vive la france

Our high school neighbor/occasional babysitter is going to France for a year on a student exchange program. I see her enthusiasm and excitement and envy that free-floating, seize-the-day joie de vivre. My memories of living in France while in college are so vivid, I am sure that if I could transport to any street in Paris, I would know exactly where I was. I spent five to six hours a day walking, aimlessly, purposely, for every reason, for no reason. I breathed that city. I became part of Paris like I've never been part of anything before or since. I lived with such an intensity, I was sure people I passed in the street could see me glowing. Actually, I'm sure no one in Paris noticed me at all. This is France I'm talking about afterall. But I was happy. Even in my homesickness (which struck during subtitled American films when the credits rolled on the New York City skyline or weekly ten-minute calls home), I was still intensely happy. It's not that I'm not happy now (although I'm sure Andrew would say that I seem serious and irritated more than happy and glowing). Life is just different -- full of responsibilities and ever-changing priorities, unfinished projects and unattainable plans, things to clean up and things to put away. I used to think I would feel like I felt when I was in France if I were French. If I lived in Paris, I would sip un cafe en plein air for hours people watching; I would eat baguette stuffed with Belgian chocolate everyday for lunch and never tire of it; I would catch my breath each and every time I stepped out of the Metro in the Latin Quarter and caught sight of Notre Dame. But I'm sure the French would finally begin to get on my nerves and my feet would start to ache. Still, I'm grateful for the memories. They remind me that once upon a time there was a girl who smiled at everyone and everything for absolutely no reason at all, even though not a single one ever smiled back. Vive la France.

So Say the French
I prefer kisses to handshakes.
I prefer to pretend I don’t understand.
I prefer those I know to those I don’t.
I prefer fresh to frozen.
I prefer wine to water.
I prefer no ice.
I prefer to ignore those who speak to me in English.
I prefer a cigarette for breakfast.
I prefer Camembert.
I prefer not to speak to Americans.
I prefer American music.
I prefer to wear an outfit everyday until it’s dirty.
I prefer to let my children pout.
I prefer serving café au lait to small dogs in fur coats to serving snobby tourists with money.
I prefer fewer choices.
I prefer to shout when I don’t agree.
I prefer public displays of affection.
I prefer not to smile.