RUDE Des Rosiers


Just off our street in the early morning hours

Friends,
I'm finally back, after a wonderful trip to Paris with my roommates R and Dee. They had a magnificent time and of course, so did I.

I will have to say, the French are a complicated bunch. They are considered rude, I found, probably because they are just not overemotive. Whereas Americans are loud and hearts-on-sleeved, the French are merely efficiently polite. And they ARE polite, never failing to greet with "bonjour" and dismiss with "au revoir." in between, however, you never know what you're going to get.

Dee is conversational in French, if said conversationalist speaks a little slower than average. Thus, when approaching a cafe and being seated, at first, she handled it all in French. When the waiter responded with hurried French, her blank stare and/or stutter elicited, a couple times, eye rolls and more quick French, stubbornly refusing to speak English (but accidentally slipping it in out of habit, no doubt).

One excellent example of the mix of French attitudes happened in a boulangerie just outside of our apartment building, on the fashionable Rue Des Rosiers in the Marais district. Dee approached the young boulangier and asked for "un baguette et un pain du chocolate" (should have been AU chocolat, but close enough, n'est-ce pas?). The shopkeeper responded in rapid french, to which Dee Responded, "Je ne comprends pas" (I do not understand.) She got another eye roll, a look of bare tolerance.

A woman to her left asked in accented English, "Do you speak English?" "Yes," Dee responded. The woman offered a reply, "I understood you. You were right." It was a nice show of support from the French citizenry!

Finally, she started to speak in Franglais from the start to show them that 1. she understood enough french to get by but that 2. she was American if they chose to speak to her in English.

This proved much more successful. In fact, the last place we dined, the waitress knew no English (even though the gimmick of the place was that they sold american food! We were dying for a burger - well, Dee and R, anyways). Dee reassured her it was okay and they got through with Dee's french just fine. See??? Nous ne sommes pas les Americains stupides! (Or is it, stupides Americains?)

Further, our landlord had a bit of a temper. Dee tried to open the washer/dryer door when she thought she unlocked it, and yet the door wouldn't budge. The landlord checked it out and sent an accusatory message that Dee broke the handle (and what a piece of le merde - handles don't just crack off here in the good ol' US of A and that he was keeping all of our security deposit to fix - $500 Euros!! Shortly thereafter, he cooled off and sent another text relenting, that he'd keep 200E cash and call it a day.

Not so fast, Dee thought. She said she couldn't get a cash advance (true - and we were paying for most things by credit card and only had 15 E left), nor was she going to leave 200E anyways for a stupid shittily made washer/dryer handle that, after extensive research, she learnt cost only 15E to replace. Plus the wretched W/D was on warranty. Dee left a check for 200 E post dated, plus the 15E cash to pay for deposit fees, and said she would cancel the check if she did not receive an invoice proving the cost of repairs.

Well, somehow it worked. The landlord sent an email after we got back to the states all polite and kind, saying it only cost 50 E total, he'd keep the 15E and forgive the rest. Oh, and he hopes we stay there again!

Dee is going to send him the 35 E difference anyway, pleased that once again the complicated french attitudes unravelled with general kindness. And when the exchange rate once again turns favorable (you know - when piggies fly!) - she will request to stay in the delightful wee apartment again.

This is a no-brainer - the Marais is one of the hippest areas in Paris. Oddly, it's a mix of Jewish and gay citizens, much like West Hollywood. Is that the key for hip areas? The Jews and the Gays, living side by side in harmony? Needless to say, it was one of the most fun areas in town and we were right in the heart of it, as well as centrally located within all the beautiful museums and landmarks.


Oh, Art!

Another fascinating aspect of the French we did not know of is how generally bizarre and cheesy their television is. Now, of course, American TV runs the gamut from gritty and intelligent to suitable only for cross-eyed three year olds (and yet marketed to adults).

But tell me this: WOuld this man be a pop star in America?



Imagine a boy in Gap jeans and plain oxford shirt studying for his exams in the back stacks of the college library. Imagine a whiserpery half-assed falsetto out of his mouth. This man is Christophe Willem. He is a star. In France.

He's a winner of their version of "Idol," and apparently his nickname was the "Turtle." No merde! At least my beloved Clay Aiken, dorky as he was, has a voice that rivals and surpasses most established pop stars. OH, we laughed our asses off at him!

A major highlight of tv there, however, was a completely uncensored version of Showgirls that was playing when we got back from New Yar's eve celebrations on the Pont Whathaveyou over the Seine. The movie is way better in French - Elizabeth Berkley is a damned near genius en francais, vraiment.

So, whilst Americans can be butt scratching morons, the French all seem cool, aloof and collected. The fact we watch "American Gladiators" just fits - and superb shows like, say, "The Wire" happily coexist. The snobby French watch programs with a Turtle turned pop singer and...Showgirls.

Fascinating! Utterly fascinating!

And last but not least, I am a strict vegetarian, and objected to every morsel of meat Dee and R gobbled down. But I must say, this was the culinary highlight:




Yes, a ham sandwich. Not just any. Thick slices, sauteed all day in onions and mushrooms, toopped with dijon mayonaise that cleared Dee's sinuses better than a double dose of Claritin. (I did sample the mustard, and the delightful baguette holding it all together.) She still raves about it. And guess where it was from? Some street fair! It cost 8 E and was served under a tent. Can you believe!

Now, understand - these are my top five foods:

1. Coffee
2. Bread
3. Cheese
4. Chocolate
5. Vodka

Wine is somewhere in the top 10. Paris is basically built around providing all of its denizens with my top four favourite foods at ALL TIMES. And you have HOURS to eat them. See, the French don't really work that m uch (okay, okay, they do, but i found it odd that the SUPERMARKET was closed on New YEars day), so they have plenty of time to eat. Then, they have to walk a mile to get where they're going next, so they stay super trim and fit. Is this a magic, wonderful world, or what??? Heaven, really!


With that, I put my (cyber)pen down and vow, with more ambition than usual, to return more often this year. I always say this, but then get distracted, by something, whether it's a new book, a new addition to the family (a cute dog which I shall discuss in detail later - unless he eats me ho ho ho ha ha - eh...), or a particularly wonderful run of TV, like Austen Month on PBS. A bunny only has so many hours in the day. Then again, my needs for self expression get the better of me. So check back, and ta ta for now, as Dee used to say in junior high...