For the first time in a year and a half we're back in Michigan for a short holiday. I'm going through the usual bout of reverse culture shock, but a conversation I had yesterday pretty neatly sums up the whole thing.
First, I'll relay two conversations I had recently in France with colleagues. Before I begin, some vocabulary: the French word for athletic shoes is baskets. As in basket the sport, known to us as "basketball". If you think it's funny to use a single sport to globally identify all athletic shoes, I remind you that we call ours "tennis shoes", and how many of them are used for tennis?
A Conversation I'd Never Have in Michigan #1
This in English, with a very patient, sober colleague who says he prefers to speak English with me to improve his language skills.
Me: Hey, what happened to the hood of your car?
Luc (pronounced like Skywalker, if you're wondering): Oh, I was at my parents' apartment near the shore and a man put a basket on it.
Me: A man scratched your car with a shoe?
Luc: No. A basket. You know...the thing you put laundry in?
Me: Oh, a basket. My mistake. How could a basket make so much damage?
Luc: Well, he thought I parked too close to his car, so he put his basket on my hood and scratched it on purpose.
Me: What was in basket? Not laundry, I guess?
Luc: Oh no. Shellfish. Oysters, mussels. You know.
Me: Oysters and mussels. I see. Your car was damaged by shellfish. Hm.
A Conversation I'd Never Have in Michigan #2
Eric: I went to Leon last night.
Francois: I'm not a fan of Leon. Their mussels aren't very good.
Eric: You aren't going in the right season.
Francois: And when is the right season?
Eric: The summer.
Me: I thought it was the fall.
Francois: No, you're thinking of scallops in the fall.
Eric: Oysters in the winter.
A Conversation I'd Never Have in France:
Kroger Fish Guy: Can I help you?
David: She's looking for sea bass.
KFG: Um...I have lake bass.
Me: That will do. I'll take four of these. Will you filet them for me?
KFG: They're already fileted.
Me: I mean, will you take the skin off?
KFG: Um...I'll get someone who can.
The Fish Guy comes back with Kroger Fish Guy #2, who is not a wizened, grisly fisherman-looking type but another young man wearing a Kroger cap slightly askew.
KFG2: Those fish are already prepared. Scales and bones removed, everything.
Me: Yes, but I'd like the skin off, please.
KFG2: Oh..I don't know about that. They're pretty thin. I've never skinned a filet so thin. I don't know if it's possible.
Me: It's possible.
KFG2: Well...
Me: It's possible.
He walks off and returns with a knife far too long and inflexible for the job, but I patiently watch him do his best and hold up a skinless filet for my inspection.
Me: Perfect.
KFG2: Huh. It's possible.
This conversation is remarkable not only because the guys working the fish counter didn't know how to remove the skin from a filet - something my local poissoniere would do with a flick of the wrist - but because of their "let's give it a shot" attitude. This is classic American behavior. This is what I miss.
I know the Kroger story isn't related to the first two, but the French conversations - which were coincidentally also about fish - were a few of those times when I was hit upside the head with the reminder that I am definitely not in Michigan anymore.
I love reading your little "fish out of water" anecdotes. Especially since I can relate a little bit in dealing with my French colleagues. I heard a funny story today from an American colleague recently transplanted to the office in Toulouse. Apparently there was a farmers' strike in Toulouse recently and as part of the protest, the farmers were leaving piles of pig manure in random streets, just to futz things up. So my colleague is heading home after work and it turns out that the road is blocked by the police while a cleanup crew is working. Of course this blockade is in a maze of one way roads with few alternate routes. My colleague is in a huge line of cars (>50 or so) that are being diverted to side roads around the mess. So instead of just sucking it up and taking the detour and finding another way around the area, EACH AND EVERY care would pull up to the cop, open their window and enter into a heated argument with the cop, gesticulating wildly with both hands. Of course the cop would just stand there patiently for a couple minutes and shake his head emphatically and wave the car on after the driver had said his/her piece. What could have been a relatively minor inconvenience turned into a huge traffic jam because each driver had to plead their case about how they were SPECIAL and they just HAD to be let through. He ended up driving past the cop, making his way down a couple more side roads, including a short distance the wrong way down a deserted one-way street and making his way home shortly afterwards. I thought that story was pretty damn funny...
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