reflections on two months spent in paris.

i have recently become quite active on facebook. i am realizing it is an intergral part of the global society, not just the americans, the british, or the french. we all rely on it to communicate. texting has become obsolete, chat has replaced it. words are no longer even exchanged. a simple click of the thumbs-up button portrays all that your words of praise could hope to, and more. the vagueness can be interpreted in so many ways, as a friend simply liking a photo, or as a potential boyfriend saying to all the world that he likes your face. it is very foreign to me, and though i am not quite sure i understand it, i am enjoying it. 


it was through this recent return to the world of the internet, that i came into contact with a very old friend. and though our worlds have taken very different turns, she is getting married in the fall and i am traveling with no end in sight, we are still connected. we have been sporadically messaging for a few days now, and she recently said to me that she hated paris. she loved france, but hated paris.

it was then that it hit me: a few weeks ago, i would have said the same thing. "no offense to the french, but paris is just not for me." in fact, i think i have said that very thing. now, that is no longer true.sometime, between awkward moments ordering a coffee and fumbling leaps to avoid a pile of dog shit, i have fallen in love. i have fallen in love with the smells i so detested upon arrival, with the night so sparse with stars but heavy with emotion, and with the language i fail so often to understand.

i think paris takes getting used to. the beauty must be searched for, coerced out, and courted before it will allow you to love it. london was the opposite, the beauty was there for all to see. as soon as i stepped off the plane in heathrow, i felt it. the smiling people, the general mood of laid-back alcoholism, the pompous architecture, and the overwhelming love for the queen all combined to make one incredibly enjoyable place, one where i wouldnt mind spending the rest of my life. but upon further, deeper searches, the flaws began to peek through. one begins to take everything with a grain of salt, knowing there might be a hidden underbelly you will not like.

paris is nothing like that. the people are cold, and standoffish. the streets are littered with cigarette butts, spit, dog shit, and trash. the language is hard to figure out, and people are constantly correcting you. pronunciation is labored over, and grammar almost completely ignored. everything seems backwards, even the doors open the wrong way. but if you accept it, accept the bad and just let it flow through you, you will quickly begin to see the good. paris is just like a french woman. there is a hard, self-constructed veil across herself, almost impossible to pass through. but once you do, you find underneath there is all woman, soft and loving, and above all gorgeous. now these are all gross generalizations, of course, based on my limited experience and limited comprehension. as much as i love paris, and french culture, i really do despise their university system. i am having a very hard time with it.

there seems to be so many cultural differences between the french and us americans. but, ive found, if i try to understand their culture first, i can understand them. so many fights have arisen between me and romain, simply because i was stubborn and refused to see anything besides my american ways. and ive found that is the way with the french. if you greet them with arrogance and self-defence, they will respond in kind. only the french have perfected arrogance, have protected self-defence, more so than any other culture. you will lose that encounter, undoubtedly, and be left hating everything even more. however, if you are open when you meet them, if you dont take offence to their honesty, and give it back in return, you will be greeted with respect and you will see a side of them they keep hidden.

for example, pronunciation. at first, it seems like the french are making fun of you when they correct it. there couldnt possibly be that much of a difference between what i am saying and what they are forcibly repeating  into my face. it seems unimaginably rude that a stranger at the bakery would correct my pronunciation. but they do: the postman, the newspaper man, the woman working the box office, and even the mcdonalds attendant all correct pronunciation. but not as badly as friends, people you meet at parties, people who are your own age. but ive found that its not rude, its not malicious, they want to help you learn, they want to help you be better understood. they expect you to do the same for them when they speak english. even further, they get mad when you dont. in their minds, if mistakes go uncorrected, nothing is learned. if you dont correct someone, not only are you hurting them, but you are showing them you dont care at all. it took me months to comprehend this. but that moment when the baker saw me coming in, instantly grabbed two baguettes a l'ancienne and stated, matter of factly, that my french was getting better, made all the embarrassment worth it.

i have always had an odd infatuation with english culture, it has been in me for years, ever since my english cousin first visited an eight year old me. but i must say, i am slowly falling in love with french culture the more i am exposed to it. i cannot wait for the day when i am speaking to an english speaker and become at a loss for words, unable to remember the english term for a french word so commonly used. i have been changed by the introduction to romains friends, and the introduction of me to romains family promises to change me even more.