The other day on the train I caught myself looking with confusion at their faces, their fingers, their legs and it actually surprised me how similar they looked to me despite how alien their words and culture seemed to be. To paraphrase Bill Bryson, “Germans are flumoxed by humor, the Swiss have no concept of fun, the Spanish think there is nothing rediculous about eating dinner at midnight, the Italians should never ever have been let in on the invention of the automobile, and the French, well, they’re insuffrably French.” France is certainly a confusing country for any outsider. How a country of the world’s most crotchety people manage to produce the world’s best food, art, and architecture escapes me.

 

The first thing you notice is that the French will not acknowledge your presence whether you’re walking down the street or sitting at a restaurant waiting to be served. I’ve spent three weeks trying to get a smile out of evryone I’ve passed by. I thought I was about to have my first success the other day, but the movement of the woman’s lips that I mistakenly anticipated to be the beginnings of a smile was simply her opening her mouth to work something out of her smoke stained teeth. To be fair, greeting passersby doesn’t seem to be common in any European country I’ve visited. A couple weeks back, a woman commented that one of the things she loved about Americans is how friendly they are to complete strangers. She told me that if someone ever approached you directly in Holland, you would immediately think they are mental and divert yourself from their path.

 

The French aren’t really big on service either. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had a waiter or waitress drop my dinner plate (with an audible bang) on the table as they rushed by without looking at me, likely in a hurry to resume a cell phone call or get to their next smoke break. As workers in a socialist nation, even waitstaff are paid the same wage regardless of the service they give you, and they are not shy in demonstrating that. If any country could use a system of salary earned through tips, it is France. But propose that, and the nation will go on strike. Though it’s not like you’d notice a difference at your table if you’re waiter was on strike anyway.

 

It’s a strange country, filled with all kinds of inconsitencies. For instance, it is a country of people who appreciate taking their time, whether it’s intricately wrapping a gift, painstakingly decorating a pastry, or sitting down to dinner for two hours. Yet it is also the nation that brought us the TGV for high speed train travel. And did you know that a church marriage is not valid in France? You can have the cermony in a church, but you must have a civil service performed by their version of a justice of the peace in order for you to be legally married. This from the nation that brought us the Crusades! It’s a secular nation where nothing is open on Sunday. It’s a nation of beautiful buildings and grand boulevards trimmed in the flotsam and jetsam of dogshit and cigarette butts.

 

The French breathe nicotene like we breathe oxygen. Consitently I have seen them inhale one last drag from a cigarette as they board the train only to exhale the smoke into the train compartment as if to express their individual contempt of the smoking ban on trains. Watching them exit the train is even more comedic. As they head towards the sliding door, it is with cigarette already in their puckered lips and lighter poised to strike, and they impressively manage to inhale a lungfull of nicotene before their first foot lands upon the train platform. I can only imagine that they must feel like a fish lying helplessly on the pavement gasping for air as they endure the insufferable train trip to their next hit.

 

I think what causes the French to suffer the most is that French is no longer the “lingua franca” of the world, but they have yet to acknowledge that. All of the Americam movies shown here are dubbed into French, in my assumption to convince the French that they are producing all the movies seen here. And without ever hearing or speaking English, they’re doing a pretty good job of convincing themselves that the only language spoken in the world is French. Certainly any outsider must speak French if they hope to get anywhere here. I have, however, figured out a way to trick them. I first attempt to talk them in Spanish, and they respond by saying that they do not speak Spanish but perhaps we could speak in English. I think I only get away with this because I have dark hair and a dark complexion, but my recommendation is to learn some Spanish phrases before you get here if you want to really find out how much English they know.

 

Clearly the French are doing something right if, despite their cranky disposition and appaling service, the world continues to flock to their country to eat, drink, tour, relax, and play. I have to admit, France would be such a great country if the French weren’t so, well, insuffrably French.