Sharing and manners

One culture shock aspect you may encounter if you actually get to know a French person might be the expectation of communal sharing. It is seen as basic manners to them, but may seem socialist or even communist to Americans.

To avoid looking selfish or rude, I have listed a few situations below with suggestions. Big surprise, they usually involve food.

l'Apéro (l'apéritif) : The cocktail before the meal.
If you are poured a drink, you may not take even a sip unless everyone else who is having any has been served, and everyone who might possible want to have some has been offered.
Drink slowly and purposefully, since you'll probably only get served 12 ounces of beer every 20 minutes or so. If you feel like re-filling your own cup, be sure to offer everyone else a refill first. The aim is never to get drunk, but only happily tipsy. Acceptable drink choices for the apéro are: Ricard, Martini (the vermouth), Champagne, Port, wiskey, coke, juice, water, or other mixed drink. Not acceptable are wine, liquers like cognac, coffee, tea, or milk.

If food is served it will either be snacks like potato chips, olives, peanuts, pistachios, only help yourself after the host has finished putting out all the hors-d'oeuvres and pouring all the drinks. Savor each chip/peanut/olive, since only a handful is served for the whole table, and never take the last one.

Mealtime:
If you feel that grumble of hunger that means it's time to eat, don't even think about snacking. You must wait until everyone else who might also eat this evening is ready for dinner, and dinner is ready. Sometimes you may need to wait an hour or more, but if you're really starving, you can have apéro (see above). You must sit down together at the same table and share whatever is cooked by putting equal portions on each plate. If someone is allergic to a certain food, or really, really hates it, they may have a separate option, but otherwise each person does not choose what they individually want to eat for dinner. Sharing the same food and eating every bite is part of the ritual that says we are family and community. Even when people are fighting or bored, busy or hours late to dinner, they still sit together, even if they're not speaking to eachother. Food, and time, must be shared. If you run out of water, wine or bread and would like more, be sure to offer to everyone else first, cutting up more bread if necessary. Whoever is serving the dinner must actually serve, doleing out portions and fetching seconds, offering the next course and making sure the coffee is ready at the end.

Snacks:
The few times snacks do happen in France, they're usually in private. You'll almost never see a French person eating in public, never while walking, never on the train, never even waiting for the train. If they are scarfing down a cookie in the metro station, chances are they're not French. Eating in front of others without offering is seen as rude, even when they're complete strangers, so nobody eats in public. A park bench at lunchtime is different, since you're not sitting accross from someone on a train, but almost always, the French will buy a small snack and then wait until they're at home or at their desk to have a bite. If anyone else is around, you must have enough snacks to share equally, even if the other person didn't ask, or doesn't seem hungry.

Birthday parties:
gifts are communal too. While there's nothing wrong with buying a personal gift to give from you to the birthday person, you may find that everyone else at the party has chipped in for one big gift: tickets to a show or a new camera for the birthday person.

Cleaning: paradox of formality vs. familiarity
When you're close family or friends, you might be expected to help set up or clear up after an event. Bring chairs, set the table, wash the dishes, sweep the floor, take out the garbage. If the host is working hard, you should go to help. Although, when at the table, someone else usually does the actual serving of food.

Evenings out:
Why go out with just two of your friends when you can invite everybody? While this does lead to some fun evenings with the group, it can also get tiring and prevent really getting to know any of them more personally. Still, failing to invite anyone may lead them to feel excluded or snubbed.

Live together, eat together, party together. While it took some getting used to, it is nice to feel that there's always people who'll be there for you.

A Word About Crêpes

Pronounced "crepps".
A tradition from Normandy (Where the Allies landed on D-Day - 2 hours northwest of Paris by car).

There are 2 kinds of crêpes - sweet and savory. Most tourists only see the sidewalk crêpe stands in Paris, but there are crêperies (crêpe restaurants) everywhere.

The thing to do is to go for a meal. One orders an apéritif perhaps (alcoholic cocktail, juice or soda) and the main course is a savory crêpe called a galette (not a crêpe). It is made in the same fashion - an ultrathin, very wide pancake, but with brown Sarazin flour - which is like whole wheat flour. The toppings are usually sliced ham, grated swiss cheese, and any combination of: more cheese, ground beef, sausage, a fried egg, chopped bacon, fresh lettuce on top, mushrooms, goat cheese, tomatoes, onions, walnuts, eggplant or seafood.

The traditional drink to accompany is Cidre - which also comes from the Normandy region where they grow many apples. French cidre is what Americans might call Nonalcoholic Apple Champagne. It is light and fizzy with an apple-juice flavor - not too sweet. It is not at all the strong autumn flavor of American apple cider. Cidre Doux is soft - 2% alcohol, while Cidre Brut is hard - 4% alcohol. You can hardly feel the alcohol - and almost never taste it. It is traditionally served in small porcelain bowls.

For dessert one orders another crêpe - a sweet crêpe this time. Made from a more cake-like flour. The crêpe is thinner and smaller and topped with any combination of butter, sugar, chocolate sauce, Nutella, banana, walnuts, jam, pears, lemon juice, Cointreau, Calvados or Grand Marnier (flambée of course.)

They may look small and thin, but you almost never finish both crêpes, or if you do, you can't walk straight for a while afterwards....

November Strike

Well, it's been over a month since I last wrote anything. Perhaps you were looking for pictures and news of the big strike? Perhaps news of more riots in France? Or gossip about the president's divorce? Honestly it's just been too busy lately to write anything, but I'll attempt to update a few things over the next couple of days....

The first strike I wrote about in October was nothing compared to the 2 week fiasco that took place in mid-November. For my part, I prepared early, and packed enough to stay at a colleague's house for the first few days. Although it was advertized to start on Wednesday the 14th, trains mysteriously began to run late on Monday evening. Tuesday already had a few trains delayed or even cancelled because of "technical difficulties", and the Metro was so packed on Tuesday morning that I had to manage my way on two busses to get to school - total time from Rambouillet to Paris on Tuesday morning: 2 1/2 hours.

Stayed at N.'s apartment on Tuesday and Wendesday evening, didn't see much of what was going on elsewhere on the trains, but on Thursday the trains were running to Rambouillet, so I left most of my luggage at school (so I could fit on the train with one small bag) and walked the 4.5 kilometers to the station in 45 minutes. In fact the train was pretty empty, since they had prepared for quite a few trains to run at rush hour, and most people were avoiding the trains altogether.

Still, the only reason I had a train was because we live outside of the RER commuter trains. Those were hardly running at all, and I only saw one Metro go by all WEEK.

So for the rest of the week I took my bike on the train and biked through Paris from the station to school. Even so, the bike lanes had heavy traffic, and the cars were mostly stopped in both directions during rush hour. At one point a roundabout was so jam packed with cars all perpendicular to eachother and honking, that I couldn't even weave my bike through - had to dodge pedestrians on the sidewalks to go around the knot.

Another evening the traffic wasn't even edging anywhere, and when I got near the station I found a policeman had roped off one of the main roads and traffic had to turn around. There didn't seem to be any reason, so bikes were allowed through, but the officer just stood there watching the cars.

Overall, people took about 2 days off of work, started from the house at 5:30am, took bikes, scooters, rollerblades, skateboards, walked, or attempted to drive. A car from one side of Paris to the other took about 2 and 1/2 hours - the same it would take to walk.

I don't really have an opinion on whether the strikers should get what they wanted or not - I don't really think much will happen in the end, but for some reason the right to go on strike is still one of the most revered civil duties in France. In case you hadn't heard, the railroad workers were followed by the Postal service, Elecric and Gas service, lawyers, teachers and most recently high school students. I think going on strike is a disease that will never be cured here, no matter what the strikers win or lose...

Strike!

Ahhhhhhhhhh, the French. How comforting to know that there are some ideologies so dear to their hearts that they'll never outgrow them. For instance, the deep-seated love of screwing the government, which inevitably leads to the ubiquitous strike.
Tomorrow's the day. Already warnings and announcements are everywhere as people buy bikes, plan carpools or call-off of work in preparation for the biggest strike since 1995. As I sit at home actually somewhat thankful to be ill with such good timing, I can't wait to hear the "horror" stories. Tonight on the news were a few pathetic laments from the 'man on the street', whining that he'll have to pay for gas and take his car tomorrow when he's already paid for his monthly rail pass, or the woman who pouts about taking two busses and walking to get to work. Meanwhile the roads will be bumper to bumper and about 2% of the train service running, it'll be total gridlock with I estimate about 30% of the rest of France, 40% of Paris, and 80% of suburban Paris completely stranded. Let the games begin!

A day in Paris

Yesterday was an unexpected delight. I rarely get to spend the day visiting in Paris, but found myself with C, his friend visiting from Germany, and another friend of mine.
First met S at the train station, and narrowly escaped having the car towed. These shady-looking tow-trucks pulled up and blocked-in the cars in the no-parking zone, then proceeded to LIFT a few cars with a sort-of built-in crane and straps that go under the car. There were no markings on the trucks, and in 5 minutes, 3 people had lost their cars. What if there was someone's dog inside?
Next we went to lunch at a great Italian restaurant in behind Montmartre. As we were eating, people in various costumes kept passing by the window outside, and we realized the street was filling with people and marching bands preparing for a parade. Then a whole troop of mannequins in Venitian festival costumes piled into the restaurant and took photos behind the bar.

After lunch we found a good spot and watched the parade go by, which turned out to be the Venganges de Montmartre - the festival to celebrate the harvest, and the wine harvest in particular.

Each region of France, and a few random groups from other countries, had their own elaborate costumes and flags representing their agricultural guild.

There were the asparagus farmers,

the cherry farmers, the florists, the gardeners, the Normans who are fishermen, the Champagnois who make Champagne, the Bordelais who make wine in Bordeaux, the Alsacians who make Reisling, and quite a few other farmers and vintners carrying rakes, baskets, passing around bottles of wine and using the tasting cups around their necks.

There were also several groups of traditional dancers and musicians with local instruments and costumes.



The older people looked particularly convincing in the dress of their native region. You'd think they just came through a time warp from some French village in 1840.

The strangest part was last. A group of baton-twirling majorettes from age 6 to 16. While they wore costumes that might have belonged in a homecoming parade in Smalltown, USA, they looked phenominally out of place in the middle of a French cultural parade, and to top it off, they marched in unison with bitter scowels on their faces while the car behind them blared nothing but techno clubbing music. Wow.

After the parade we walked up to Montmartre itself, passing all the tasting booths for various wines and agricultural products: fresh fruits, patés and cheeses.

Only bought some fresh raspberries and sat on the steps, posing as background for a dozen tourists' vacation photos.

We passed back through the giant flea-markets at Porte de Clignancourt, and later we moved on to St. Michel and Odéon to meet friends in a bar to watch the Rugby semi-final against England. The waiters were quite snooty and the posh clientele tried to keep their cool while they sipped champagne and cheered for Les Bleus.
The match was bittersweet. A great feeling of destiny filled the place as we were winning, with some 30 people watching the match through the windows on the streets outside, until the last 4 minutes when the referees called a penalty in England's favor, and they pulled ahead to win. It would have been great, but it was not to be. Even the Caveman collapsed on the field and cried.....

Mushrooms, Rugby, Food

Yesterday we had a visit from C's cousin. C made pizza and I made a pineapple upside-down cake for the first time. (Hint: it's easier with ready-made cake batter)
Then we watched the big game: the French rugby team actually beat the New Zealand All Blacks!

They were face to face when the Blacks did their tribal intimidation dance, a first apparently. Check out the one hairy French guy in the red shirt who never smiles, that's Chabal, called the Caveman (see photo above).


Afterwards there was much honking of horns and shouting in the streets. Next Saturday we play England, who beat Australia yesterday, making them actually shed tears....

Today we did a little tour of the woods since the sun was out and the air was just wonderful, warm and fresh at the same time. Gathered chestnuts from the forest floor (more for fun than for eating) and picked and ate the last blackberries.

Saw a variety of wild mushroom species that are all edible.



Tonight I had a nice evening of American culture: watched football live from the states on cable (Steelers kick ass) drank beer and ate tacos with imported seasoning mix and better than velveeta cheese.

Home sweet home.

It's good to be an international school teacher

Three weeks of school, and I like it already. First two weeks flew by, didn't even see them. Third week was the bonding field trip with the 7th grade to the Loire Valley.

We had a good team of teachers and a good group of kids. Saw castles, river ecosystems, Da Vinci's inventions, gardens, a cave, a chocolate factory of sorts, went on a boat ride and practiced Renaissance dancing.

The best parts were watching the kids in the evening activities which included ice breakers, team competitions, art activities and such. I also had a great time being the tour guide at some real French castles - my history degree finally paying off!

The kids were so smart and inquisitive and well behaved - we got compliments from a couple who had seen us at several chateaux and from the staff and other visitors at a restaurant that was rather fancy when they observed how quiet and civilized 37 twelve-year-olds could be.

School is good otherwise. There are quite a few British teachers and a variety of other nationalities. I'm teaching grades 7,8,9,10 history and 11 and 12 Theory of Knowledge (like philosophy). A demanding schedule, but I love a good challenge.

Next I'll be heading to Berlin with the 11th and 12th grade history students as a chaperone, and meanwhile planning the 10th grade history trip to Normandy - an overnight stay with 90 students and 10 teachers.

Good stuff

Some fun stuff going on lately in Rambouillet:


We went hiking in the forest and found a nice path in an area that was pretty natural, on a hillside near a stream.

I had a nice birthday and everyone had a good time at the Italian restaurant:


I got candles, bath soaps, and a nice spice rack for our kitchen:


Been working on my balcony garden and just pretty much trying to keep up with it as it grows like crazy!


Went to a baptism for C's cousin's little girl. There was a big buffet afterwards with lots of Champagne, a traditional cake made of cream puffs glued together with caramel glaze and brittle, another strawberry cream cake, and a third raspberry cream cake that we didn't even get to...


And on the back balcony the pansies that Mom bought for us last year cross-pollenated with some of the other varieties so that when I planted the seeds from last year, I got some mixed colors this year.

Weddings, Babies

Last weekend we went to Grenoble for a wedding, the second we've attended recently. I thought I'd take the opportunity to explain a little about weddings, marriage and family in France.

Now most French couples have two wedding ceremonies:

First they go to the town hall with a relatively small group of family and friends. The bride wears a simple white dress or pantsuit. There the mayor, or a deputy mayor, reads aloud a decree of marriage, makes a few inspiring comments, announces the name and occupation of the bride, groom, parents and witnesses (the best man and maid of honor). Papers are signed with a fancy pen, and people clap. The guests file downstairs, or outside as the case may be, and photos are taken as the couple descend the staircase (there usually is one).

Secondly the couple go to the church. Now traditionally the church ceremony takes place later that same day, although it is also common to have that ceremony several weeks or even months later. This time the bride dresses up in white gown, hat or veil, gloves, etc. Already married by the state, this time they are married by the church (enevitably Catholic, although not required).

After the ceremony, those guests who also received an invitation to the reception (not guaranteed), meet at the parents' house or other large reception hall around 6:00pm for cocktails in the couple's honor. Those who are also invited for dinner, stay for a large feast around 9:00 pm with as many courses as possible, followed by dancing until 3:00am to 6:00 am.

The biggest change nowadays is that most French people are no longer devout Catholics. Marriage is no longer a duty or even necessary. One in two children in France is born "out of wedlock" now, and I can affirm that while 80% of our coupled friends have children, only 10% are married, and half of those marriages happened after a baby was expected. Even presidential candidate Ségolène Royale is not married to the father of her four children, and it has not been the subject of one newspaper article in France.

So for my personal experience, I will start with the wedding of about a month ago, in Versailles.

F. and I. are 29 and 31 years old. They've been together for at least 6 years. They bought a house together about a year and a half ago, and 7 months ago announced that they were expecting a baby. He works in computers, she is a maternity nurse. About 1 month after the baby was announced, they also mentioned their engagement to be married. The marriage, I gathered, was an afterthought, to make life simpler for the child, grandparents and great-grandparents, although there has never been any question about their love and devotion to each other.

Around February, they casually mentioned that they would be getting married in late March. Luckily most of us "friends" were free that weekend. There were no official invitations, and we had to ask they day before what time the ceremony would be. There was no bachelor party, no gift registration, and no official word on what would follow the ceremony.

We arrived at the mairie of Versailles exactly at 11:30 am on a Saturday, fearing we would be late, only to see the bride and groom pull up behind us and look for a parking space. We met the rest of the 15 or so invited friends and family on the steps of the town hall and took photos of the couple in the lobby. We filed up the grand staircase, arm in arm with our significant others, and waited in the upstairs hall for the wedding before ours to finish and leave the ceremony room.

We all entered and sat in the blue velvet Louis XVI chairs, oohing and aahing at the gold-trimmed, sculpted woodwork around the room. The couple entered on the arm of one of their parents. The groom in a black suit, the bride in a cream pantsuit. The mayor wore the traditional tri-color sash. The couple sat in the front row, facing the mayor (back to us), with their witnesses at the side, and their parents directly behind. The mayor spoke of duty to the family, of the history of the room we were in, and the tradition of leaving the door open to let anyone who might want to protest the marriage enter. The couple exchanged rings, kissed, and we all clapped. The names, birthdates and occupations were read aloud and the couple and witnesses were called up to the podium to sign the papers (the only part where they faced the audience).

We all cheered at the end (the whole thing took about 15 minutes), and we went up to congratulate the couple and their parents. Then we went downstairs and waited with cameras for the couple to descend the staircase.

Afterward we discovered that we were invited back to the parents' house after dinner for the second part of the evening. So after throwing rice on the couple as they exited the mairie, we all went our separate ways.

That evening we met at the parents' house and found the remains of a large feast. Only the close family had been invited for dinner, and now they had all gone out and left the couple with friends their own age. So we ate leftovers and drank champagne and had quite a civil party with 15 or so people until about 2:00am. The couple will have the church wedding, and presumably a honeymoon, next year sometime, after the baby is born and Maman is feeling better.

The second wedding we attended recently was a bit different in spirit...

A. is a stone sculptor and D. is some sort of engineer. Both are the children of agricultural families from the small villiages that dot the Alps behind Grenoble in southeast France. They've been together at least 5 years, living together for at least 3, and had a baby girl almost 2 years ago. We received the invitation to their wedding and bachelor/ette parties a few months ago.

This time the wedding at the mairie was the only one, since the couple are not religious. We did not attend the bachelor/ette party because we were at the Versailles wedding that weekend! (see above). But for the wedding we carpooled with two other friends for the 6 hour drive, pushing 110 mph for the last 45 minutes of the trip, to arrive (again) exactly at the hour requested. Fortunately, (again) the wedding did not start exactly on time. We arrived at 4:00 pm and found one of the last parking spaces along the streets of the sloping mountain villiage of some 200 inhabitants. We followed the sounds of children up the hill and arrived at the tiny building that was the town hall. A crowd of what must have been 100 people were there, all laughing, greeting with kisses and trying to keep hold of their (collectively) 25 babies and children running everywhere.


Some were in suits, others in birkenstocks and shorts. All had visibly put on something more formal than usual, and everyone looked comfortable. The bride wore a 1970's vintage-looking gown made by her cousin, with orange and green flower trim. The groom and best man wore a sharp white suit with lime green shirt and orange tie.

As the crowd swelled to 150 and everyone had taken pictures of everyone, the mass of people shuffled into a room built to hold 70 people. The couple sat in front, with their parents behind, and finally the windows had to be opened so that those still outside could see in and hear the proceedings. Children tried to stay still, and mostly succeeded, excepting two rogue cousins with balloons that climbed on chairs and posed for cameras behind the mayor, as he continued with the ceremony.

There was no microphone, and only half of the room could see or hear what was said, but the mayor, obviously a friend of the family, joked about the presidential election and the two candidates for marriage presented here before him. I didn't even really see the rings exchanged, or the papers signed, but when they kissed and turned around a wild cheer shook the tiny building, followed by quite a few children crying. I think the best part was the giant close-up of a rooster (symbol of France) on the wall behind the mayor. It had a fog of breath as it must have been a cold day, and the whole thing reminded me of Rocky (the rooster?).

People squeezed out of the room afterward and immediately began filling glasses and serving pizza squares under the tents set up just outside. 6 cookie sheets of home made pizza and 4 cookie sheets of home made hord'oeuvres were served along with bags of chips, pretzels and peanuts. 2 milkpails of home made rum punch were emptied, along with 3 bottles of Ricard and countless bottles of Coke and juice. Everyone chatted and ate and drank for almost 2 hours while kids ran back and forth and the newlyweds made their rounds. Most of us ended up sitting on the pavement in the sun while any heeled shoes that had been worn were promptly kicked off.

After 8 strong men returned from saving a car that had rolled into the stream, everyone who was left helped clean up everything and leave the place as we found it, and we got into cars to go to the dinner reception.

As the sun set behind the mountains, the last people arrived for the real party which was held at a camper's hostel that had been rented for the occasion. The Our Lady of Tirelire hostel is a two storey building with a dining hall, kitchen and some 130 bunkbeds upstairs . Five long tables were filled with home prepared food, and nearby stood 2 kegs of beer, 2 barrels of wine and the rest of the punch. Another room had tables and chairs, one corner with a laptop and speakers and flashing lights, and a dancefloor space had been reserved in the middle.

Photos of the whole family and friends were taken, and around 8:30 everyone took a plastic plate and attacked the food. Since there weren't enough chairs, the 140 some guests sat anywhere they could. It was cold outside in the mountain air, but not freezing, and most people had already abandoned suits and skirts for jeans and sneakers.

The music was eclectic but energetic, and everyone danced. Around midnight 15 bottles of champagne were poured into plastic goblets and one gigantic chocolate cake and 6 strawberry cakes were served. I must admit I took a nap for an hour or two on one of the upstairs beds in order to last the night, but when I returned around 2:00am the dancing was more fervent than ever. Most of the older adults had left, and the young families had put their kids to bed in some of the private rooms upstairs. Around 4:00am the bride and groom disappeared, but around 5:30 they were discovered passed out on the lawn in separate sleeping bags. The groom made a reappearance and managed to stay on his feet until just before dawn.

Around 6:00am the last 15 or so of us were witness to the pot de chambre. I hear that traditionally it is a toast to the couple of some sort, and they drink from the same cup, but here the bride's brother put together an evil concoction of leftovers and tramped out to the lawn to wake up the bride and make her drink it. She had a sip and survived, while her husband didn't fare so well. The rest of us quickly ran off to the safety of the bunkbeds before we had to try some too.

The next day was sunny and warm. Babies splashed in a kiddie pool on the pavement. Dogs roamed. Children played. Everyone drank coffee and ate leftovers on picnic tables. The last people left at 3:00pm.

So, I guess that people are the same everywhere really. Weddings are formal or relaxed, religious or not. But a theme I find in France so far is: why not get married so that we can have a party?