Je me sens francaise.
What exactly is the definition of a real frenchman? Want to make a list? What is more curious is the list a frenchman would make; so much more revealing.
I was invited to a soiree this past weekend. My friend told me, "Leona, I want you to meet this friend of mine because he is a REAL frenchman." hmmm... That got me wondering.
It was 3 in the morning and I was driving, or at least behind the wheel, sitting in traffic with four others in the car. We are in an embouteillage. We are blocked in traffic, in Paris, at 3 am. and no one is surprised except for me. "What is going on??" I ask. "YOU'RE IN THE CAPTIOL!" was the instant answer!!
Ahh ok, I'm trying to drive in the 'nombril du monde'. I'm in Paris and it seems so is half the world. We inch along in traffic and on occasion I'm allowed to show how I could be a successful New York taxi driver. Yes, I can cut people off. I even went through a red light trying to pass a guy in the round-about and Laurent yells out, "Bien fait!! Le feu etait rouge,mais tu l'as fait comme un vrai parisien!" (Well done! The light was red and you did that like a real parisian!)
Its music to my ears. I am in a pinball game and I'm the ball. I am ...bing..bing, bing.....bing..adding up the points and I just hit the big 200 point bing!!! How many points do I need to be french?
We are at Pascal's house. I take a deep breath because I am about to enter the 'french' world. I spend a lot of my time in the outsider's world. Afterall I am not 'from' here. I don't speak the language well. (I'm american..chuut!) I walk the streets, cruise the stores, even order food or ask a question..silly superficial things. But sometimes I'm inside the french world, swimming in the language, floating on a culture thick with innuendo, often with unblinking eyes trying to take it all in. It's always a bit frightening to dive in.
Laurent and his wife are from Lyon but they are in Paris for the weekend. Laurent is a good friend of Stephan because they worked together on the world cup. In fact at this soiree, everyone is a bit connected through work. The world cup broadcast, in fact, is served up to the world by a handful of people. Imagine all the countries, the time zones, the long list of technical logistics to broadcast a worldwide event. This is how these people know each other. They all speak english very well but tonight is a time for them to reconnect and relax. They worked in a group of thousands in Korea for the world cup of 2002. The company then shrunk to 5-10 employees. Tonight le foot is played with words...french words. ouffff.
This is why I travel. I delight in these moments. Even in the car I am feeling the pressure of language. I wonder if I will pass the evening silent. Entering into the french speaking world is not easy for my brain. Mais, on y va!
The soiree is 25 minutes outside of Paris. Just 10 minutes into the drive,Laurent has asked if I would drive home. WHAT? Perhaps my french brain translator is on the fritz. Stephan confirms..yes he is wondering if you will drive home. Um, ME??? He has no idea who I am! or how well I drive! Yikes. It's then explained that the regulations are so strict for drinking and driving that more than one glass of wine and you risk exceeding the limit. In fact if there is a question of your sobriety after a breath test, they will take a blood sample right there on the street! lol Ok ok..I can drive! It's a new car (given to Laurent's mom who is an executive.) Its france..oouff now this is going to be interesting. I haven't gotten to the FRENCH world yet and I am already wondering if I am french enough to get us all home in one piece.
We arrive at the apt. The street is quiet and quaint. The apartment is very very spacious; its clear that we are not in Paris. And then I see that the gathering has already begun. Pascal and Michele's children are also there to greet us. There is a flurry of introductions and chair shuffling. I am holding on to Stephan like a life raft. White water ahead!!!
Champagne is poured, wine too, I fill my glass with water. The table is cluttered with snacks as everyone settles in. The music is american, the ambiance is french, I feel very welcome here.
Sometimes meat is so frozen you feel like it will refuse to thaw. But I feel myself thawing. Fear is giving way. Then Pascal's son comes in. He is 11 years old. He sees that he did not greet a few of us. He very sweetly goes to Stephan then myself and give us the traditional bise , bise, a light kiss on each cheek, then exits. I melt. Its too sweet, too gentle. There is no embarrassment on his part. That's it for me. Je suis amoureuse de la France, c'est claire.
The white waters were my own fears. I pass the rest of the night afloat; a meandering journey that allows me to explore leisurely. I steer myself to different venues. In the kitchen I offer to help. Ahh we will be eating indian style cuisine. I chat with the ladies in the kitchen and marinate in this intimacy. They are so kind and welcoming. I have a private celebration in my head. All those times of grinding through french exercises has given me the privilege of this moment.
When I return to the livingroom 20 minutes later, the same discussion is going on! I love french conversations. It always seems to begin with a minor comment that then grows like a wild vine. Everyone gets to add their view. It can even become very very controversial. But not to worry, a dangerous game in the USA is childs play in french conversation. Perhaps as children they played with sabers and learned the art of TOUCHE! No need to kill the opponent to enjoy reparte. Strong statements peppered with laughter and the conversation continues. I hope to one day be able to participate, but for now I just listen with my 70% comprehension and smile.
After dinner I wander down the hallway. The apartment is like a house. Space is so luxurious here. I see Juliette, 9 years old, is in her room working on a project. She makes beautiful things out of colorful clay. She has created a women like sleeping beauty, with a beautiful dress and miniature rose on a bed. I cannot believe that she has created this on her own. Its so tiny and perfect!!! This is no ordinary child. I enter.
I love hearing french children speak. However it is normally more difficult for me to understand them. But I am brave because I am curious. She is like a mini parisian. She is very articulate and we seem to have no problem chatting. But then she is explaining her favorite american movie and I am confused. She points to the poster on her wall. What??? KILL BILL is her favorite film! lol This pretty parisian package is cleary mulit-dimensional. She has her own collection of cd's and plays one for me. Its rap in english by a french singer. I love it. I try to translate but conclude that even if he is not speaking french, its certainly not english either.
The evening takes its time. A french meal will always be in courses with appropriate beverages at each stage. As the table become full of glasses you know you are nearing the conclusion. I have missed the cheeses but am back in time for dessert. Once coffee is served I know we are nearing the final curtain call. A last glass of champagne for everyone and I am handed the keys.
It's 4 in the morning and I am walking down my street. I have successfully navigated both the river and the roads, toujours toute doite, and am now almost home.
Je reve...je suis en France, et au moins pour ce soir, je suis francaise.
I was invited to a soiree this past weekend. My friend told me, "Leona, I want you to meet this friend of mine because he is a REAL frenchman." hmmm... That got me wondering.
It was 3 in the morning and I was driving, or at least behind the wheel, sitting in traffic with four others in the car. We are in an embouteillage. We are blocked in traffic, in Paris, at 3 am. and no one is surprised except for me. "What is going on??" I ask. "YOU'RE IN THE CAPTIOL!" was the instant answer!!
Ahh ok, I'm trying to drive in the 'nombril du monde'. I'm in Paris and it seems so is half the world. We inch along in traffic and on occasion I'm allowed to show how I could be a successful New York taxi driver. Yes, I can cut people off. I even went through a red light trying to pass a guy in the round-about and Laurent yells out, "Bien fait!! Le feu etait rouge,mais tu l'as fait comme un vrai parisien!" (Well done! The light was red and you did that like a real parisian!)
Its music to my ears. I am in a pinball game and I'm the ball. I am ...bing..bing, bing.....bing..adding up the points and I just hit the big 200 point bing!!! How many points do I need to be french?
We are at Pascal's house. I take a deep breath because I am about to enter the 'french' world. I spend a lot of my time in the outsider's world. Afterall I am not 'from' here. I don't speak the language well. (I'm american..chuut!) I walk the streets, cruise the stores, even order food or ask a question..silly superficial things. But sometimes I'm inside the french world, swimming in the language, floating on a culture thick with innuendo, often with unblinking eyes trying to take it all in. It's always a bit frightening to dive in.
Laurent and his wife are from Lyon but they are in Paris for the weekend. Laurent is a good friend of Stephan because they worked together on the world cup. In fact at this soiree, everyone is a bit connected through work. The world cup broadcast, in fact, is served up to the world by a handful of people. Imagine all the countries, the time zones, the long list of technical logistics to broadcast a worldwide event. This is how these people know each other. They all speak english very well but tonight is a time for them to reconnect and relax. They worked in a group of thousands in Korea for the world cup of 2002. The company then shrunk to 5-10 employees. Tonight le foot is played with words...french words. ouffff.
This is why I travel. I delight in these moments. Even in the car I am feeling the pressure of language. I wonder if I will pass the evening silent. Entering into the french speaking world is not easy for my brain. Mais, on y va!
The soiree is 25 minutes outside of Paris. Just 10 minutes into the drive,Laurent has asked if I would drive home. WHAT? Perhaps my french brain translator is on the fritz. Stephan confirms..yes he is wondering if you will drive home. Um, ME??? He has no idea who I am! or how well I drive! Yikes. It's then explained that the regulations are so strict for drinking and driving that more than one glass of wine and you risk exceeding the limit. In fact if there is a question of your sobriety after a breath test, they will take a blood sample right there on the street! lol Ok ok..I can drive! It's a new car (given to Laurent's mom who is an executive.) Its france..oouff now this is going to be interesting. I haven't gotten to the FRENCH world yet and I am already wondering if I am french enough to get us all home in one piece.
We arrive at the apt. The street is quiet and quaint. The apartment is very very spacious; its clear that we are not in Paris. And then I see that the gathering has already begun. Pascal and Michele's children are also there to greet us. There is a flurry of introductions and chair shuffling. I am holding on to Stephan like a life raft. White water ahead!!!
Champagne is poured, wine too, I fill my glass with water. The table is cluttered with snacks as everyone settles in. The music is american, the ambiance is french, I feel very welcome here.
Sometimes meat is so frozen you feel like it will refuse to thaw. But I feel myself thawing. Fear is giving way. Then Pascal's son comes in. He is 11 years old. He sees that he did not greet a few of us. He very sweetly goes to Stephan then myself and give us the traditional bise , bise, a light kiss on each cheek, then exits. I melt. Its too sweet, too gentle. There is no embarrassment on his part. That's it for me. Je suis amoureuse de la France, c'est claire.
The white waters were my own fears. I pass the rest of the night afloat; a meandering journey that allows me to explore leisurely. I steer myself to different venues. In the kitchen I offer to help. Ahh we will be eating indian style cuisine. I chat with the ladies in the kitchen and marinate in this intimacy. They are so kind and welcoming. I have a private celebration in my head. All those times of grinding through french exercises has given me the privilege of this moment.
When I return to the livingroom 20 minutes later, the same discussion is going on! I love french conversations. It always seems to begin with a minor comment that then grows like a wild vine. Everyone gets to add their view. It can even become very very controversial. But not to worry, a dangerous game in the USA is childs play in french conversation. Perhaps as children they played with sabers and learned the art of TOUCHE! No need to kill the opponent to enjoy reparte. Strong statements peppered with laughter and the conversation continues. I hope to one day be able to participate, but for now I just listen with my 70% comprehension and smile.
After dinner I wander down the hallway. The apartment is like a house. Space is so luxurious here. I see Juliette, 9 years old, is in her room working on a project. She makes beautiful things out of colorful clay. She has created a women like sleeping beauty, with a beautiful dress and miniature rose on a bed. I cannot believe that she has created this on her own. Its so tiny and perfect!!! This is no ordinary child. I enter.
I love hearing french children speak. However it is normally more difficult for me to understand them. But I am brave because I am curious. She is like a mini parisian. She is very articulate and we seem to have no problem chatting. But then she is explaining her favorite american movie and I am confused. She points to the poster on her wall. What??? KILL BILL is her favorite film! lol This pretty parisian package is cleary mulit-dimensional. She has her own collection of cd's and plays one for me. Its rap in english by a french singer. I love it. I try to translate but conclude that even if he is not speaking french, its certainly not english either.
The evening takes its time. A french meal will always be in courses with appropriate beverages at each stage. As the table become full of glasses you know you are nearing the conclusion. I have missed the cheeses but am back in time for dessert. Once coffee is served I know we are nearing the final curtain call. A last glass of champagne for everyone and I am handed the keys.
It's 4 in the morning and I am walking down my street. I have successfully navigated both the river and the roads, toujours toute doite, and am now almost home.
Je reve...je suis en France, et au moins pour ce soir, je suis francaise.
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