Saturday, January 9, 2010

More than just a glove



I am a people-watcher par excellence . (One of the only vocab words I retained from tenth grade. That and "excoriations," which doesn't seem quite as useful). Wanting desperately to fit into Paris, I believe this skill is simultaneously welcomed and also very dangerous. Over the last few days roaming around our new city, Matt and I have observed some items of note. First of all, most of the adorable French children (a redundant expression, if there ever was one) wear glasses. And not just the unfortunate glasses that the young American children get forced on their faces. From speckled pink to neon blue, these youngsters already embody chic. Apparently, however, after their eyes are checked and specs purchased, the parents feel that their duties are over, as rarely is a child seen wearing any sort of glove or mitten. This struck me from the very beginning, as Matt and I, whose bodies are accustomed to this frigid weather, have been walking around looking like the abominable snowhomme and snowfemme. Matt and I came up with a few theories. Perhaps their hands can't be held as tightly if they're shrouded in material. Maybe the frugal French parents feel that a glove purchased for a wee one is a dollar wasted, as they inevitably end up lost (proof pictured above). Whatever the reason, it has been the ONLY concern I have thus far with the culture I am trying to embody. Give me time, as I am sure I will come up with a few more to add to my list.

That being said, as I was uploading the picture for this post, I looked a little more closely. Upon further inspection, I realized that the glove was giving me the universal "middle finger." Sadly, this is one thing I can understand in French. Is it a sign? I have been trying to shake off the small incidents here and there, like the fact that I almost walked in on an older gentlemen using the loo because I didn't understand the table behind me telling me that the restroom was occupied. Whoops! I wanted to go in and flush myself down the toilet out of embarrassment. Or, the deliciously thick almond pate that Matt and I purchased last night for dessert, cutting it up into pieces and enjoying every morsel. After further investigation, we learned that it is to be placed in dried fruit, and not to be eaten in chunks (or rolled into ornate snowflakes and snowmen with berets) like we had done. I am sure it was just one of the glove-wearing anomalies simply dropping a glove, but it seemed to be calling out to me; a wee slap in the face. I don't believe our road will be without bumps, which will make it even more magnifique when I can not only take a picture of the glove, but say "glove" in French, and eventually even inquire as to the habits of en'fant gloves and glasses.


It is with my extreme delight, however, to report that we are making daily strides in becoming Parisian (despite what the glove may be saying to me). In the Bon Marché today, Matt was sporting red corduroys, just like the ones in the Ralph Lauren section (putting aside that it is an American brand). Fashion, check. We now know the layout of our local Franprix supermarket. Food, check. I have almost mastered "bonjour" (with the exception of one instance today when I said "merci" instead. At least I was being polite?). French...help.

Overall, though, we are enjoying every moment here. The cold weather has brought a lovely blanket of snow which could not be more picturesque or romantic. Even though we are exhausted come night, each day and corner brings a new breathtaking sight and adventure. From gorgeous statues, to snow-dusted cobblestone, we are taking it all in. Even my sinus headache was cured by our new French pharmacist, Jean-Philippe! Over-priced medicine never seemed so glamorous.

And just when I start thinking about how different I am from the people here, and feel a twinge of doubt, Beyoncé comes over the radio, or in the case of today, you run into two couples from Michigan (U-Mich alum!) and New Canaan, Connecticut, on St. Germain. It will be a while before that gloves rescinds its middle finger, but for now, I will appreciate the fact that I can understand what it is saying, and make the best of it.

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