As I complete my second week of being a Parisian, it’s been a week of faux pas.
A friend of a friend took me to a typical French restaurant today. On the menu was heavy French cuisine such as escargot, foie gras, and rabbit. I opted for a croque monsieur served with truffles. It was delicious and I paired it with a glass of local red wine. We opted for a café afterwards. He had an espresso, I wanted a cappuccino and asked the waitress if they had soy milk. She looked at me confused, and I said a regular cappuccino is fine. My new friend began to laugh at me, saying “they serve rabbit here, I don’t think they will have soy milk.”
And this is just one example of learning the culture here.
Earlier in the week, I popped into a small grocery store. I had several items in my hand, and placed them down. The clerk asked in French for “sac” =a bag. I said “no” I didn’t need one, and pointed to my bag. I didn’t speak French, she didn’t speak English. She then said a word I recognized “regarder”, which means “to look,” and asked to see inside my bag. I had two items purchased from a previous store. Then she tried to scan it. Since I don’t know French, I said in English. “No! I bought that from another store. No!” She didn’t understand me. And the items didn’t seem to scan. Then she looked in my other bag with my laptop and purse. I believe she thought I may be stealing. Then she said simply “desolee”, which means sorry. I was embarrassed and stunned. *Tip: keep all receipts or only shop at one market at a time.
The most interesting faux pas occurred in my home. I was making cous cous, purchased from the market above. Yet, when I began to turn on the kettle, I saw it was broken. This is probably because my kitchen is so small, and I have to put the kettle away every time for counter space. It simply fell apart. As I tried to put the kettle together, I electrocuted myself. Maybe I am not meant to cook in tiny spaces.
The evening ended today, with my new French friend sending me several store suggestions of where I can most likely find gluten free bread and pasta, but left me with a warning: “Don’t eat too healthy, you’re French now.”
C’est la vie.
I am slowly am beginning my welcome to France.
It Only Takes A Smile 