It all started with a movie
Let me get this straight: As a Frenchman working in the USA, you won't find many of my compatriots thinking I am a fully functional representative of the species. Even within the category of expatriated traitors, I raise suspicion since I don't particularly like to hang out with other French dudes talking for hours about how things as fundamental as cheese and bread are so much better over there. I guess this will get even worse now that I have started this blog -- in English.
Well, don't call me an American either. Frenchs would say so of me. Now, when Americans start agreeing with Frenchs, you know something went wrong. And wrong it would be. Before you start calling me 'buddy', consider this: I haven't own a TV for the last past 7 years. I chose my place so that I could shop walking. I couldn't care less about baseball, basketball and football. And today, Black Friday, when frantic housewives in pajamas were lining up at 5 a.m to buy cartloads of eletronics, I was still sleeping and not feeling guilty about it. I haven't set foot even in a medium-sized mall since.
And yet I started this blog feeling that it is about time France and the rest of the world get a little update on each other. Granted, I am certainly not the best guy for the job. I tend to look at facts first and have a reasonable and moderate opinion, which makes me clearly an outsider of both sides. But that's okay, because nobody cares. French would freeze in the middle of a bewildered smile when suggested that maybe not all Americans are fat evengelical trigger-happy ignorant Republicans. 83% of Americans slip into mild coma when realizing that showers are standard appliances used by a significant percentage of French households.
These cliches have been around for a while now, but I understand that things are only getting worse. A petty but reliable indicator in the last few years has been this new fashion to put some low-key, useless bad French guys in movies -- you know he is French, not because you understand the insults he mumbles, but because of the accordéon melody that precedes his appearance. He would also have one or more of the following easily recognizable features: a dark navy stripe shirt, a mustache, a beret, a long nose, a terrible accent, a composed name like Jean-Marie or Pierre-Jacques. I have just seen The Incredibles (an otherwise very funny flick), and it has to be there. It was quick, it was subtle, it was tempered -- but it was there.
Usually, I would rather count blows while lying in my bathtub filled with a warm and comfortable mix of irony and cynicism. This time I decided to stick my head out of the water.
But as I step out of the bath and make my first steps on unfamiliar ground, I would ask you to look away until I grab a towel.
Well, don't call me an American either. Frenchs would say so of me. Now, when Americans start agreeing with Frenchs, you know something went wrong. And wrong it would be. Before you start calling me 'buddy', consider this: I haven't own a TV for the last past 7 years. I chose my place so that I could shop walking. I couldn't care less about baseball, basketball and football. And today, Black Friday, when frantic housewives in pajamas were lining up at 5 a.m to buy cartloads of eletronics, I was still sleeping and not feeling guilty about it. I haven't set foot even in a medium-sized mall since.
And yet I started this blog feeling that it is about time France and the rest of the world get a little update on each other. Granted, I am certainly not the best guy for the job. I tend to look at facts first and have a reasonable and moderate opinion, which makes me clearly an outsider of both sides. But that's okay, because nobody cares. French would freeze in the middle of a bewildered smile when suggested that maybe not all Americans are fat evengelical trigger-happy ignorant Republicans. 83% of Americans slip into mild coma when realizing that showers are standard appliances used by a significant percentage of French households.
These cliches have been around for a while now, but I understand that things are only getting worse. A petty but reliable indicator in the last few years has been this new fashion to put some low-key, useless bad French guys in movies -- you know he is French, not because you understand the insults he mumbles, but because of the accordéon melody that precedes his appearance. He would also have one or more of the following easily recognizable features: a dark navy stripe shirt, a mustache, a beret, a long nose, a terrible accent, a composed name like Jean-Marie or Pierre-Jacques. I have just seen The Incredibles (an otherwise very funny flick), and it has to be there. It was quick, it was subtle, it was tempered -- but it was there.
Usually, I would rather count blows while lying in my bathtub filled with a warm and comfortable mix of irony and cynicism. This time I decided to stick my head out of the water.
But as I step out of the bath and make my first steps on unfamiliar ground, I would ask you to look away until I grab a towel.
posted by frenchdude at 1:45 PM
2 Comments:
Hello - So far, so good. I am looking forward to learning more about France. I would so love to go! So far my European adventures have been limited to the lovely London and Dublin...
Look forward to exchaning more...
Loved your blog! Trés bien!
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