Few notes on France.

Still rather depressed since returning from my trip—that explains the slow updating to blog and Flickr. A friend asked if I'm on Hulu Plus. Haha, no. I'm behind on "Community" and wasting my money on Netflix instead. I'm still holding discs from before my trip, including DVDs borrowed from friends, and have a few movies on a flash drive... somewhere... that I need to screen and screencap for my side project.

Some people have asked though, "How was Paris? What did you see? Did you eat a lot? Were the people rude?" All things I am meaning to address here on the Empirical. I have a free moment now though, so here are just a few stray observations to get us started...

1. First and foremost, no, the people are not rude. This is what every American expects of the French, but it's completely wrong. I even thought to downplay my American-ness, but everyone that asked was very excited when I told them I'm from California. More so if I mentioned that I work in Los Angeles. Everywhere, I encountered only very sweet, respectful and helpful people. They politely switch to English when they realize I'm not a local, then apologize that their English is not strong—even if it is! I'd be sitting there, embarrassed, for not knowing much French, but they'd be the ones apologizing if I didn't immediately understand what was being said.

We started off with a lot of good luck on the Metro system, followed by a brief window of very bad luck. At one point, my metro ticket wasn't being recognized by the automatic readers at one of the turnstiles. A young French man, upon seeing the exasperation on my face (understandable in any language), offered in French, to scan me through then walk very close behind me through the turnstile together. For the record, the closest anyone got to my lower regions—and yes, a lot of you have asked because you crave these puerile details.

The little things really impressed me. The patience they show for one another. For the elderly. The courtesy. Saying hello, goodbye, thank you, excuse me, you're welcome, etc. That's a lot to ask in Southern California. Upon my return I was walking around one evening and someone honked their horn at me when I didn't cross in the crosswalk fast enough. Presumably a neighbor as I was just a block away from home. That's how we treat each other here, but nothing even close to that in France. Even when I was completely turned around and lost.

2. The people in Paris proper are beautiful on the outside as well. Yowza! How can everyone be so good looking? In my observation, two reasons. First, they care enough to wear something nicer than a giveaway tshirt, shorts and slippers. Nobody is running down to the marche wearing pajama bottoms. The children are especially well-dressed; it's taught early on. Honestly, everyone wore sort of the same outfit, but the trick is to put your own spin on it. I wasn't wearing the French uniform, but it actually worked in my favor. People were interested in my very non-Parisian outfits and hairstyle and face. "I'm hot in Paris," was a weird thing to realize as my plain looks are not considered hot anywhere else in the universe. Secondly, I think there is an appreciation for unique faces. People in the States all strive for the same look and body. In France, differences are appreciated. You'd see a girl on the subway and think she was gorgeous. See the same girl in Hollywood, and she'd be criticized for her biggish nose. Or she wouldn't because she'd have had it "fixed" by now. The men are all handsome. I even noted it in a postcard to a single friend—"Move your butt to France now."

3. I mentioned in an earlier blog post, the leisurely attitude toward life. Okay, some were probably tourists like me. Yes, I saw a lot of people rushing home at the end of the day. Scurrying to pick up items at the market. Yet at all hours, I'd see people sitting in a plaza with a bottle of wine or at cafes, reading a paper sometimes, but often just staring off into the distance and smoking a cigarette alone. Sipping a beer, a wine, an espresso... What the hell? Do they not have jobs? When on earth would an American have time to do such a thing on a weekday? Perhaps the unemployed American, underemployed, self-employed, but wouldn't find that relaxing. They'd be worrying about getting paid. Lot of Americans are not comfortable sitting at a restaurant alone either. Not me, but others. I was very puzzled by this. Still am. It sounds nice, and looked nice, but I think I'd stress over not being at a desk and being productive even if my job was stupid and boring as shit.

So I'll leave you with these things to ponder for now. And a statement I've been making since before my French debut, "The French. They're like us, they're just better at it."