Update by Roland

Last week after visiting Toulouse, I decided to take the slow road back to Mirepoix, where we have been staying for three weeks, rather than the ‘autoroute’ which is direct, fast and doesn’t go through any populated areas.  I stopped in a cute village for lunch — at the traditional French time, 12:30 straight up — and I showed up just ahead of a gaggle of locals who knew each other.

The woman serving me was very nice, probably the owner.  (And old.  Remember when old people had jobs?)  I set up my computer as I ate at a corner table, watched people come and go as they greeted each other. When I saw the woman put up a high-chair at a table she was preparing I knew my lunch was going to be a rough ride, and I was right.

A family of five sat down near me and the seemed really peaceful until the little boy (maybe 4?) started running back and forth across the restaurant. I know what he was doing because I used to do that. He ran until he stopped, hurled himself into a sliding position, got up and did it again, about six times. The mother spoke with him calmly all of the time.

The infant, a white-haired cherub about 8 months(?) sitting in the high chair turned out to be a screamer. She (it?) didn’t really have a reason, just liked to scream whenever someone did or did not give something to her. Again, the parents were very calm. The little girl–the eldest–was the best behaved. I of course was disturbed by the screaming but nothing in this world is really unbearable other than torture and having a nasal infection when you’re on vacation, so i just looked over from time to time, couple of times made eye contact with the dad.

Meanwhile people came and went and greeted with each other, talked and it looked as if every single person in that place knew each other. Finally, at the end of their meal, the lady brought out a little cake with five candles in it and they started singling ‘Bonne Anniversaire‘ and I watched, expecting her to place it in front of the little boy, but instead she placed it in front of the man, who smiled sheepishly as his family then the rest of the people in the restaurant sang and at the end clapped. He blew out the candles and they ate their cake.

Later, I got up to leave, paid and exited the restaurant.  The father was standing outside smoking a cigarette. As I made eye contact with him, he mumbled something that sounded like “…sorry…lot of noise…” I paused, then smiled widely and said “Bonne Anniversaire, Monsieur!” and walked to the car and continued the journey back to Mirepoix.

France is a great place to raise children because the French indulge their children.  They are respected and allowed their few years of freedom.  Those same children will grow up to be solemn, well-educated, disciplined adults that make up most of the French population. In the mean time, the French allow their children their childhood.

A man I met who moved to France from England to run a business told me what happened one afternoon when the neighborhood was being disturbed by a rowdy group of drinking, smoking teenagers.  He approached them to ask them to pipe down, expecting to be cursed and spat upon.  Instead, they apologized and dispersed.

I am still startled when young people make eye contact and greet me in the street, “Bonjour, Monsieur.”  I turn around to see who they’re talking to.

One takeaway for me is that this generation of French children grow up to be adults and don’t extend their childhood indefinitely.  Where I come from, the lines between adult and child-like behavior are not always clear. Or maybe it’s simply the difference between behavior in the city and behavior in the country.   More on this topic later.

 

[A side note:  Polite comportment is the norm in France.  It has an effect on people like me, who prefer to joke with strangers, slap them on the back, raise my voice for emphasis, wave my hands wildly in a typical conversation, break into song,  and generally carry on with sloppiness snd freedom of expression.  I found myself tucking in my shirt the other day!  Since I never had children to indulge, I’ve indulged myself.  Now, maybe, I can finally fit in among the adults.]