a smile-- something gracious and well, goofy. Conclusion: they might look arrogant, but in reality, they're probably much less fixated on success and fame as us Americans, trying to impress the world with our unnaturally white teeth.
Rude: They don't have much patience, that's for sure. And I don't appreciate the ones that just walk away from me without even bothering to say "thank you nonetheless" if I can't give them directions. On this one, I'd say that, in the world of customer service the French are DEFINITELY ruder than Americans. And the problem is that as students, this is the domain we spend most of our time dealing in. But the people outside of the domain I have always found to be very kind and thoughtful, even moreso than Americans sometimes.
Bolshy: This basically meaning pushy, I have to give a very definitive yes. The French are people who know what they want and are determined to get it. Unlike Americans who are almost obsessed with compromise, the French are unafraid to be particular and express it. I've found this with moms and their babysitting hours, teachers, and store clerks who demand exact change. This can be annoying- very- but at least they're upfront, eh? Probably leads to less resentment and passive-aggressive behavior between people in the end.
Bureaucratic: *walks into a secluded corner and laughs the hysterical laugher-of-the-damed*
YES.
Sexist: I can't tell you how many bitch-sessions I've had with my friends over the creepy behavior of French men. Despite the fact that the "Mother of Modern Feminism" Simone de Beauvoir, was herself French, it seems that this country hasn't lost it's latin influence in this domain. You know, the idea that women are objects put on this earth for men to feast their eyes upon. It's paradoxical in conjunction with the fact that, politically, France is fairly progressive in the realm of gender politics. Unlike America, reproductive rights aren't an "issue"- they're a guarantee. And if you do have a baby, child care is a lot easier to come by. Segolene Royal's formidable campaign demonstrated the country's support of female politicians. My only conclusion is that the people in politics are generally progressive-minded, but somehow, the rest of the country isn't.
Chauvinistic: As much as Americans are berated for this quality, the French have it, too. The only thing is that theirs seems a bit more justified, in light of the fact that they've got centuries of history and culture- a heritage that makes our mere 400 something years seem a little, well...dinky. It's only a speculations, but I'd guess that some of it has to do with that some of the "pride" stems from a desire to re-assert France's specialness in a world where it's strengths- litterature, art, philosophy- are no longer as highly valued. A world where countries like America- with plentiful economic and military might- but not as rich of a culture- tend to come out on top. Maybe that's why they won't accept my American Express card ANYWHERE in this city!
Super-chic and stylish- They are pretty fashionable. Men and women alike look like they've really put some thought into what they're wearing. I'd never want to go out in a hoodie and sneakers here. But I don't really miss being able to do that. I've found that a nice scarf and a pair of heels are just the sort of confidence boost one needs when braving the streets of a foreign city.
The downside is that the malls are crazy! I'll really be tempted to slap the next French person who accuses Americans of being materialistic. The best way I can think to describe an average day in a French mall...is like Christmas Eve in an American mall. The Christmas Eve of the Last Christmas Ever.
Once again, the mere act of writing this has proved illuminating. I'm not ready to give up on the French yet, and after all this contemplation, I feel that I may just be starting to understand them. A little.
The statement above is an excerpt from "europe on a shoestring" describing the culture of France. Amusing how the author gives a laundry list of negative traits, then refuses to take a stance-- that seems to be a strong indication that he/she feels all the stereotypes are true, but doesn't want to say so for fear of offending anyone. So, you might ask me, what are they really like, these French people?
The truth is: I still don't know. And I ponder the question every single day as I walk alongside them in the street, as I sit across from them on the metro, as I shuffle past one in the supermarket to buy bread. The problem, of course, is that half the time I can't understand what they're saying to me, or they can't understand what I'm saying to them. It basically comes down to this- I don't really know them, and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will.
Being a foreigner changes the way you think. You find yourself generalizing the behavior of individuals. As a result, every person you interact with is unfairly put in the position of representing his/her country. This is what I tend to do at least. If someone's rude to me in the U.S.- I think it's because they're rude. If someone is rude to me in France, I think it's because, well...they're French. And because the French do have so many negative stereotypes attached to them, they're already at a bit of a disadvantage. I'm ultra-perceptive to any bit of rudeness or laziness that the people here display because deep down, I'm sort of expecting it.
Given all this, it's impossible to make an objective judgment. I cannot tell to what extent my anxiety and insecurity about being a foreigner taints my view of the French, and I have to wonder if I would feel this way anywhere. Is it just a natural byproduct of culture shock, this hostile feeling that creeps up on me from time to time?
When you think about it, it's absurd to truly believe that a nation of people can think, act, live in a particular and similar way. And yet, stereotypes have to have at least an inkling of truth behind them- it's only that that truth is exaggerated and distorted. When I think about the stereotypes of Americans- shallow, materialistic, friendly but superficial, ambitious, fame-obsessed- I can't deny that I find them to be largely true. I can imagine a foreigner coming to the U.S. with all of these preconceived notions and finding confirmation of them everywhere they look. Then again, I would also hope that they would be pleasantly surprised to find that America is full of deep, genuine, and interesting individuals also-- because I know that it is. If this is true about America, I have to remind myself that it is also true about France.
But the fact is, and I'm beginning to realize and come to terms with it, I'll never see France the way a French person sees it. Okay, maybe if I decided to stay here for the rest of my life. Maybe. But now matter how settled I become, I'll always be l'etranger. And that's okay. I think everyone should be at least once in their lives.
Nothing will make you a patriot faster than being an ex-pat. If coming here has taught me anything, it's that France isn't perfect and America isn't so bad. Both have their problems. Both have their strengths.
I want to like the French. I really do. But they can make it mighty difficult. Here's how I feel about some of the aforementioned stereotypes.
Arrogant: In what sense? There is something ineffably arrogant about the pout they all wear. It's a bit intimidating. So are they're "super-chic" clothes. Is it so much that the French are arrogant, or that they just have that air of sophistication and self-possessedness about them that makes us think they are? Smiling is generally not a French past-time, and I think there is something quite humble looking about a smile-- something gracious and well, goofy. Conclusion: they might look arrogant, but in reality, they're probably much less fixated on success and fame as us Americans, trying to impress the world with our unnaturally white teeth.
Rude: They don't have much patience, that's for sure. And I don't appreciate the ones that just walk away from me without even bothering to say "thank you nonetheless" if I can't give them directions. On this one, I'd say that, in the world of customer service the French are DEFINITELY ruder than Americans. And the problem is that as students, this is the domain we spend most of our time dealing in. But the people outside of the domain I have always found to be very kind and thoughtful, even moreso than Americans sometimes.
Bolshy: This basically meaning pushy, I have to give a very definitive yes. The French are people who know what they want and are determined to get it. Unlike Americans who are almost obsessed with compromise, the French are unafraid to be particular and express it. I've found this with moms and their babysitting hours, teachers, and store clerks who demand exact change. This can be annoying- very- but at least they're upfront, eh? Probably leads to less resentment and passive-aggressive behavior between people in the end.
Bureaucratic: *walks into a secluded corner and laughs the hysterical laugher-of-the-damed*
YES.
Sexist: I can't tell you how many bitch-sessions I've had with my friends over the creepy behavior of French men. Despite the fact that the "Mother of Modern Feminism" Simone de Beauvoir, was herself French, it seems that this country hasn't lost it's latin influence in this domain. You know, the idea that women are objects put on this earth for men to feast their eyes upon. It's paradoxical in conjunction with the fact that, politically, France is fairly progressive in the realm of gender politics. Unlike America, reproductive rights aren't an "issue"- they're a guarantee. And if you do have a baby, child care is a lot easier to come by. Segolene Royal's formidable campaign demonstrated the country's support of female politicians. My only conclusion is that the people in politics are generally progressive-minded, but somehow, the rest of the country isn't.
Chauvinistic: As much as Americans are berated for this quality, the French have it, too. The only thing is that theirs seems a bit more justified, in light of the fact that they've got centuries of history and culture- a heritage that makes our mere 400 something years seem a little, well...dinky. It's only a speculations, but I'd guess that some of it has to do with that some of the "pride" stems from a desire to re-assert France's specialness in a world where it's strengths- litterature, art, philosophy- are no longer as highly valued. A world where countries like America- with plentiful economic and military might- but not as rich of a culture- tend to come out on top. Maybe that's why they won't accept my American Express card ANYWHERE in this city!
Super-chic and stylish- They are pretty fashionable. Men and women alike look like they've really put some thought into what they're wearing. I'd never want to go out in a hoodie and sneakers here. But I don't really miss being able to do that. I've found that a nice scarf and a pair of heels are just the sort of confidence boost one needs when braving the streets of a foreign city.
The downside is that the malls are crazy! I'll really be tempted to slap the next French person who accuses Americans of being materialistic. The best way I can think to describe an average day in a French mall...is like Christmas Eve in an American mall. The Christmas Eve of the Last Christmas Ever.
Once again, the mere act of writing this has proved illuminating. I'm not ready to give up on the French yet, and after all this contemplation, I feel that I may just be starting to understand them. A little.
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