From Cultural Shock to Cultural Getting Used to
In two months I'm beginning my first long-term relationship with France. We've had a few flings and one awkward moment that we ignore, but overall we've always been at the honeymoon stage where I stuff my face with cheese and exclaim that a world where 2€ wine exists is a world that I want to live in.
In any successful relationship that's in it for the long haul, you come to a point where you need to accept your soul mate's flaws quirks. I've never had to accept or get used to the things in France that were different. I would joke about them and then leave the country before any of it could irk my inner core. But this time is different. These seven months will be a test to my relationship. Since France is not a real boyfriend she cannot compromise with me-- I have no choice but to compromise with her.
Here's a few things that I will have no choice but to lovingly accept:
No Food Served at Lunch (at Restaurants):
I love lunch. During a tedious day of work, lunch is a ray of sunshine. Nothing but me and food for one hour. Lunch won't tell me to fuck off. Lunch won't drool (even though I might). What I do not love however, is waking up in the morning and making this wonderful meal. I try to get up early to make lunch, but my sleepy self (a complete monster) does not agree. But at lunch, I am always comforted by the thousands of food options at my fingertips when my stomach begins to howl.
From my previous observations, this is not the case in France. Are restaurants open at lunch? Yes. Do they serve food? No. I have learned the hard way that at any time that I am so hungry that my stomach is eating itself, I cannot get food anywhere! We'll be open at seven, they say. And I cry. That's not an exaggeration. I've cried from being so hungry.
France, if being with you means that I stop being a lazy fuck and make my own food in the morning, that I can drink midday and save my money then yes, I accept. Clearly, you make me a better person.
Administration:
This one is tough for me because I cannot imagine what my mind would have to go through to accept this. Last time I was in France my residence had bed bugs. Not only did all the exterminators in the city go on vacation at the same time (because clearly entire cities become abandoned in August), but it took two whole weeks for the administration to do anything! If this was in Canada, I can already imagine newspapers covering this story in the lull of the summer. School residence has bedbugs: admin nowhere to be found. Outrage! (for a day-- until new Uber news or something).
It's an accurate stereotype that in France things move at a glacial pace. Whatever important paperwork you may need to submit, their apéro at lunch is much more important. For a country that strikes all the time, I am shocked that no one has revolted against this yet. But who knows, after seven months of living in a country that still uses snail mail for official papers, and cheques in stores, will I be just as accepting of this? Or will I be longing for the voice of a customer service agent apologizing for the long delay and offering me a discount?
Bisous:
I'm not a stranger to bisous. Whenever I see any of my Polish family we kiss each other on both cheeks. But this is my family. I live in a society with a very strict no touching! policy.
We put bags beside us on the bus to avoid our arms from touching, we put fences between our driveways to avoid our cars from touching. Our anthem is sorry! for every time we accidentally nudge someone. We reach a very intimate level of friendship before we get into each others personal spaces let alone kiss each other! (okay, maybe not always friendship). And that's just it. In France you bisous with someone you just met and it's not weird, in Canada we formally shake hands. I can accept this. Hand shaking is weird anyway-- are we in a business meeting?
French People Speaking English to Me:
This one is very specific and maybe depends on my circumstances. In France I go between being asked what département I'm from (Tourism? I said, blowing my cover as a true French person), to being addressed in English even after I start a conversation in French.
I jump between two theories for why this happens. Either my French is so horrid that they cannot stand hearing my misconjugations or they just want to practice their English. It's most likely the latter but I still can't help feeling discouraged after phrasing a perfectly correct French sentence and hearing "sure, anything else with that?" In this case, I just continue speaking French. Battle of the languages is on. Only one can remain. Sometimes it's a tie and we continue this weird French-English hybrid conversation. I'll never give up!
I have a solution to this, France. How about I come to your beautiful country and teach your young, fresh minds the art of the English language? I'll make my French impeccable and you guys get my English. Oh wait, is that what we're already doing? Then get my contract sent over here! (see section above: Administration).
Cheese:
I'm really going to miss that yellow, over-processed cheese 'product.'
Just kidding. I'm expanding my stomach and making room for all the cheese I'm going to overdose on.