Kimberly Wirtz (The French Connection: Chapter 2)
The French are rude.
Or so we’re told.
During our time in France, however, neither Shawna nor I felt the scorn of a single local. In fact, the locals were polite, friendly, helpful – even welcoming. The worst we experienced was the stone-faced indifference on the Paris Metro.
In Europe, this lack of connection between strangers isn’t considered rude. Americans are known for being overly friendly and chatty with strangers, and that’s ok. I’m a pro at this instant familiarity. Call it an occupational hazard or a character flaw – my teachers weren’t impressed.
Kim talks too much.
Every single one of my report cards
Many Europeans think our friendliness with total strangers is odd. We don’t know them. Why would we smile at them or make small talk? Fortunately, some also find it charming (or so I’m told).
Parlez-vous Francais?
Another thing we’re told is that the French do not suffer Americans butchering their language – that they won’t speak English, even if they can, and are amused at the struggle this causes tourists.
Not so. It turns out that the French who don’t speak English well don’t speak it to us because they don’t want to appear foolish. Those who do speak it well like to speak it and consider conversing with us to be good practice.
One of our tour guides likes speaking English so much that she supplemented her adolescent English studies by translating the lyrics of Michael Jackson’s greatest hits from the 80’s.
I’m tellin’ you, just watch your mouth, ah
Michael Jackson
I know your game, hah, what you’re about, ah
Also, in my recent experience, the French appreciate the attempt to pepper in French sayings beyond “Merci.” I got a big smile from a local when he asked me in English if I spoke any French. Since I’d worked through more than 20 lessons on Pimsleur, I confidently responded with “un peu” (a little). Even our hotel receptionist was pleased that I used French to ask where the toilets are.
Admittedly, the bar for us is low.
The lesson you should take from this is not to believe everything people tell you about the people or culture of a country you plan to visit – not even that which is found in the hallowed boards of Pinterest.
Maybe you shouldn’t even listen to me. I’m no culture expert.
Yet here we are.
Oh! And subscribe to Pimsleur or another quality language program. (I swear I don’t get a cut if you do.) One thing I liked about Pimsleur is that I could do the lessons through the entertainment system in my car and on my phone. Very convenient and more engaging than listening to the radio or an audiobook.
Overpacking is an art form
“What are you packing for Paris?”
“Searching Pinterest to figure out what Parisians are wearing.”
“Me too!”
“How many suitcases are you bringing?”
“Too many.”
“Me too!”
I’ve never searched Pinterest so thoroughly as I did when trying to figure out what to pack for this trip. Paris is the center of fashion. I couldn’t just show up looking like some stereotypical tourist cargo shorts, a snarky t-shirt and a fanny pack.
Key tips I found helpful:
- Don’t wear shorts to cultural venues, especially churches. Some may not let you in and dressing so casually can be viewed as disrespectful. That said, I saw plenty of people who did wear shorts at cultural venues, but we’re striving to be better than them, right?
- Striped shirts are essential – a true wardrobe staple in France. At least that’s what I read on several fashion blog posts. In reality, I saw maybe two real-life French women wearing them.
- No berets. No…really…this one is true. Berets are only worn by tourists nowadays, and I only saw them for sale at the souvenir shops. If you choose to wear the striped shirt AND a beret, you might as well slap white stage makeup on your face and learn to mime.
- Red nail polish only. Take this one with a grain of salt. French women don’t get elaborate manicures like American women do and your ultra-long, sharp, wacky nails with bling will stand out. If you don’t care if the locals get judgy, you do you. I chose to go with a nice medium red because I usually choose to go with a nice medium red at home anyway. I had other things to worry about.
- White sneakers are fashionable – athletic trainers are not. This is also a solid piece of advice. Plain white sneakers are worn just about everywhere and with just about everything. But, for crying out loud, don’t follow my example by buying your shoes on your way to the airport. Buy them weeks in advance and break those puppies in.
- Don’t forget a trench coat. Rain or shine, people all over Paris were wearing trench coats in one variation or another. Short, long, with a belt, without a belt, double-breasted, black, beige, off-white – didn’t matter. This item really is everyone’s go-to jacket.
They’ll know you’re a tourist
All that said, the best comment I saw in my research was, “It doesn’t matter what you wear. People will know you’re a tourist.”
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, that statement isn’t supposed to scare you into thinking you’re going to get beat up for looking like a tourist. It’s supposed to reassure you that putting too much thought into “blending in” is a waste of your energy and entirely unnecessary. That interpretation might be news to the author, but that’s the meaning I’m gleaning from it.
Why are we so concerned about blending in anyway? Why is the idea of being recognized as a tourist so bad? Somehow, I don’t think Europeans are worriedly Googling “What to wear in Seattle” unless they’re wondering if they need to pack an umbrella.
After some soul searching over macarons and hot chocolate, I realized I didn’t care if people knew I was a tourist.
They’d figure that out when they saw me taking selfies under the glass pyramid at The Louvre with a canvas “Paris” shopping bag full of souvenirs thrown over my shoulder. They’d know instantly when they saw me analyzing a wall map of the Metro like I was examining a child’s head for lice. And they’d figure it out in a heartbeat when they saw me waiting in a 2-hour line for the Eiffel Tower.
It turned out that my fashion research was, largely, a waste of time.
Don’t get me wrong…I bought some great clothes during my style quest. (Don’t ask my husband how many packages showed up.) But, when faced with miles of stairs and millions of Parisians, I defaulted to jeans and a t-shirt.
Self-improvement is noble, but comfort is king.
This doesn’t mean you should trot around Paris braless in booty shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops just because that’s the most comfortable outfit you own. Comfort like that only works at the beach. Or a bar at Sturgis.
When packing all those great clothes for your trip, remember this:
You’ll be hauling all that stuff around and the airlines want your first-born child in exchange for checking a second bag. Might not be worth it.
I say “might” because I don’t know your kids. Might be a good trade. Your call.
