Some local flava
Some local flava
Almost two weeks have passed since I have journeyed over the pond, and though I felt at ease the moment I set foot on French soil, I have noted a couple silly cultural stereotypes that I would like to share:
First, horizontal striped shirts are everywhere. Yes, the typical blue and white sailor shirt is a fave here, and I’m thoroughly pleased that my wardrobe boasts a tank, a tee, and a dress congruent with this fashion statement. Don’t be fooled though, my attempts to disguise myself as “une vrai femme française” are kind of pitiful. Unfortunately, I give myself up the minute I open my mouth and try to gurgle out something that sounds French. But now that I have thoroughly degraded my ability to speak the French language, I would like to add that I am oh-so-effing determined to speak this language. I guess for now, though, I’ll just stay diligent about learning new vocabulary and mastering the verb tenses.
My second observation is about something we all consider French… “the kiss.” Now don’t get your hopes up mom, I’ve yet to kiss any French boys, BUT I have watched so many strangers suck face in public that I decided their liberal views towards PDA (public displays of affection) were another stereotype I had of the French. My sample population may be a bit skewed seeing as I have spent a large portion of my time in airports and train stations, but nonetheless I’ve concluded that these people have no problem playing tonsil hockey in broad daylight. What’s worse, not all of the makeout sessions I’ve witnessed however have been quite as classy as Droisneau’s famous photo.
Anyway, I’ll wrap this up because I am going to go walk around Sète to take some photos. I definitely won’t be blending in with my comically large camera. But hey, at least I’m wearing stripes…..
Je vous embrasse forte,