I am not an ugly American!

So last Saturday I was in a "mood." Frankly, I’m often in a “mood” lately. I have heard about the semi-depression that can accompany the first couple of months after a move to a new country. I haven’t been immune to that, for sure. This is tough, people! In ways I never could have imagined before we left the security and familiarity of what was once (very recently) the place we called HOME. The reality is it's a little like landing on the moon. There is so much strangeness, newness, weirdness that takes a long time to get used to, if ever. When you vacation to anther country you relish the differences, the oddities of the locals can even seem quaint and it's easy to ignore the things that may rub us the wrong way or make us feel uncomfortable because it's all part of the "experience" of travel. But when you live in it, when you know you aren't going back home in a week or so, when you know it's a more permanent arrangement, it's much harder to wrap your head around the foreignness of another civilization. For better or for worse, France is not a service oriented culture. Last weekend we were at Castorama waiting and waiting to ask a clerk where to find a hook for E's swing set. A salesperson was helping someone else and they rarely say, "I'll be with you in a minute" or see if anyone else has a quick question like we had. Apparently this customer was interested in the intricacies of several drills which required many phone calls and trips to the computer. It was taking a long time. There was an old man waiting behind us. I saw another salesperson who had just finished with a customer so I went over to him and called JC over because I still don't know how to say "Where are the swing set hooks" in French (among many other things). While JC was making his way to us, the old guy scurried over (I didn't know he could move so fast) and proceeded to stand in front of me! He had somehow managed to squeeze himself into the little space between me and the salesperson. From what I've seen, this is typical of French behavior. It's happened to me many times. People will literally get in front of you in line and act oblivious when you point it out. So I was onto his game. I moved in front of him, gave him a LOOK and, like I was scolding an errant pet, said "NON!" and put my hand out to stop him from continuing his intrusion. I swear, it's like dog eat dog here in many respects. It's really a different mentality from what I'm familiar with. They don't pull their cars over when there's an ambulance or fire truck on the way to an emergency. And they park anywhere they damn well please. Let's just say the Los Angeles Parking Bureau would have a field day here. But they won't use the handicapped stall in the bathroom, even if there's a line. Such an odd dichotomy and it's all very hard to get used to. In the hypermarché, there's always a bottlenecking of carts because no one lets anyone through. And the cashiers have no problem making a line-full of people wait for ten minutes while they chat it up with a customer. Maybe it's because they're so comfortable, sitting in their chairs. Perhaps some would say I sound like an ugly American but it's more the reverse. Not to sound like a bitter berry but I have no illusions about the French mentality at this point. I tried to act decently, to be polite and follow the social norms I am used to, to say hello on occasion to a passerby, but I ended up losing my place in line, getting run over by seemingly oblivious people pushing enormous shopping carts and being ignored when I looked at someone. So, I have learned not to attempt to make eye contact at any time, to keep my head down and my senses sharp so as not to get trampled or cut in front of. I'm no Pollyanna (maybe I was, a long time ago) but I do believe in the decency of human kindness and the occasional smile or nod to a stranger.  I think part of what has been so confronting about living here is being cut off from all of that and having to deny my intrinsic nature in order to say, go grocery shopping. This is not to say I haven’t also met some pretty great French people. Hey, I married one! And, by default, this makes our little turnip French as well. She is a very lucky little girl to have dual citizenship and to reap the benefits of being a real part of the European Union. She'll be able to live and work in all of the countries represented by the EU. And being a bilingual person born in the States is, sadly, a rarity but obviously gives her an advantage.   For the record, I hate to make blanket statements about an entire culture because that’s just not fair and smells of bigotry. And the aforementioned is only my opinion, although I know I am not alone in my perceptions of the culture here. I am only pointing out the very different way in which the French seem to behave compared to what I perceive as the more open nature of Americans. And I lived in Los Angeles!