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It’s Like Those French Have a Different Word For EVERYTHING.
Anyone out there old enough to recall Steve Martin’s Wild and Crazy Guy standup album which included a brilliant piece on being in France? “Oeuf means egg, chapeau means hat. It’s like those French have a different word for everything.”
Welcome to our lives in France. I’d be lying if I said the first week here was all steamy, pull-apart-in-your-hands crossiants and cobblestone alleys with just the perfect creperie. I’d like to tell you that we’ve been overjoyed with the romance of it all. But I can’t. I can tell you that on our first day here we walked to the Luxembourg Gardens and did have a deligtful, picturesque time - complete with a cafe creme and a ride on the carousel. But after that, it began to rain. And rain it did for days. Oh, and I went to work. Leaving my husband (who does not speak French and is not accustomed to staying home with two small children in a small apartment in an unfamiliar city) and jet lagged children to fend for themselves. They are quite self-sufficient but we were all adapting to a new set of rules and culture. Like I said, oeuf means egg.
On my third day in the office a sweet collegue (expat herself) asked, “Do you feel guilty being at work?” To which I replied by crying and leaving the office. I have to say, I NEVER expected this. We have been so thrilled for this opportunity. Delighted about the chance. Envied by supportive friends.
Expressions of challenge on this front are met with suggestion that we are, perhaps, a bit ungrateful. How can we complain of the rain in Paris?! Or, from some native Europeans, assumption that we are dissatisfied with “downsizing.” That is irksome.
We are happy to be here - that doesn’t mean it is all hapiness. I have a job. We have kids. My husband is in a new role. So am I. We are teaching our children a whole list of new rules (don’t do this, look up, watch out for the cars, hold my hand, don’t run away from me in this street, walk softly in the apartment) - any of these things is exhausting.
Bon courage, our friends say. And we keep our chins up. This past weekend we had a lovely time when the weather broke for most of the weekend and we walked, played and learned. I’m happy to be here. Just not every second.
First walk to Luxembourg Gardens
Carousel maiden tour
I still heart Paris
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4 comments for “It’s Like Those French Have a Different Word For EVERYTHING.”
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Hang in there, Scofields. The ups and downs are part of the adjustment. You ride them out and pretty soon you realize that there is comfort and routine in the new life, too.
For now, keep the cafe cremes and carousels coming. This is no time for discipline.
We are all rooting for you!
P.s. Excellent Steve Martin reference.
[...] was a better week in week 2. On Thursday night we hit the Ogilvy summer party where the husband made surf-love to a [...]
love the Steve Martin reference, when I went overseas in college Chris made me a wonderful mix tape (it was 1995) and had that bit on there, I laughed out loud at your reference!
Ah - the mixed tapes! The best ones were the ones that had the occasional random bit.