i spent some time in France a few years back. about 5 1/2 months in late 2005. i had been working directly under a really mean lady-owner of a growing artsy company and didn't feel compelled to make a career of it, i was dating someone at the time who was not my cup of tea, and i had a pretty revolting set of experiences in my mid-twenties which prompted a need for a fresh beginning. i was between leases, had saved up a lot of money, paid off many debts and was ready to go.
my relatives overseas have always been extraordinary curators of my worldy whims and entertained the idea of spending more time with them to 'see what i could find.' i worked on some translation bits for my musician cousins' production company in the Alps and worked with 3-year olds on art projects at my cousin's Ecole Maternelle in Haute Normandie. and i wandered.
the next few postings are a resurrection of an old travel blog i had kept while i was overseas. i recently located the blog again and want to preserve it here.
Monday, October 17th, 2005
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| 8:28 am - Il était une fois un ciel menaçant... |
So I'm going to give this thing a whirl. Years have gone by in the bottomless pit of the internet (the warped dimension that it is) and little has changed. I'm nearing 30, I still have no solidified career to speak of, I had been diagnosed with multiple psychological disorders from which I opted to run, I took their pills (both the red and the blue), and now I'm house-sitting in Haute-Normandie with three French cats who play jazz music with their catnip toys. Life really isn't so bad, once you get the hang of the neurotic flow of traffic around the Arc de Triomphe and you realize a baguette is not just a baguette, but a staple of an entire culture. It will always be that way, a world of impatient drivers in a hub of chaos, the body of Christ sitting limp in the passenger seat...late for dinner again...so we might as well band together, this world and me, and figure out a way to at least make it F-U-N.
Yes, I quit my job in Chicago and ran to my relatives here. I love Chicago, don't get me wrong, but somehow life there was beginning to seem as contrived as the Broadway Musical of the same name. There was a staged act, a prison sentence, puppeteer lawyers and an assortment of glitzy musical acts. Sha-ZAM! Still to this day, when I tell any European which American rampart I hail from, the initial response is And while I once frequented the Green Mill which was once operated by Al Capone, I can assure you that the gangsters have left the building and have been replaced by expensive cover charges, gimmicky tours, Starbucks, Lettuce Entertain You restaurant chains and any other America-sized idea of a good time.
That's just it, you know, America is like the next size offering at Starbucks. Tall, Grande, Venti, and America sized. These are your options in America. For my friends outside the USA, at Starbucks coffee restaurant chain we stand in enormous lines and wait to order complicated espresso beverages. Orders go something like this:
In France, we find a seat in the café, a waiter comes around, we order un café, it's a small little pinky-sized drink and it takes us two hours and intense worldly conversation with others to consume it.
I suppose there is Passion in both cultures... America's bordering on obsessive compulsion, France's dwelling on individualities... but where are all the people in between supposed to go?
current mood:  contemplative
current music: Nosfell's Mindala Jinka |
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