French people (don't) hate America

I've realized something about language. There's a stereotype about the French that they a) hate Americans b) hate the U.S. and c) hate literally everything our country symbolizes. However, most of the Parisians (and Europeans) I've met who speak English fluently have this almost unnerving obsession with the U.S. I met a man the other day who is from Luxembourg and lives in France (by the way, he speaks English, French, Italian, German and Luxembourgish, don't worry) who was telling me that he's lived and traveled extensively in the U.S. - he even stayed in South Carolina for a few years! - and that he loves, loves, loves, America and Americans. Ditto the family I work for. Ditto every French person I've met who speaks English proficiently. In fact, several English-speaking French people have, upon finding out that I'm American (they usually thing I'm English for some reason?), smiled broadly - something the French NEVER do - and said, "Oh, I LOVE your country!" You find the same sentiments among French-speaking Americans. We tend to be passionately in love with France / the French / Paris in a way that our non-French-speaking neighbors are not.

On the other hand, when an American walks into a French restaurant / bus / store and insists on speaking English (loudly) to the driver / saleslady / server who speaks nothing but French, you can cut the nationalistic tension with a knife. The American, for some reason, becomes furious because, seriously, doesn't everyone speak English? Isn't this bus driver just being intentionally obtuse? Meanwhile said bus driver is mumbling under his breath about how maybe you should try speaking the language of the country you're visiting, for a change, you self-centered American fool. This exchange leaves both parties feeling grumpy about the other's language / culture / country in general.

I think this arises from the two cultures having very different attitudes about language. Because of France's location, well-educated French people (especially along the borders) often have at least a basic understanding of English and, sometimes, German, Italian and/or Spanish. Additionally, the French are historically fiercely protective of their language - hence the existence of the Academie Francaise - and have become even moreso recently because French is steadily decreasing in its rank among the list of the world's most widely spoken languages. Combine the French language's slump in popularity with the steady influx of Arabic-speakers into France and suddenly the French see their beloved language as being in jeopardy. Meanwhile, Americans don't really feel like we need to learn another language because one of our two neighboring countries is Anglophone and even when you're traveling you can nearly always find someone who has a basic understanding of English. The French wish more people would speak French; Americans merely expect that most of the world speaks English.

Montmartre vs. Paris

The Montmartre neighborhood - especially Place du Tertre and around the Sacré-Coeur - is kind of like a "Paris at the turn of the century" themed amusement park. Like if Disney did Paris. You walk down the crooked, cobblestone streets and see crooked, old, vine-covered buildings and artists sitting outside with their easels painting the same images that Toulouse Lautrec and Picasso used to see when they lived in the neighborhood. The area is intentionally picturesque. It's actually not so bad in the winter, but once spring and good weather hit, so do the cheesy outdoor cafe terraces, craftspeople, and tourist hordes. That being said, Montmartre is charming in its own way and should be a priority for visitors to the city if only to peek into the basilica to ogle the mosaics. But it's not the place to find "authentic" Paris (if there even is such a thing). The Paris that Montmartre reflects is just an image of an era that ended somewhere between Haussmann's remodeling of the city and the German invasion of World War II.

Embarrassingly, I have to admit that when I first visited Paris at the age of 14, Montmartre, especially the Place du Tertre, was everything I had wanted Paris to be (and was disappointed it wasn't). Montmartre was the image I stored in my brain while I zealously idealized Paris and Parisian life throughout high school. And Montmartre (specifically the Montmartre of Amelie) was what I remembered and got excited about when I returned to this city when I was 20. I won't say that trip made me understand Montmartre for what it actually is, but a second visit to this city did make me replace Montmartre as the default "Paris" image in my mind with other pictures (specifically of the Marais). Honestly, it really wasn't until a few weekends ago that I fully realized just how absurd my Parisian ideal had been. You see, pretty much every time I have visited Montmartre since arriving in Paris in August the city has been in its off-season. So I could climb up the little hill to the basilica and goof around in the empty fountain and get lost on the crooked, winding streets while looking for the Dali museum in ignorant peace. I suppose I should have had some clue given that the main street leading up to the Sacré-Coeur is lined with souvenir shops and there are multitudes of shady souvenir-hawking dudes lurking at the bottom of the hill trying to make you buy a string that they tie around your finger (???). But it wasn't until my last visit to the neighborhood that I really understood - Montmartre is an amusement park minus the rides.

I was totally floored by the transformation to which the neighborhood had been subjectted. Literally thousands of people pushed their way past each other to try to get a seat on one of the newly erected covered outdoor cafe terraces on place du Tertre. There were more signs, more craftspeople / artists (and "artists"), more souvenirs, more cheesy accordian music. It was insanity.

I suppose this is why I giggled so much when on that last visit I heard a stereotypically loud, oblivious American girl say to her father while standing in Place du Tertre, "Now THIS is what I always imagined Paris would be like ever since I was a little kid." I laughed at first because, you know, what an inane thing to say! And then I laughed a little more because I used to think the exact same thing. Sorry, sunshine. This picturesque square that you are ogling excitedly through those knock-off Chanel sunglasses that you bought next to the tour Eiffel yesterday? This isn't Paris. It's too one-dimensional.

Paris is complex. It's living and evolving every day. It's wide boulevards and narrow alleys, the hipster bar near Bastille, the Arab-dominated Barbes-Rochechouart market, the awesome boulangerie next to my house (A la flute enchantée), the omnipresence of both H&M and McDonald's, the haute couture ateliers and haute cuisine restaurants. Paris is incredible and frustrating and beautiful and exciting and stressful and all of these different extremes. You can't encapsulate the idea of Paris in a theme park.

L'Avant Comptoir and other deliciousness

I have become a very adventurous eater since moving to France. Here are some things I have eaten (and liked!) here that I never would have touched in the U.S.:

Foie gras
Steak tartare
Blood sausage
Veal (just because in the U.S. people judge you)
Frog legs
Escargot
Camembert
An assortment of raw things such as eggs, tuna and salmon

One can sample all kinds of delicious things at l'Avant Comptoir, an excellent restaurant in the 6th. The little sister to larger, more famous le Comptoir de Relais (both opened by Yves Camdeborde), often people only stop in at the former for appetizers before a large sit-down meal at the latter. In fact, l'Avant Comptoir doesn't even have tables and chairs. You squeeze into the tiny space and stand at the counter. However, Kay and I have decided that l'Avant Comptoir is a great place to create a delicious (and inexpensive) lunch out of several hors d'oeuvres. We made friends with the chef (the one who prepares the food, not the one who opened the restaurant), Sebastien, so it's a fun place to go, too.

They offer several different types of sausage and ham, thinly sliced and served on a wooden cutting board. You can also get brochettes of foie gras with roasted red pepper, fried pig's feet, oxtail with horseradish cream, and grilled chicken hearts with garlic and parsley. I've also seen them serve a bone marrow dish, and I've heard tell that you can occasionally get grilled duck's neck. L'Avant Comptoir has a great atmosphere, too. You get to chatting with your neighbors (in a bizarre combination of French and English and sometimes Dutch and Japanese when you're with Kay) and you pass around a communal bread basket. They have butter, sweet pickles and other condiments on the counter to go with your bread and charcuterie.

My reawakened excitement about food has also made me want to cook more. This past week has been cooking playtime. Last weekend, Kay's friend Thomas (also a chef) taught Kay and I to make our own fresh pasta. Then on Wednesday we went to the huge market in Chinatown to buy ingredients for pad thai (we totally winged it - we didn't really have a recipe, just kind of an idea of what goes into it - but the dish came out really well). Then last night I whipped up some Thai green curry with veggies.

It's probably weird to be cooking so much Thai food in France, but one complaint I have about French food is that it's often quite bland (not the case at l'Avant Comptoir, yet another reason I love it). You see, my American palate loves having spicy Italian, Chinese and Mexican food on a pretty regular basis. I just get really bored with mustard and cream sauce being poured over literally every kind of meat and served with bland, overcooked vegetables. Obviously food at high-end French restaurants is not like this, but the stuff you eat on a daily basis is heavy on the cheese and cream and light on fresh vegetables and seasonings. The French want to hold on to their reputation as the gastronomic capital of the world, but for the most part it's the haute cuisine that will help them retain that title, not the daily fare in your average cafe.

I find this problem in fashion, too. The haute couture shows give Paris its reputation for being a fashion capital, but Parisian street fashion lacks creativity. In terms of every-day fashion (and every-day food), I find New York and London more exciting. In defense of Parisian fashion, though, you can totally get away with joutfits here.