What the French Get Right

I have no idea what the French do wrong. I’m sure it’s many things because they are people and people do many wrong things, whether individually or as a society. Of course, I’m no expert on France, which makes sense because I am not an expert on anything, but like anybody with an internet connection, my lack of expertise has not prevented me from expounding on all matters of which I know little, and my lack of expertise will not prevent me from doing the same regarding France. I have been here for several days, and will remain here for several weeks. As such, I cannot yet tell you what they do wrong, but I have a few ideas of what they do right.

First of all, they name their streets after playwrights and writers and intellectuals. Here in Bordeaux there’s Rue Moliere and Rue Montesquieu and Rue Francois-Muriac, among others. One wouldn’t expect to see Tennessee Williams Boulevard in Cleveland or Noam Chomsky Way in Milwaukee. Flannery O’Connor doesn’t even have her own street in her hometown of Savannah. In the States, we name our streets after trees and sometimes we throw Martin Luther King Jr. a bone, but only because we got guilted into it back in the 80’s.

My favorite coiffeur, which understands that sensuality is essential.

Street names don’t matter very much in national affairs, but they do speak to what a culture values. To bestow a name is to bestow an honor. It’s fine to honor slain police officers and fallen military heroes with highway interchanges, but it would also be nice to have a Toni Morrison Bridge or a Weird Al Yankovich Toll Plaza (not that we have many toll plazas left, but it seems like the sort of thing Al would enjoy).

We don’t venerate the American intellect. (“What American intellect?” I can hear you muttering.) In the States, the work of thought is diminished as elitist, out-of-touch, and even effete. Yet our politics is quick to seize upon philosophical ideas when they appear to confer legitimacy on a political program. How often did Paul Ryan reference Ayn Rand during his brief tenure as a person of consequence? How often did the American Right attempt to tie Barack Obama to the activist and author of Rules for Radicals, Saul Alinsky? Answer to both questions: often.

The French, apparently, still care about thought. Are they inherently more intellectual than Americans? I don’t believe so. But they seem to understand that a national culture rests as much on its art as it does its military. Charles du Gaulle is venerated, yes, but so is Renoir. And in much the same way.

Another thing they do right: everybody is constantly saying “bonjour” to each other. Yes, we greet each other in the States, too, but there’s a ritual and formality to the wishing of shopkeepers and maître d’s a good day before any business is conducted. To me, it’s a tiny way of acknowledging somebody else’s humanity before getting to the transaction at hand. Must life be as transactional as it is in the States? Must every interaction contain a nugget of “what can you do for me?” Maybe that capitalist esprit de corps is the same with the French, I don’t know, but that little “bonjour” suggests different.

Also, if you need your hair cut, you will not have to suffer very long in France. The French erect salons the way the Italians do cathedrals. There are coiffeurs everywhere, seemingly on every street corner. I cannot say that the French have better haircuts than Americans, but they certainly do not lack for eager scissor-wielders. I do not know how they all stay in business and perhaps they do not. Maybe one coiffeur shuts his doors only to be replaced by another the following day. Sadly, I got my own hair shorn just before leaving because I thought to myself, “Surely the French do not have any place in which I could get a haircut while I am there.” I was gravely mistaken.

Another thing I like so far about the French; their public transportation is magnifique. The TGV train we took from Paris to Bordeaux was comfortable and fairly priced. Here in town, we’ve been hopping on electric trams every day. They’re clean, run frequently, and cost about two euros. All that public transportation means the streets are blessedly uncrowded with automobile traffic. This reduces noise and pollution and makes the experience of being in a French city far more pleasant than being in, say, Los Angeles, where most of your waking hours are devoted to driving and parking, or complaining about driving and parking.

I’ve seen very few homeless people here. I don’t know whether that’s because they don’t exist or because they’re better taken care of, or because we’re just in the wrong part of town. Nobody has asked me for money except for one guy planted outside a church whose self-appointed role was to warn people not to trip over a very small piece of metal protruding from the grounds. At least that’s what I think he was doing. I actually have no idea, but I did not give him any money because I do not have any money. We have not used cash a single time since arriving in Europe. Maybe the beggar took Venmo. I don’t know.

Speaking of which, the “no tipping” thing is such a joy. Tipping culture has gotten out of control in the States, where we’re now offered the opportunity to give additional monies to nearly every retail worker. Why am I tipping the guy who fetched my scratchers? Why am I tipping the gal who rang up my burrito? Here in Europe, there’s none of that nonsense. They tell you the price and you pay the price. One doesn’t then have to pay a surcharge so that the underpaid worker can elevate their income to subsistence levels. I can’t say the restaurant prices are cheaper here than in the US but I feel like I’m getting a 20% discount on every meal because I don’t have to tip. Also, the waiters aren’t snooty the way I was told to expect which is a little disappointing. I would have preferred some snoot with my soup.

I’m not trying to romanticize the French. I don’t know enough about them to do so. But I think it’s fair to point out a few things they seem to be better doing than us, the greatest goddamned country on the face of the planet. I have often wondered why we feel the need to proclaim ourselves thus with such vigor while other nations retain a certain humility about their own lands. Maybe because they recognize that everybody does some things well and some things not-so-well and it would behoove everybody to learn from everybody else.