When I imagined my time abroad in Paris, it was all butterflies and rainbows—or rather, it was all warm baguettes and handsome strangers. Although the warm baguettes and handsome strangers turned out to be true, along with them came a barrage of things I hadn’t expected at all. To save any future Badgers who go abroad the trouble, here are five lessons I learned the hard way:
1. Eating is an event.
Eating is an integral part of French culture and the way people connect to one another, even more so than in America. When you sit down for a meal, especially if you are in a French home, expect it to take around three hours—or five if guests are present. In a restaurant, waiters are not being rude to you by leaving you alone for an hour; they are catering to your natural desire to ruminate over every course. I learned this the hard way when I sat down at the table at 8:30 for dinner and my host dad laughed, saying, “Oh, you thought we were going to eat at 8:30? No, when I say, ‘Dinner is at 8:30’ it means, ‘We will begin thinking about eating dinner at 8:30.’ You Americans eat so early!” Awesome.
2. Eating is not a public event.
This may seem to contradict my last point directly, but hear me out. Before coming to France, I didn’t realize quite how much eating-on-the-go I do in the U.S. This is probably because I was never socially reprimanded for doing so in the U.S., but the French made up for it with zeal. I have been caught eating a sandwich while walking around and have had several strangers in a row sarcastically spit “bon appetit” at me as I walked by. I was told to leave a thrift store until I was done eating a piece of chocolate. And you know that feeling when you walk out into the cafeteria in middle school with your tray and you can’t find your friends? Now you know what it feels like to eat a croissant on the Parisian metro—the entire car of people will find you sad and disgusting.
3. Making eye contact with someone on the street is not harmless, neighborly kindness.
Unbeknownst to us, we Midwesterners have been practicing our “smize” for our entire lives. (For those of you that do not religiously follow “America’s Next Top Model,” that means “smile with your eyes”). When we walk down the street, we naturally make eye contact with strangers, smile and continue along our way. There might as well be “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah” playing in the background, and this is unacceptable in Paris. Smiling at a stranger is almost synonymous with: “Wanna make out?” You learn quickly that asking strangers to make out is not what you want to do. Needless to say, I ditch the happy-go-lucky look in favor of the Grim Reaper one when I go outside.
4. Everyone is richer and better looking than you. Deal with it.
Every day in Paris is like walking around backstage at a fashion show. (Or what I imagine that to be like; I won’t pretend I’ve ever done that.) According to my completely dependable observations, 90 percent of Parisians are in their 20s, extremely good looking and have way more money than any of us will have. Or at least they are good at looking like it. At first, this is like being a kid in a candy store. But after a couple of weeks, you start noticing your growing muffin top and Great Clips haircut, and your self-esteem may take a hit. This is natural. If you want to eat less and start chain smoking to join the French, be my guest. I prefer to be an admiring onlooker, stuffing my face with eclairs.
5. Accept the eccentricities.
Finally, as with any experience in a foreign country, there are things that are difficult to wrap my head around. Why is the classic French shower designed to literally force you to sit down and wash yourself like a baby in a sink? I have no idea, but when I attempted to stand up in it anyway, I sprayed water all over the bathroom and wanted to kick myself. Why is there no online course catalog for the French University? Again, no idea, but being a lost, late American makes it worth going along with the system. Of course, along with these come the charming, lovable eccentricities that make Paris a city of legend. It just takes a little patience.
Has Riley’s column taught you a thing or two about French etiquette? If you’re looking for more advice, send an email to Riley at rbeggin@comcast.net. Look for more columns from birds abroad throughout the semester!
