Looking back at this whole experience is crazy: there were some very tough times during the year, but there were also plenty of good ones too.
Reflecting back, I realize how seeing another culture enables me to understand my own better. More than ever, especially with Fourth of July just around the corner, I identify myself as an American, recognize the distinctness of our culture (both the good and the bad) and see the bonds that unite us.
Here’s some hodgepodge lists to finish things up:
Things I’m looking forward to back in the States…
- Ice cream versus gelato. Gelato is denser and less creamy. Granted, both are good, I’m just in the mood for ice cream.
- “Caffe americano” versus espresso. Europeans look down on the American version as weak and watered-down. But I’ll take my Dunkin Donuts coffee, thank you very much.
- Turning right on red. You can’t do it here.
- Not feeling like such a mother all the time. It’s sad how now I can totally relate to parenting articles in magazines…I am waging a war against crumbs; they seem to breed underneath the dining room table at night. The ritual of unbuckling and buckling the carseat when running errands; having extra tissues and wipes and hair elastics in my purse at all times. In short, I want to delay parenthood a number of years until I am ready for all that it brings.
- Handshakes rather than kisses when meeting people for the first time. By now I’ve kissed bunches of people that I had only met a couple of seconds ago. When I first arrived, the exchange of “bisous” made me anxious. I didn’t want to mess up and cause an awkward situation. Technique is important: generally you don’t actually kiss the person on the cheek, but rather put your cheek next to theirs and kiss the air beside it. Another thing is that a different number of kisses is expected depending on the region of France—a lot do three, Parisians do two, and some even do four. Forgetting can mean awkwardly getting someone’s nose jabbed in your face, or jabbing your nose in the person’s face.
- Outdoor markets in Europe. Whenever I go to a city I make a point of visiting one where the locals go, to see the goods that are sold there, the interactions between the people, a little piece of the culture.
- Taking the TGV high speed train to get around France.
- Door handles versus door knobs. Here in France you open the door with a flattened piece of metal (une poignée) rather than a round one. The advantage is that you can open them up by pressing down with your elbow—extraordinarily handy for those times when both hands are occupied, carrying a heavy box or grocery bags, for example.
- The ubiquity of boulangeries (bakeries) everywhere. It seems like you are never too far from one.
- The slower pace of living—having two whole hours just to eat lunch, and no school on Wednesdays. My speed of life especially slows down when I’m with the three-year-old. I start seeing the world through her eyes, where the simplest of things are still new and therefore interesting. A walk down the street can take us an hour because we stop every couple of steps to look at the blueness of the sky and the thickness of the clouds, to collect some pebbles, to inspect the dirt and the critters that are crawling in it.
- My bathroom: It has two sinks, side by side. What a luxury to get to choose left or right before brushing my teeth.
- Feeling like I am in an Evian commercial when the skies are clear and the Alps can be seen everywhere.
- The popularity of soccer. Europe is really futbol frenzy land. Traveling around, I find that the soccer schedule colors the atmosphere of a city. It was always pretty easy to locate a stadium when I could hear cheers and boos from blocks away. When I was in Rome, there was a game against Scotland, so when I went to see the Pantheon I was surrounded by men in kilts. In Milan, there was an important game against Barcelona, so all the trams on the way to the stadium were jam-packed with fans singing songs in Spanish at the top of their lungs. Oh yeah, and then there was the time I was babysitting two little boys. They had lots of energy, so I thought it would be a good idea to go outside and play some sports. We tried volleyball, baseball, and basketball. All were miserable failures; their movements were totally uncoordinated. Playing catch, dribbling the ball, forget it—I was feeling like Michael Jordan in comparison. Then we found the soccer ball and I was a goner. They were able to maneuver themselves and the ball up and down the field so easily. My legs were tripping over themselves.
- Being shrilly corrected on my French grammar by a precocious three-year-old. “No, no, no, Ali! It’s not de la voiture, it’s à la voiture.”
- The lengthened relativity of history. I realized this last week when I was talking to my French teacher. Our conversation was in French, but the rough translation is something like this: She asked how old the church in the town where I live is, and I said “Oh, it’s pretty old, I think it was built in 1826…” She laughed and joked, “Oh, you are such an American! You think that’s old? That’s not old.” and reminded me how many churches there are that go back from much further—while in the US, I think something built in 1826 would be generally considered quite old.
- Traffic lights that turn from red-to-yellow-to-green AND green-to-yellow-to-red (that is, there is always a yellow light in between a switch from red and green).
- Driving stick shift. I was complaining about it at the beginning of the year, but now I absolutely love it.
Things I'm not going to miss...
- Seeing European men wearing man-capris all the time.
- Occasionally getting the feeling that I’m surrounded by a bunch of sheep. Instead of saying, “Ummm,” the French say, “Baaahh..oui” or “Baaaah…non” for that second of pause in which they are thinking. It’s hilarious.
