moi parle jolie aujourd'hui

A friend of mine, and previous temporary resident of Paris, shared a link to This American Life : Americans In Paris. Surprisingly, it was an episode I hadn't heard before (I went through a pretty drawn out TAL phase during university) and when Ira Glass said David Sedaris was featured, I knew I had to drop everything and listen. I'm glad I did.

Part 1--"Him Talk Pretty Three Days"--is David's view of life in the French capital. David Sedaris is absolutely hilarious. I've loved his books and his previous features on This American Life. Somehow, I'd forgotten that he lived in Paris for a while. Please, go listen to it immediately if you have any curiosity about how I feel about living in Paris. Seriously, it's the truest account of life in Paris that I've come across, and about 85% of it is a dead on explanation of my experiences here.

moi mademoiselle's reflections on life in paris after hearing david sedaris's account

1.  If I smoked, I would most assuredly absolutely dread asking someone for fire on the occasion of my lighter running out of fluid. In fact, hearing David Sedaris detail this scenario is enough to keep me from ever trying a cigarette.

2.  I, too, frequent places where people don't mind my awful and broken French. Tonight, I went to dinner at a place I've been a good six or seven times now (Philippe's, or La Varangue). Philippe speaks English, but I ordered and spoke in French. As he ran my debit card, he asked me (in French) if I had been to the restaurant before; I replied (in French!) saying yes, 5 or 6 times. It really made my day that he realized I'd visited before.

3.  It takes so much less to make me happy in Paris than it does in the States. Honestly. It's a good day when I don't get chastised for my terrible French. It's a good day when I go shopping and find what I need. It's a good day when after struggling with my French the person with whom I'm speaking offers a sympathetic smile and uses Franglish or speaks more slowly. Heck, it's a good day when I can sit down on the metro.

4.  It makes me giggle when people guess at my nationality. I've gotten British (several times), Italian (what?!), and American.

5.  Thankfully, I have no issue eating alone in Paris. In fact, it's an experience I relish. Just me, un verre de vin, my Kindle...parfait. There are other things I won't do alone though...like going to certain travel destinations that pique my adrenaline-junkie interest for fear of getting hurt and having to go to a hospital and speak/gesture/make an idiot of myself in yet another language.

6.  I definitely judge other people doing stupid things and remember all of those instances and it makes me all the more self-conscious about my own behavior and French speaking abilities. Note: it hasn't really changed my behavior all that much.