While I love all the pleasures that Italy brings and have personally bathed in them internally and externally, I have always felt more connected to France.
It could partially be because I’m half French (my mother’s side) despite the fact that she was born in the states and never grew up speaking the language with the exception of Maman and Papa. They even gave me a French name. Renee, by the way, means rebirth and is French for Irene.
While I’ve been to France countless times — more frequently when I lived in Amsterdam and London — my trip late last year was perhaps the most moving, likely because I had so many reference points.
Every hour — waking and not — was filled with vibrant images of all the things that remind one of life’s richest pleasures. Pleasure upon pleasure was bestowed upon me with every step.
In the cold drizzly rain, I walked the streets of Paris for hours without noticing how much time had passed. Or cared. I was in constant awe of the architecture, the beauty, the patisseries, cathedrals, attention to fashion and style. The list went on and on.
As I wrote in December, there were moments when I started to cry as I briskly walked past one vibrant pleasure after another, grateful for all of it, saying aloud to myself, “I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand it anymore.”
Sheer delight sat on one end, and at the other sat annoyance and confusion, “why does American society NOT revere beauty, design and the unique? Is it just a matter of economic gain and efficiency that we choose a chain and mall over a boutique and diverse market full of international wares? Is it that people require sameness because they fear the unknown? The familiar is a comfortable place after all, a cozy life indeed.
It’s not just the Yanks who crave the familiar and have fallen prey to chain-like habit. It is human nature. One of my favorite sayings which I reflect on almost daily is one that Tony Robbins frequently throws out in his seminars, “The quality of your life is in direct proportion to the amount of uncertainty you are comfortably able to live with.” Hear hear.
My friend Ray’s recent Food Imperialism post is not far afield from how I feel about chain culture and sadly, it’s making its way into Europe and the rest of the world.
When I wrote so positively of my trip to France late last year, a few friends and colleagues took offense. To be fair, only slight offense. They didn’t leave comments on my blog but they did bring it up verbally and in email. “It sounds like you hate Americans.” No, dear souls. You missed the point.
It’s not about us versus them, its simply about paying attention to beauty and applauding it. I am suggesting that not only does it warrant applause, but a standing ovation. And how could you understand the need to cheer for such beauty, if as a society, you don’t place a high value on the creation of it?
Remember that lovely saying, “It’s not what you say to someone that they’ll remember you by, but how you made them feel.” When I’m in Europe, its energy makes sure I’m feeling all of it, all of the time.
When I walk through the streets of Paris and recently, a Corsican town or village, I feel life’s pleasures grab ahold of me. They are saying, “take me, take me. I’m yours for the loving.”
It’s not just because its a foreign place and that its full of all things new. It’s because the beauty jumps out at you in so many ways and it lays its vibrant pretty head upon your breast so deeply that it permeates through to your heart and the feeling you are left with is pure gratitude.
I walk around another corner and even the dilapidated building with its rose washed exterior looks beautiful. Someone made sure there were pots of well-preserved geraniums in the front and someone else is always sweeping the street.
The shop signs have creative fonts and colors, the local pharmacy looks more like a perfumery, and the restaurant menus call me to them with their decadent offerings of chocolate mousse, frothy cappuccinos, wild game with chestnuts, figs and cherries, local wine and liquers and more than six kinds of cheese to choose from in any one sitting.
They never rush you and while the service may not always be impeccable, if you haven’t noticed, it no longer is in the states either. Yet, I’m still left with a culture that guilts me into leaving a 20% tip for any and all services, regardless of the quality.
Conversations are often started spontaneously, which often happens when I travel. It’s always been like that…..a few hours later, I have a new list of interesting names, addresses and stories to add to my life experience.
Whatever your heritage is or even part of it is, some inate ‘something’ calls to you at some point in your life and its up to you to act on that calling — or not.
French is only part of mine, yet whenever I’m there, in addition to applauding the culture’s obsession with beauty, design and all things decadent, I also applaud the peasant culture of more rural France where the countryside aesthetics, wineyards, castles, churches and stone buildings in small villages remind me of the importance of humility, empathy and appreciation for small communities, which I find online social networks are trying to replace.
We participate because so many of us have fled from the physical communities we left behind long ago, are too foreign and far removed to now return or we simply never experienced them in the first place.
And above all of this cultural appreciation, there is that special connection when I’m in France, as if part of me understands that this heritage is some of who I am and it feels so damn familiar at times, I can’t help but smile whenever I experience it.
Then there’s the language. Like many of my language purist friends, I find Italian elegant and beautiful, but when French falls upon my ears, I feel at home. I feel like dancing.
There are frustrating moments of course. For example, when I find myself unable to communicate even though I know the word, phrase or sentence structure. Sometimes I have aggravated thoughts when faced with beaucracy we don’t deal with at home, an unnecessary inefficiency they still choose to live with or the visual of the interaction I’ll be faced with if I ask a French waiter to hold the cream or go light on the oil.
After awhile, my body feels like one grossly wide and long baguette, full of enough carbs to run six marathons. My acne-adorned face becomes evident from one too many plates of rich fromage and the increased diameter of my stomach is a reminder that I need to stay away from the chocolate flan and crepe stand for a couple of days.
Laughter is often the best medicine when these things are brought to light. As I entered my hotel one evening and went to the reception where they hold the room key, the woman behind the counter smiled, remembering me and said, “cent dix huit (118)?” pretty certain that it was my room.
My mind went completely blank and in my fatigued state from walking every nook and cranny the town had to offer, I looked up and said, “un un huit (1, 1, 8).” What an idiot, I thought to myself as I walked up the stairs rather than take the elevator.
I had the same thought again and said so aloud to myself, “tu idiot. tu idiot.” If you really are part French, what was that about? For God’s sakes girl, you studied the language, used to speak it, lived in Europe and have had two French boyfriends, one of whom barely spoke English.
I repeated, “tu idiot,” and then recited “cent dix huit” ten times out loud, like a child who was being punished would write some morally righteous sentence over and over again for an ill-deed in class.
The very next day, I met charming Laurec & Catherine Rene in a shop where I was lucky enough to spend a couple of hours conversing with them in French and laughing over our silly purchases. I asked 58 year old Laurec and his wife if I could adopt them as my French parents even they were a little on the young side to be my parents. It was important to add that of course.
He kept calling me “beau” (beautiful) which the French (and often the Italians) say often. I’m frequently made to feel feminine in France and it is tastefully observed by French males as tease, flirt and throw you compliment after compliment. Harmless, fun and quite possibly a law suit in the states.
I tell Laurec in French how badly my language skills have become and surprise, surprise, his response is nothing but positive. “Non, non, c’est tres bonne,” he replies, gestering with his hands and beaming me a warm smile. Catherine agrees as she tries on a colorful beach hat, which I tell her “she must buy.”
Then “why,” I plead with them, “did I receive a crepe with eggs, mushrooms and Corsican cheese when I quite confidently asked for champignons (mushrooms), oignons (onions) et jambon (ham)? How could these words be mistaken even if my accent failed me which it often does. And my the verte (green tea) came to me as darjeeling. “Pourquoi?” I beg to know.
“My dear,” Laurec says to me in French, “your waiter surely thought you needed to have Corsican cheese and eggs with your mushrooms, not ham and onions. Would he not know better than you which combination would be more pleasurable for a Yank to try?” How could I argue with that?
Renee Blodgett is the founder of We Blog the World. The site combines the magic of an online culture and travel magazine with a global blog network and has contributors from every continent in the world. Having lived in 10 countries and explored nearly 80, she is an avid traveler, and a lover, observer and participant in cultural diversity.
She is also the CEO and founder of Magic Sauce Media, a new media services consultancy focused on viral marketing, social media, branding, events and PR. For over 20 years, she has helped companies from 12 countries get traction in the market. Known for her global and organic approach to product and corporate launches, Renee practices what she pitches and as an active user of social media, she helps clients navigate digital waters from around the world. Renee has been blogging for over 16 years and regularly writes on her personal blog Down the Avenue, Huffington Post, BlogHer, We Blog the World and other sites. She was ranked #12 Social Media Influencer by Forbes Magazine and is listed as a new media influencer and game changer on various sites and books on the new media revolution. In 2013, she was listed as the 6th most influential woman in social media by Forbes Magazine on a Top 20 List.
Her passion for art, storytelling and photography led to the launch of Magic Sauce Photography, which is a visual extension of her writing, the result of which has led to producing six photo books: Galapagos Islands, London, South Africa, Rome, Urbanization and Ecuador.
Renee is also the co-founder of Traveling Geeks, an initiative that brings entrepreneurs, thought leaders, bloggers, creators, curators and influencers to other countries to share and learn from peers, governments, corporations, and the general public in order to educate, share, evaluate, and promote innovative technologies.
