I was in a fondue pop up Swiss Restaurant in a French Agriculture Exposition. And I felt judged. My French friend watched me as I dipped my bread into the fondue pot. I knew there was a comment to be made. Portions of bread were provided to be dipped in the cheese, and so I did. After some time, he said “no, cut it into small pieces, like this. That way you could cover every spot of the bread and have even more cheese with more little pieces of bread.” Ahh. This made more sense. I thought dipping the big piece of bread with the skewer looked awkward. I had only frequented The Melting Pot once, an American high end chain fondue restaurant. It actually is the only fondue restaurant I had ever visited. I was no pro at this, I admit.
But he kept watching me. I knew what it was. When I rolled my cheese in the fondue, there was so much excess string I pulled the string piece out of the pot with my fingers. I made sure it didn’t touch the pot. Was he worried about my germs? “See I’m not touching the other cheese, I’m pulling it out,” I said to his perplexed face. “No, like this,” he said. “You must be patient, as you roll it. Just wait.” I had noted my poor fondue skills, as I had been pulling the cheesy bread out of the pot too quickly. The string would then come with it, versus letting it linger and eventually harden to the bread before bringing it to my plate. I realized I would have to learn to soften my American ways during this year in Paris, in more areas than just fondue etiquette. Most likely this virtue would serve as my mantra for the months to come: patience.
I had quit my job two months prior, and felt I needed to already be a success in this new world I was venturing into of being an entrepreneur and author. I wanted to see results fast and damn was I struggling, like that piece of melted cheese. I seemed to forget why I had moved here. I moved here to write my book, spend more time with my aging dogs, learn French, and make new friends. In my previous job, the last several years my life consisted solely of work, and a minimal social life. Here, I had the opposite schedule. My days were filled with French classes, trips to art museums, and friendship outings, but I feel I am not being productive enough. I was judging myself because I had yet to be a signed author.
But everything takes time. And who is to say I am not successful in living the life I am living right now? It is a dream for many Americans to vacation here, let alone live here. Wasn’t the life I am living successful because I am doing what I set out to and enjoying it along the way? Tim Ferriss encourages us to have multiple mini retirements throughout our life, not just one big retirement. Perhaps I can learn to live into this during the year, minus the guilt of productivity.
So this year, as I learn the practice of undoing the busy, I will also begin to embrace the acts of pleasure and patience. Maybe this is what Paris is meant to teach me, and to eat from a fondue properly.
“When good Americans die, they go to Paris.”-Oscar Wilde
It Only Takes A Smile 