Ooh La La
Ooh La La
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: We’re nestled in a snug little apartment in the town of Klaksvik, in the Faroe Islands. The Faroes are in the North Atlantic, somewhere between Shetland and Iceland. The population of Klaksvik—the second-largest community in the country—is approximately five thousand (that’s the people, not the sheep). We’re having a bit of cultural whiplash over the move from France to here.
Ooh La La
I really enjoyed having such a long spell in France; we were there almost two and a half months, which gave me time to really pay attention and start noticing the little things (as well as gain several pounds). Before I get too entranced by the wild beauty of Faroe, I wanted to share some of what I observed.
Preface: there is a truism in the US, or a belief, or maybe myth is the appropriate word, that French people are aloof. We read that they aren’t friendly, or they don’t like strangers, or they’re not nice to tourists. Well, listen up, y’all—I’m calling bullshit on that. We met wonderful people in France. They were sociable and friendly and helpful.
At the market in Provence, I made friends with the lady who sold the extra-large cherries—she had a Bluetooth speaker set up in her booth and we had little impromptu dance jams to her great playlist. She told me how much she wants to visit Miami. The guy at the olive stall told me how he loves to take his kids to visit America’s national parks, and listed off every one he’s been to (more than I have, actually). At the market in Rennes, the guy with the tiny chocolate cakes told me how he was in the merchant marine and used to sail to the Great Lakes. One of our Airbnb hosts gave us a box of cherries from her mother’s tree; the other rode his bike around town and stopped to chat every time he saw us. I got a haircut a few days before we left, and the stylist very patiently helped me practice my French the entire time he was working on my hair. (He also insisted we visit the Dordogne region next time we’re there, so yay! I’m always happy to have an excuse to go back to France.)
I have a hunch that if there are Americans who’ve come away with the impression that the French are an inhospitable people, it was because they were interacting with people who work in the tourism industry—probably in Paris. Paris is the most-visited city in the world; I have been there in every month from April to October, and it’s always jammed with tourists. Maybe the Louvre is empty in January? I don’t know. But if I had to deal with masses of tourists from every corner of the globe, all day every day, I might get a little tired of tourists. I might need to get a job herding sheep—oh wait, that might be too much like dealing with tourists. Never mind.
Here’s the other thing, though: if a tourist comes away with any impression of the French people as a monolith, as in, ‘Oh, the French are not very nice,’ or ‘French people are thin,’ or ‘French people are sophisticated,’ or whatever stereotype that tourist has absorbed, perhaps they weren’t paying attention. France is incredibly diverse. There is no blanket statement, or national personality, or snap judgment that applies to the entire population—is there ever?
With two months in the country, we had time to really pay attention to that diversity. The food that is hip and cool and sophisticated in Paris is the food of immigrants, from Morocco and Lebanon and Senegal and Cambodia and Vietnam, all merging French ingredients and techniques with influences and flavors that expand traditions, rather than diminishing them. And it’s not just the food—neighborhoods, art, cultural customs, clothing: as far as I can tell, they all reflect the wide range of people who have moved to France over the centuries.
I had lots of other observations, mostly of a much lighter/more random nature, like the fact that people got confused if I used my index finger to indicate the number one (they use their thumb), and the fact that people actually do say ooh la la, a lot, but I never did understand the context (it didn’t seem to imply the mildly sexy/scandalous vibe I’ve always associated with the phrase). But I got distracted by friendliness and diversity, so I guess you’ll all have to go to France and make your own list of fun random observations.
I highly recommend doing so—the pastries alone are worth the trip.
In the meantime, I’ll be up here in Klaksvik, trying to figure out what makes the sheep tick. Because there are actually more sheep here than people.
Take care,
Lisa
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