un_deux_coeur

I came to France fully expecting to be confronted with a faceful of cultural differences. It’s Europe, not America, and therefore is bound to be unique by default. For the most part, this assumption has held true. The French eat differently, they talk differently, they dress differently, they carry themselves differently. And generally, it’s pretty cool, because practically everyone that I’ve met so far has been really nice. And as long as you’re nice, and have moderate-to-stellar hygiene, you’re fine by me and we’ll get along swimmingly.

There are some ways, however, in which France is just like America. Aside from the whole language barrier thing, if I were to tape an hour’s worth of footage from a mall or something and show it to you without sound, it could easily pass for New York. For example: Let it be known that at this point in my life, I am not particularly fond of children. /Enter disclaimer: (I blame a good ¾ of this on Dave’s Market, as a good portion of the kids who come in there are total monsters.) That’s not to say that I won’t want or have any in the future; ask me in a decade and my opinion may very well have changed. And I’m also aware that a good part of a child’s bad behavior can be attributed to either a mental issue (hail developmental psychology) or poor parenting. (For the record, I have a slew of younger cousins who are absolutely adorable and perfectly behaved.) But I don’t deal well with babies, for various reasons: I like to sleep, hence crying doesn’t agree with me; and they’re too delicate for me to handle, since whenever I hold one, I’m deathly afraid that I’m going to drop it and subsequently ruin its life. Older children, provided they’re well-behaved, don’t bother me as long as I can play with them for a few hours and then give them back, or bring them back to wherever they came from. So it’s not like I’m missing the maternal gene or anything; I just have no desire to have children anytime soon, and if I do, they are going to be well-raised and polite. As such, brat packs tend to get on my nerves. /End disclaimer.

Chalk it up to naïveté, but I thought that because (stereotypically) the French are so refined, maybe their children would be glowing examples of how kids should behave. Not so. They yell, punch each other, wind in and out of strangers’ legs, and pee on the floor in stores while the parents chuckle and say how cute they are. Of course I’ve seen some cute kids, too. There’s always a balance of both. And yeah, I know, there are always going to be bratty kids and good kids, but come on. Don’t watch your kid pee in the toy aisle, traipse through it, and then walk away. Can’t you be a little more courteous than that?

Also, if you’re a fan of PDA, pack your bags and move here this instant. If I were to take the time to count, I bet I’d see at least 20 couples a day making out hardcore on the tram, the train, and the sidewalk. And nobody looks twice. (Personally, I always cringe a little on the inside when I see a couple straddling one another in a restaurant booth at home. I’m happy that you’re in love and that you find each other that irresistible, but keep the Trojan in your pocket and skedaddle home to your bedroom, please and thank you.) I’m all for a quick peck on the lips and some hand-holding, but once the tongues come out and hands start going up shirts and down pants, that’s crossing a line.

humeur:

lazy