Learning more than just a language

Outside of the 20 hours I spend cursing French grammar each week, life in Paris presents numerous other challenges. And while none are as arduous as learning to conjugate 14 tenses in a foreign language, the out-of-the-classroom lessons have been just as helpful in assimilating me into Parisian society. And by ‘assimilating’ I mean avoiding habitual humiliation, food poisoning, bankruptcy (although, I’m nearly there) and deportation.
 
And so, you might appreciate the following pearls of wisdom, and even more-so when I tell you that most were acquired the embarrassing way—through personal experience. While some were learnt through speaking with the locals, my personal favourites are those brought to you by the misfortune of others... 

• Avoid walking over metal grates on the footpath while wearing a dress, skirt or kilt (Scotsmen, beware!) unless you want the entire street to see (hopefully just) your underwear while you cop a face full of dirty wind from the underground train (the métro). And to really ramp up your level of embarrassment to ‘mortifying’, why not make sure you're wearing a g-string at the time. [Hint: it's not quite as sexy as Marilyn Munroe makes it out to be.] 

There is even a restaurant
named in honour of pigs' trotters
...a delicacy the French can keep.

• Don’t just randomly pick a dish from a French menu and hope for the best. Take this advice from someone who has ended up staring down at a steaming hot plate of pigs' trotters (oui, steer clear of ‘Pied de Cochon’ on the menu) when I first started learning French, and veal kidneys (‘Rognon de Veau’) when I knew enough French to know better. You only make this mistake twice, it seems, before you make it your mission to learn the meaning of every single food item likely to appear on a French menu. 

• It is always wise to clarify who owns the dog that is trying to eat your entrée off the dinner table before you start complaining about it to your friends (in French), because it is highly likely that the aforementioned canine belongs to the owner of the restaurant. And that very same owner, who is topping up your wine glass while you’re bitching about his bitch, is incidentally the same guy who’ll be overseeing the preparation of your main meal. Bon appétit!  

A furry little beggar.

• Never ask a French person to taste some wine unless you’re doubly sure you’ve served it at the recommended temperature. My friends, you can’t imagine the look of horror you’ll receive if the French are subjected to a sip of over-chilled wine. Oh, the horror. 

• Avoid taking the métro if you can walk. Paris is so small that you can walk from east to west in two and half hours. Believe me because I’ve hiked the radius in heels at 4am one very frustrating and slightly drunkenly morning, which reminds me...

• Don’t walk home alone at 4am in the morning in high heels (drunk). Actually, girls, don’t walk anywhere at night in Paris alone—there are plenty of dodgy people out there and (surprisingly) none of them are French.

• Don’t discuss state secrets (or mention the war) in your apartment building, because the walls are made of paper. I can actually hear the vibration of my upstairs neighbour’s mobile phone every time she receives a text message (and if it’s not her phone, she’s a pretty lonely lady). Parisian walls are so famous for being lean that there is actually a code of etiquette that prohibits the wearing of shoes inside your apartment. Presumably, this unspoken rule exists to prevent exposing your downstairs neighbours to a clumping noise over and above that already emanating from their French television station, which makes a nice segue to my next piece of advice... 

• Don’t watch French television. Sure, it’s fun to hear French Homer in ‘Les Simpsons’, for about a minute, until you become saddened by the realisation that this entire nation of people can only ever watch English programs dubbed with dreadful voiceovers. Never will the French be able to appreciate the original vocal stylings of Stewie from Family Guy, which if you ask me is one of life’s greatest travesties. The remainder of French television content seems to centre on groups of (mostly) men—at least one journalist, one comedian and too many politicians—discussing politics, the economy and current affairs. Despite the ever-present comedian, there doesn’t seem to be anything funny about these programs, but I will concede that I’m not yet fluent enough to understand ALL that is being said. But I think I’ve seen enough to advise you to avoid the disappointment altogether and go out to dinner instead. 

• Don’t buy anything that you see being cooked on the side of the road in a supermarket trolley. While this may sound like a ridiculously obvious piece of advice, you’d be stunned at the number of idiots I see munching on corn or chestnuts that have been ‘freshly’ roasted on an upside-down garbage can lid suspended across a shopping cart. If the garbage can lid isn’t enough to put you off, I’ve seen how these, often homeless, vendors rotate that corn and, trust me, you don’t want it anywhere near your mouth. 

• When two kids come up and shove a questionnaire in front of you without saying a word, punch them in the face twice, in quick succession. The questionnaire is a mere decoy to allow these illegal immigrants to steal your wallet, phone or camera. The second punch is for me, because they stole my iPhone last year and (clearly) I’m not quite over it. Thanks. 

• Never try to pay for 6€ worth of groceries with a 50€ note even at a major supermarket, because ‘Are you crazy? We can't possibly change that!’ And if you’re unlucky enough to receive a 100€ note from the cash machine (ATM), you may as well just give it to a homeless person and make it their problem (because God knows they don't have enough). 

• Don’t expect to enter a supermarket with shopping bags. ‘Not so fast, Madame. Surely you’ll be checking those Zara bags in at concierge for your collection after you’re done shopping here.’ A cloak room for bags at the supermarket? You think I jest, but alas I do not. 

• Don’t save your all-important (wine) shopping for a Sunday, or a Monday for that matter. Very few shops are open. In fact, even the fountains seem to take the day off. 

Coincidence, or is there really not a drop to spare on a Sunday?

• Don’t assume that paying to use a toilet means you’ll receive all expected amenities (you know, like toilet paper and a functioning door lock). I’ve actually taken my 0.50€ back from the lazy b*tch at the front because she hadn’t done her job properly (which made two of us).

• Never mock the cheese. The French have a sense of humour about a lot of things. Cheese is not one of them. You've been warned.

• You can safely assume that you don’t pronounce the last letter of any French word. In fact, what the hell, just ignore the last third of most French words and you’ll be fluent in no time. It seems—as is the French way—some letters are thrown in just because they look pretty.

• Don’t feel obligated to tip just because the waitperson brings your change back on a little plate. It is not customary to tip in France, but the waiters hope that all English-speakers are American (for tipping purposes only though, be sure of that).

• Don’t lose your apartment key, as this is the Parisian equivalent of dropping 1000€ in the street. No, the keys aren’t made of gold; they just open a lot more than just a lock. Most apartment doors come complete with a locking system that spans vertically up your entire door, so losing that seemingly insignificant key means having to replace the complete door locking system and being firmly reprimanded by a very unhappy landlord.

Turn your computer screen anti-clockwise by 90 degrees and you'll (literally) get the picture.
[This blogging program won't allow me to rotate the image, sorry.]

• Be sure that your handbag and all body parts are well inside the doors of the métro when you hear the siren sound, because those doors aren’t stopping for anyone. We’re all in a really big hurry, you know, and I detest having to wait more than three minutes for a train (what has become of me?).

• Stand to the right on all stairs and escalators, so people in a hurry (like me; so busy and important am I) can walk past you on the left. This is not a request; this is an instruction.

• Don’t shop on the Champs-Elysees. In fact, there’s no need to even walk down this street unless it’s November or December and you want to see the most magical lighting display and the biggest Christmas markets (hot wine!) in Paris. Otherwise, the Avenue is just a street of global chains, car retailers and too many tourists pretending that they’re not disappointed by all the global chains and car retailers.

Why would you?

• When a random guy picks up a wedding ring off the street and asks you if it’s yours, ignore him. It’s some ridiculous scam whereby he tries to persuade you into taking the ring and then hassles you for money for it. I don’t understand the logic behind this, but I’ve seen two couples fall for it just to get the guy off their back. I’ve also heard stories where a second person steals your wallet while you’re being distracted by the ringbearer. It pays just to ignore everyone who approaches you in Paris. They’ll either want directions, money or your handbag—best to make like a Parisian and give them none of the above.

• Don’t go to the larger museums on the first Sunday of any month, because they are free for all and so, quite literally, a free-for-all. Do yourself a favour on this day and avoid the three-hour line-ups to the Musée du Louvre, Musée D’Orsay or Centre Pompidou (Musée national d’art modern) and head to one of the 60-odd smaller museums. Some of these house masterpieces that rival the major museums anyway. Besides 14€ to enter the Louvre, the world’s most prestigious museum, is a steal, so who cares if you have to pay or not. Visit on the day before the last Sunday of any month and you’ll have the place (including the Mona Lisa, and she’s not that small) to yourself. Also, if you enter the Louvre from underground, you’ll skip the outside line-up, but don’t tell your friends. ;-)

• Don’t take a photo of the French police (the Gendarmerie), particularly when there are 15 vans full of them outside the US Embassy. I’ve covered the reasons why in a previous post, so I’ll not bore you by recounting the story of my near-arrest. Ah, the melodrama.

Bek xx