30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
Day 8: “French”
I don’t mean to get all “Ugly American” up in here, but I don’t dedicate nearly enough thought to France or Quebec on a daily basis in order to form any intelligent opinions about all things French.
I’m vaguely aware of the basics about France. There’s the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre Museum. The current French president is François Hollande of the French Socialist Party, which seems strange to my American sensibilities because here in the United States, people throw around loaded words like “socialist” and “nazi” in the form of juvenile epithets instead of engaging in reasoned political debate. From what I’ve read, Hollande’s approval rating is extremely low. I don’t know much about Hollande’s policies or governing style, but I do wish Nicolas Sarkozy were still the French president since his name is so much more fun to say.
My knowledge of Quebec and Montreal is abysmal at best. Everything I know about Montreal, I learned from Nicky and Mike over at We Work for Cheese. Apparently, Montreal is full of sarcastic, cheese-obsessed drunks. Also, The Montreal Expos used to play baseball there up until 2004, but who really gives a crap?
Speaking of crap, I traveled to France once back in 2002, and I did all of the usual touristy things to do in Paris and Nice, including stepping on copious mounds of dog feces, because French dog owners are assholes.
My crowning achievement during this trip to France was entering a McDonald’s restaurant in Nice, and ordering a “Royale with Cheese” just for the novelty of being able to say that I’ve lived that life experience. I think officially speaking, the French Quarter Pounder is known as the “Royal Cheese”, but the cashier taking my order didn’t seem to mind my Tarantino-esque Americanism. Actually, this McDonald’s location was one of the few business establishments in France where speaking American English didn’t fetch me a chorus of condescending eye rolls. For the record, eating a Royal Cheese is basically the same thing as eating a Quarter Pounder, except the French meal somehow feels a bit more smug, sanctimonious, and condescending on the way down.
Yeah, I know…sorry. I had to go there with that tired, “French people are rude” trope. I guess that qualifies me as an unmitigated hack. My only solace is knowing that, even on my worst day, at least I’m not French.
“Sacrebleu! What a boorish thing to say!”
I know, I’m a bastard. But consider this: One of the most awesome fictional Frenchmen ever, Captain Jean-Luc Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation, primarily speaks English with a British accent. Not even Captain Picard wants to be French. I’m just saying.
Please send all hate mail to Nicky and Mike. You’ll find a link to their blog conveniently posted below. Au revois, mes amis.
30 Minus 2 Days of Writing (2013)
A painful exercise in forced inspiration brought to you by
“We Work for Cheese“
Tres bien!
This post makes me wish I had eaten something at McD’s when I was in Dublin. But I avoided.
This was a good post though. Enjoyed it!
Thanks, P.J.! I hope your trip to Dublin was enriching and enjoyable despite that obvious omission. There’s always next time, eh?
I felt enormously powerful when I was in France. A big, strong American surrounded by skinny midgets. I wanted to kick some ass, but restrained myself out of politeness.
Hah! I loved this post.
“the French meal somehow feels a bit more smug, sanctimonious, and condescending on the way down.” Brilliant line. 😀 Thanks for making me laugh.
You’re too kind, Ziva. I feel sort of sheepish for making fun of the famed French rudeness, because I feel like I’m just reaching for the low hanging fruit. I do have to admit though, I’m proud of that line.
“Everything I know about Montreal, I learned from Nicky and Mike over at We Work for Cheese. Apparently, Montreal is full of sarcastic, cheese-obsessed drunks”
Best part EVER!
Haha thanks Katherine. I just write what I know.
You had me from “I don’t mean to get all Ugly American” up in here.” Your sarcasm was totally rich.
Hey KZ! Though I’m not fond of France as a nation, I found the actual French people I met in France to be pleasant, unassuming, charming. Speaking a little of the lingo helped, of course… once I did that, I was delighted just how much English they’d conveniently forgotten they knew; merde alors, what a revelation that was. Indigo
By the way, that cat is awesome.