Читать книгу Our House is Certainly Not in Paris - Susan Cutsforth - Страница 21

After spending several summers in France, we remain conscious of French protocol and alert to the nuances between the two cultures. We are proud of the fact that in our small village, it was us who introduced Gérard and Dominique to Jean-Claude and Françoise. We noted however, with great interest that whenever we were with Gérard and Dominique, and Jean-Claude and Françoise came up in the conversation, they referred to them as Monsieur and Madame Chanel. With our casual Australian manners and easygoing ways, this formality is a revelation to us. However, we have learnt that this formality is deeply entrenched, particularly with older generations. They can in fact, know someone for thirty years and this form of address is still used. So, in Cuzance when we go for a walk round the village with Jean-Claude, we note too that he always greets the older inhabitants, such as Monsieur Dal, in a formal manner. In fact, I have also noticed that he always refers formally to our neighbours as Monsieur Chanteur and Madame Chanteur. When I think about it, I don’t even know our neighbours’ first names; perhaps I never will. Status too remains an important element in French life and it is still often the way, that the higher the person’s status, the more reserved their behaviour is. Again though, it is mainly the older generations, and I’m sure one day, this element too will fade way.

What we have come to love, is the many elements of French protocol, such as when you are entering and leaving a shop. It is customary to always offer a greeting, ‘Bonjour Madame, bonjour Monsieur,’ and on departure, ‘Au revoir, bonne journee,’ – goodbye, have a nice day. I always find joy in the rhythm of these exchanges. If you don’t offer a greeting, the French will simply think you are very rude – the service is usually in direct proportion to your politeness. Everyone appreciates any effort that you are able to make with the language and so, I always try to do my very best. Just like when I lived in Turkey, the very basic words go a long way – merci, merci beaucoup, excusez moi. I have learnt too, that even if they understand English, the French may be wary of speaking it, unless they’re fluent. In all respects, the French do not like to appear less than perfect. It is hard when we return home, not to continue the daily greeting, for after a few months, it is second nature. Likewise, I try not to kiss too many of my colleagues too often on both cheeks, though I must say by now, people seem to have become used to my adopted French ways. I frequently answer the phone at work with a bright, ‘Bonjour’! In France, it is in fact the custom to greet all your colleagues each day with a kiss on each cheek.

Somehow, I don’t think I will attempt to introduce that element into the workplace.

I look around, watch, and try to learn all the time. The French are always quite formal when they leave their homes. Even a trip to the weekly markets means that you would never dream of going out in what you wear at home; certainly there are no thongs or singlet tops in sight. When we stayed with Brigitte and Erick in their chambre d’hôte, I always noted that after they finished cleaning the chambres each morning and had done the daily washing of all the chambre d’hôte sheets, they would both change to venture out to the boulangerie and supermarché. They would always put on something smart. This too is a custom I am conscious of, apart that is, from the humiliating times I have dashed on an urgent mission through the village to Jean-Claude’s in my renovating attire. Being conservative and smartly dressed is just another way of trying to fit into French life. It is something I have come to love, for all who know me, are familiar with my penchant for dressing up whenever possible.

Likewise, relaxing in a café can be altogether different. No matter how frantically busy or overflowing the tables are, there is always just a quiet hum of conversation. The tone is always muted, never loud. While drinking is a recognised French way of life, no one shouts or loudly laughs their heads off and the ring of a portable or a noisy child is seldom heard. It is not chic to behave in such a way. On the rare occasions we have lunch at our favourite restaurant in Martel, Le Jardin des Saveurs, although it is just menu du jour, the bread crumbs are swept off the crisp tablecloth after the first course. The waitress comes with a petite pan and brush to ever so discreetly whisk the crumbs away.

This is the sort of attention to detail that I simply love.

When we are invited to dîner with friends, no side plates are used for the bread that invariably accompanies every meal. If we are lucky enough to be invited to Jean-Claude’s and Françoise’s, the pain is especially delicious as Françoise makes her own bread. The pain is simply placed on the tablecloth next to your dinner plate. Hence all French homes have a tablecloth that often stays on the table throughout the day. While I now have two tablecloths, both farmhouse checks, and both gifts, I don’t think I will ever have a plastic one as many French households do. While very practical, I simply don’t find them attractive at all.

The apéritif hour is something else I find especially civilised. Only one apéritif is usually served, at the very most two. Bread sticks or a small dish of olives or peanuts is always placed on the table, for it is rare to have a drink without some small accompaniment. We find this a great way to catch up with friends, as it is simply so easy and the protocol means that people rarely linger longer than an hour, for they then head home for dîner. This suits our style of entertaining just perfectly. When we are invited to dîner, usually just one apéritif is offered before eating, as there will be wine with the meal. Jean-Claude has a plastic carrier that was once used for milk bottles. When we have an apéritif on their terrace, he brings it out with pastis, gin and other choices in it. Despite the reputation of the French for drinking vast quantities of wine, in fact it is surprisingly far less than at home. Vive la difference.