Americana a la francaise
Nov 5th, 2004 | 12:58 PM
#1
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
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Americana a la francaise
Hi everyone! I've been reading on this board for a long time...GREAT TIPS and stories...especially your's PLMN 
We're getting ready to go to Rome to visit friends, and then go back to where we lived in France to visit friends. I'm reminiscing about our life abroad now....
There's a thread now where people discuss wanted to live abroad, but it's getting political, so I'm posting my humorous (hopefully!) experience with dealing with homesickness abroad.
AMERICANA A LA FRANCAISE
I think everyone has dreamed of dropping their present life and moving to a far-off land to start a new one; a life that would invoke exotic adventures, packed full of so much excitement we would never be bored again
That is what my husband and I did. One night after discussing the woes of living in our miserable, monotonous small town, we dreamed up an eccentric plan. Our brainchild was to move across the globe to be alien residents in a foreign land, so to speak, and live out our fantasies of leaving our home town far behind. Not realizing that within the year, our wildest dream would come true.
After much planning and a few miracles we, along with our four year old daughter, jetted off to our new home in the south of France, the beautiful city of Toulouse. We were to live in a tiny, but furnished flat to live for several months. We already had some family who lived there, but we had high hopes for making new relationships with future friends. We wanted to eat, live and breathe like the French. We wanted to strip ourselves of our telltale American ways and blend in so perfectly that we would be mistaken for a native. Was this possible? Yes! Because we had the hunger!
After we were there only a few days, we began to feel as if this was our home we never knew existed before. We didn?t feel we had to try hard to fit in, my husband even told jokes in French by using his pocket dictionary. He got lots of laughs, and we were determined to believe that they were because his jokes were funny, not just a lame attempt at speaking a language he didn?t know. We wrote to everyone we knew back home, raving about this place, our new life. How exciting every little tiny thing was to us, down to the cute packages of sugar and chocolate that came with every cup of coffee. We were in our destined place! We soon started to scheme about how to get jobs and raise our kids here?..
However, I must admit, once in a while, the homesickness reared its ugly head, and we longed for a slice of the familiar. Though we loved France, it seemed that everything was just, to put it bluntly, so French! Once we tried to satisfy that bug by going to Les Golden Arches, and braving Mad Cow disease to get some Americana . After all, what is more American than a Big Mac? To no avail, however, since it was still an experience française. We had to order our burgers with a faux French accent to be understood: Sheez-boor-gehr, see voo play.
Another time we decided to go to a movie at the local cinema which was playing in English. We sat for two hours immersed in 1940?s Americana, every single word in English. What relief! When it ended, forgetting we were still in a foreign country, we walked out the door of the cinema into the blinding sun?into France. We had instant culture shock, as if we?d just step through a portal into a hostile territory. After we stood there a few moments, listen to the foreign chatter of people eating lunch, and hearing the strange sirens and motor noises, we realized we had been living in this country for months now. This was our reality. We loved it, but it was marred by a feeling of wanting familiarity so badly. What exactly did we need that we didn?t know how to satisfy?
As July approached, we heard rumors that the famous bicycle race, the Tour de France, would pass nearby. The only thing we knew about this sport came from our own experience of purchasing mountain bikes and letting them sit in our garage. Could a Texan on a two wheeler satisfy our temporary hunger for the homeland? We decided to give Lance Armstrong a chance.
My expatriate uncle came to our little flat to pick us up and drive us into the country, along part of the route the cyclists would soon follow. Race enthusiasts lined the narrow country road, with signs touting the name of their favorite contestant. But not one sign had the name of our American racer.
As my uncle navigated the twisty road, we pondered how to let Lance know that people from the United States had traveled to this remote corner of the world, ready to brave hostile hordes and shout encouragement? in English of course!
After brainstorming rhymes reminiscent of Dr.Seuss, we decided on ?Go Lance, Dance on France!? Swelling with pride, we nailed an old sheet to two sticks, and making it official, sprayed on our clever jingle with some black La Krylon. Surely the cameramen in the helicopters overhead would notice it, zoom in, and voila! The world?s spotlights would shine on us! Our fans Stateside (aka: our family) would turn on ESPN, seeing the birds? eye view of the crowd, spot our sign and scream ?There they are!?
In the petit village of Caraman, where the Tour would be passing through, we secured a spot on the sidelines on an incline so that the bikes would be going more slowly for our video camera to better capture Lance?s delighted expression when he saw us. There my husband and uncle unrolled the sign for the world to see. Well, at least for the whole village to see. As our proud statement unfurled, the crowd?s shock made me understand, that for these villagers, we had unveiled a monstrosity. Our grand plan for a global début as Lance supporters now threatened to initiate an international incident. A definite faux pas, at the least. Without delay, my native French aunt and I defected to the other side of the street - unfortunately no wider than a Peugeot ? pretending not to know the Yankee invaders.
At our horror, an old timer approached and challenged our guys with a French expletive, but they only raised the banner higher. Would Lance appreciate the courage (or audacity) of his supporters? Surely, on seeing our slogan, he would wink at us, and propelled by the energy of we who?d come so far to cheer him, he would surge ahead of the pack, and on to victory!
Having taken up positions, we waited anxiously for the racers to appear. A publicity caravan preceded the event. What a parade! Smiling hostesses rode loud, honking sponsor vehicles crafted like wheels of cheese, watches and little red sausages. This advertising convoy chucked promotional items to the waiting crowd. Yes, they actually hurled watches, cheese and sausages at us! Logo-laden knapsacks, hats, and notepads rained down from the motorcade. Surprised by the deluge, we didn?t get much loot, since our first reflex was to dodge! (Had Americans become targets, we wondered?) Finally, my husband did catch a bright pink CD holder, but not on purpose, and not with his hands, which were busy holding high our homespun banner. Remember I said we had ?breathtaking? experiences? That certainly took his breath away. And he didn?t even manage to keep the offending projectile as compensation. Nope, while distracted by the agonizing assault on his manhood, he couldn?t prevent a Frenchman from snagging the coveted prize.
After an hour evading stinky cheese missiles, and combating irate villagers, we finally spotted the cyclists coming up the road! We strained to glimpse that famous yellow jersey, anticipating Lance?s reaction on seeing his friends from the States.
Coming closer! The tight-packed group peddled on. A rainbow of colors blurred before us. Where was the yellow? There! There! Speeding past us, going, going, gone! I had caught a glimpse of yellow. We knew it was him, but to our disappointment, he did not notice our sign. He couldn?t see how much we wanted him to dance on France. All those hours of anticipation, all our creative energies composing this welcome banner for him, ?..and he didn?t even notice us, what a letdown!
But then we saw it. Standing in the road dismayed in the wake of the frenzy, with only our tattered dreams and war-torn sign, we saw it winding slowly up the road. It gave us a friendly honk, and its passengers gave the thumbs-up. They?d seen our sign, understood what we needed. Yes! It was the United States Postal Service Team car!
We had begun to feel out of place, homesick, and it began to make us look at France and its ways negatively. We were downbeat because we stopped seeing the country in the eyes of a tourist, and it started to feel monotonous. Which was similar to the way we viewed home before we decided to begin this adventure.
After getting even more immersed into French culture that day at the Tour, we had a renewed excitement of our new homeland. This was the once-in-a-lifetime experience that we dreamed of, planned for, and it wasn?t over yet!
Later, back in our little flat in Toulouse, we had a feeling of wellbeing, simply because something almost insignificant ? just a familiar logo on the side of a car ?was here with us on the other side of the globe. Our homesickness vanished and we realized that we had gotten what we desired. We felt so happy to be there and we could mentally return to our New Life in the Old World that we loved so much. Our life of crusty breads, superb wine, and all-things-French. Including the Beeg Macs.
We're getting ready to go to Rome to visit friends, and then go back to where we lived in France to visit friends. I'm reminiscing about our life abroad now....
There's a thread now where people discuss wanted to live abroad, but it's getting political, so I'm posting my humorous (hopefully!) experience with dealing with homesickness abroad.
AMERICANA A LA FRANCAISE
I think everyone has dreamed of dropping their present life and moving to a far-off land to start a new one; a life that would invoke exotic adventures, packed full of so much excitement we would never be bored again
That is what my husband and I did. One night after discussing the woes of living in our miserable, monotonous small town, we dreamed up an eccentric plan. Our brainchild was to move across the globe to be alien residents in a foreign land, so to speak, and live out our fantasies of leaving our home town far behind. Not realizing that within the year, our wildest dream would come true.
After much planning and a few miracles we, along with our four year old daughter, jetted off to our new home in the south of France, the beautiful city of Toulouse. We were to live in a tiny, but furnished flat to live for several months. We already had some family who lived there, but we had high hopes for making new relationships with future friends. We wanted to eat, live and breathe like the French. We wanted to strip ourselves of our telltale American ways and blend in so perfectly that we would be mistaken for a native. Was this possible? Yes! Because we had the hunger!
After we were there only a few days, we began to feel as if this was our home we never knew existed before. We didn?t feel we had to try hard to fit in, my husband even told jokes in French by using his pocket dictionary. He got lots of laughs, and we were determined to believe that they were because his jokes were funny, not just a lame attempt at speaking a language he didn?t know. We wrote to everyone we knew back home, raving about this place, our new life. How exciting every little tiny thing was to us, down to the cute packages of sugar and chocolate that came with every cup of coffee. We were in our destined place! We soon started to scheme about how to get jobs and raise our kids here?..
However, I must admit, once in a while, the homesickness reared its ugly head, and we longed for a slice of the familiar. Though we loved France, it seemed that everything was just, to put it bluntly, so French! Once we tried to satisfy that bug by going to Les Golden Arches, and braving Mad Cow disease to get some Americana . After all, what is more American than a Big Mac? To no avail, however, since it was still an experience française. We had to order our burgers with a faux French accent to be understood: Sheez-boor-gehr, see voo play.
Another time we decided to go to a movie at the local cinema which was playing in English. We sat for two hours immersed in 1940?s Americana, every single word in English. What relief! When it ended, forgetting we were still in a foreign country, we walked out the door of the cinema into the blinding sun?into France. We had instant culture shock, as if we?d just step through a portal into a hostile territory. After we stood there a few moments, listen to the foreign chatter of people eating lunch, and hearing the strange sirens and motor noises, we realized we had been living in this country for months now. This was our reality. We loved it, but it was marred by a feeling of wanting familiarity so badly. What exactly did we need that we didn?t know how to satisfy?
As July approached, we heard rumors that the famous bicycle race, the Tour de France, would pass nearby. The only thing we knew about this sport came from our own experience of purchasing mountain bikes and letting them sit in our garage. Could a Texan on a two wheeler satisfy our temporary hunger for the homeland? We decided to give Lance Armstrong a chance.
My expatriate uncle came to our little flat to pick us up and drive us into the country, along part of the route the cyclists would soon follow. Race enthusiasts lined the narrow country road, with signs touting the name of their favorite contestant. But not one sign had the name of our American racer.
As my uncle navigated the twisty road, we pondered how to let Lance know that people from the United States had traveled to this remote corner of the world, ready to brave hostile hordes and shout encouragement? in English of course!
After brainstorming rhymes reminiscent of Dr.Seuss, we decided on ?Go Lance, Dance on France!? Swelling with pride, we nailed an old sheet to two sticks, and making it official, sprayed on our clever jingle with some black La Krylon. Surely the cameramen in the helicopters overhead would notice it, zoom in, and voila! The world?s spotlights would shine on us! Our fans Stateside (aka: our family) would turn on ESPN, seeing the birds? eye view of the crowd, spot our sign and scream ?There they are!?
In the petit village of Caraman, where the Tour would be passing through, we secured a spot on the sidelines on an incline so that the bikes would be going more slowly for our video camera to better capture Lance?s delighted expression when he saw us. There my husband and uncle unrolled the sign for the world to see. Well, at least for the whole village to see. As our proud statement unfurled, the crowd?s shock made me understand, that for these villagers, we had unveiled a monstrosity. Our grand plan for a global début as Lance supporters now threatened to initiate an international incident. A definite faux pas, at the least. Without delay, my native French aunt and I defected to the other side of the street - unfortunately no wider than a Peugeot ? pretending not to know the Yankee invaders.
At our horror, an old timer approached and challenged our guys with a French expletive, but they only raised the banner higher. Would Lance appreciate the courage (or audacity) of his supporters? Surely, on seeing our slogan, he would wink at us, and propelled by the energy of we who?d come so far to cheer him, he would surge ahead of the pack, and on to victory!
Having taken up positions, we waited anxiously for the racers to appear. A publicity caravan preceded the event. What a parade! Smiling hostesses rode loud, honking sponsor vehicles crafted like wheels of cheese, watches and little red sausages. This advertising convoy chucked promotional items to the waiting crowd. Yes, they actually hurled watches, cheese and sausages at us! Logo-laden knapsacks, hats, and notepads rained down from the motorcade. Surprised by the deluge, we didn?t get much loot, since our first reflex was to dodge! (Had Americans become targets, we wondered?) Finally, my husband did catch a bright pink CD holder, but not on purpose, and not with his hands, which were busy holding high our homespun banner. Remember I said we had ?breathtaking? experiences? That certainly took his breath away. And he didn?t even manage to keep the offending projectile as compensation. Nope, while distracted by the agonizing assault on his manhood, he couldn?t prevent a Frenchman from snagging the coveted prize.
After an hour evading stinky cheese missiles, and combating irate villagers, we finally spotted the cyclists coming up the road! We strained to glimpse that famous yellow jersey, anticipating Lance?s reaction on seeing his friends from the States.
Coming closer! The tight-packed group peddled on. A rainbow of colors blurred before us. Where was the yellow? There! There! Speeding past us, going, going, gone! I had caught a glimpse of yellow. We knew it was him, but to our disappointment, he did not notice our sign. He couldn?t see how much we wanted him to dance on France. All those hours of anticipation, all our creative energies composing this welcome banner for him, ?..and he didn?t even notice us, what a letdown!
But then we saw it. Standing in the road dismayed in the wake of the frenzy, with only our tattered dreams and war-torn sign, we saw it winding slowly up the road. It gave us a friendly honk, and its passengers gave the thumbs-up. They?d seen our sign, understood what we needed. Yes! It was the United States Postal Service Team car!
We had begun to feel out of place, homesick, and it began to make us look at France and its ways negatively. We were downbeat because we stopped seeing the country in the eyes of a tourist, and it started to feel monotonous. Which was similar to the way we viewed home before we decided to begin this adventure.
After getting even more immersed into French culture that day at the Tour, we had a renewed excitement of our new homeland. This was the once-in-a-lifetime experience that we dreamed of, planned for, and it wasn?t over yet!
Later, back in our little flat in Toulouse, we had a feeling of wellbeing, simply because something almost insignificant ? just a familiar logo on the side of a car ?was here with us on the other side of the globe. Our homesickness vanished and we realized that we had gotten what we desired. We felt so happy to be there and we could mentally return to our New Life in the Old World that we loved so much. Our life of crusty breads, superb wine, and all-things-French. Including the Beeg Macs.
Nov 5th, 2004 | 01:09 PM
#2
Joined: Apr 2004
Posts: 3,500
Likes: 0
Thanks for the account, I enjoyed it a lot! I'd love to see the Tour at some point, I'm a huge cycling fan.
I have to agree with you...the "Dance on France" banner does seem in bad taste. Happy nothing really confrontational happened. Much as I love my country, I do wonder what would happen to a Frenchman if he were to hold up such a banner over here. I fear we would not be as tolerant as they were. I have a bad feeling some redneck guy would pick a real fight
I have to agree with you...the "Dance on France" banner does seem in bad taste. Happy nothing really confrontational happened. Much as I love my country, I do wonder what would happen to a Frenchman if he were to hold up such a banner over here. I fear we would not be as tolerant as they were. I have a bad feeling some redneck guy would pick a real fight
Nov 5th, 2004 | 01:14 PM
#3
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
Likes: 0
YIKES! What's the deal with all the question marks???
Ok..here is a link to read it off the internet:
http://www.storyhouse.org/jamieh.html
Ok..here is a link to read it off the internet:
http://www.storyhouse.org/jamieh.html
Nov 5th, 2004 | 01:18 PM
#5
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
Likes: 0
Author: cigalechanta
Message: Beautifully told! Thanks.
THANK YOU! (blushing)
Thanks for your complement also, Texas. The tour was FUN...I recommend it highly. We were in a tiny village and I think that made it more personal....like we were actually a part of it!
Message: Beautifully told! Thanks.
THANK YOU! (blushing)
Thanks for your complement also, Texas. The tour was FUN...I recommend it highly. We were in a tiny village and I think that made it more personal....like we were actually a part of it!
Nov 5th, 2004 | 01:37 PM
#6
Joined: Apr 2003
Posts: 17,268
Likes: 0
Is this a troll?
Could any sentient being - other than a British soccer hooligan (who hardly qualifies as a human being) - be so completely insensitive as to wave a sign as crass as that in their host country?
If it's not a troll, the sooner that Yankee goes home, the better.
Could any sentient being - other than a British soccer hooligan (who hardly qualifies as a human being) - be so completely insensitive as to wave a sign as crass as that in their host country?
If it's not a troll, the sooner that Yankee goes home, the better.
Nov 5th, 2004 | 01:45 PM
#7
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
Likes: 0
Are you asking if I am a troll? ha...hardly.
If you don't get the humor of the story, and the point of the banner...whatever.
I hardly think that touting a banner of a contestant is in bad taste. We are adventurous, fun people who did this along with my FRENCH relatives.
"Dance on France" meant "Kick butt on the roads of France and win!"
Wow, why am I getting so defensive? Oh yeah, I hate being called a troll.
If you don't get the humor of the story, and the point of the banner...whatever.
I hardly think that touting a banner of a contestant is in bad taste. We are adventurous, fun people who did this along with my FRENCH relatives.
"Dance on France" meant "Kick butt on the roads of France and win!"
Wow, why am I getting so defensive? Oh yeah, I hate being called a troll.
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Nov 5th, 2004 | 02:53 PM
#8
Joined: Nov 2003
Posts: 1,470
Likes: 0
I think this was a wonderful story,I enjoyed every minute of it. Whether it is in poor taste or not to have a Dance on France banner,I couldn't care less.
There are some wonderful folks on this message board,but then there are some tiresome know- it- alls.
There are some wonderful folks on this message board,but then there are some tiresome know- it- alls.
Nov 5th, 2004 | 03:31 PM
#9
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 43,742
Likes: 4
Toulousaine, we got you. There's an ill wind blowing on the forums today at fodors. People who previously liked eachother are fighting. Is this what we want? Is this the result of an election? The full moon is gone. Peace, Please.
Nov 5th, 2004 | 04:25 PM
#10
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 34,738
Likes: 0
Toulousaine! I have read this already 
! How cool and what fun!
http://www.epinions.com/content_3729367172
You are famous
! How cool and what fun!http://www.epinions.com/content_3729367172
You are famous
Nov 5th, 2004 | 05:53 PM
#11
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
Likes: 0
HEY! I can't believe you already read it! haha! 
Very cool.
Did you notice I added to it? I had to, to submit it for a writing contest on the storyhouse website. So, it's a bit different on epinions.
Thanks, you guys, for getting my point. You're right cigale...the hostility on here today is amazing. After 5 years on the internet, today was the first day I got called a troll
Have a great evening you guys!!!
Very cool. Did you notice I added to it? I had to, to submit it for a writing contest on the storyhouse website. So, it's a bit different on epinions.
Thanks, you guys, for getting my point. You're right cigale...the hostility on here today is amazing. After 5 years on the internet, today was the first day I got called a troll
Have a great evening you guys!!!
Nov 5th, 2004 | 06:16 PM
#12
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 43,742
Likes: 4
touousaine, in my four years here I was accused of trying to tout a rental in the Dordodgne of a woman poster who dislikes me, of promoting a Provence hotel that is an incredible place as of situation and views and more.
So a troll is not bad
So a troll is not bad
Nov 7th, 2004 | 01:58 PM
#16
Joined: Mar 2003
Posts: 427
Likes: 0
I read the article this AM off the other thread link that you posted in. I always enjoy reading such articles - do you have anything else to share? Why did you leave a month early? Have you published any other antidotes from your year in France? Would love to read them as I am sure others would as well.
Nov 7th, 2004 | 08:19 PM
#18
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2004
Posts: 105
Likes: 0
kismetchimera and 4totravel,
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have been working on some other stories, but since I have two little ones, I sometimes lose my steam and ideas.
However, you have inspired me....thanks so much. I needed that.
We left a month early because we decided to have another baby (our second) and then I realized that I was pregnant. I didn't feel great, and knew we needed to get back and 'settled'.
I am so happy we did, seeing as I would have been 'trapped' over there during the 9/11 tragedy. I would never have stepped foot back onto a plane anytime soon. Then, a week and a half later, a chemical plant in Toulouse exploded, causing extensive damage, injuries and death. I would have been in complete hysterics by that time....and pregnancy would have made it worse.
This March will be our first time back to Europe since we left...I'm finally ready.
I really have wanted to write about our follies in a spur of the moment trip to Italy that summer...I actually did slip on spilled olive oil, trying to leap the puddle, and threw out my back. Maybe I could develop a story around this?
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have been working on some other stories, but since I have two little ones, I sometimes lose my steam and ideas.
However, you have inspired me....thanks so much. I needed that.
We left a month early because we decided to have another baby (our second) and then I realized that I was pregnant. I didn't feel great, and knew we needed to get back and 'settled'.
I am so happy we did, seeing as I would have been 'trapped' over there during the 9/11 tragedy. I would never have stepped foot back onto a plane anytime soon. Then, a week and a half later, a chemical plant in Toulouse exploded, causing extensive damage, injuries and death. I would have been in complete hysterics by that time....and pregnancy would have made it worse.
This March will be our first time back to Europe since we left...I'm finally ready.
I really have wanted to write about our follies in a spur of the moment trip to Italy that summer...I actually did slip on spilled olive oil, trying to leap the puddle, and threw out my back. Maybe I could develop a story around this?
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