One of the first things that strikes me when I return to the States after a long period of time is the way in which people interact on the street.
I know, of course, that there’s more interaction in America than there is in France; it was something I noticed early and often upon moving here. I would notice a Parisienne’s dress at the bus stop and comment on it, or smile at someone in the métro, only to have my advances rebuffed, as though I were staggering towards them reeking of alcohol instead of merely interacting.
But it still strikes me when I return: the man I’ve never met who says a chipper “Hello” when I cross the street, the woman who, upon overhearing my conversation with my sister, spends half a block giving her opinion on my new workout regimen. My first instinct upon hearing these people is to balk. I’m perhaps too French, now, for small talk with strangers.
But immediately after, I feel guilty. I want to want these interactions, if only because I remember how cold the French felt, to me, when I first arrived.
This isn’t to say that French people never speak to one another on the street. They do – just not always kindly. The story of an elderly woman on the bus rebuking a lady having a very loud phone conversation has become legend in my family:
“You’re in a society,” she seethed. “No one wants to hear your conversation.”
Similarly, adults do not hesitate in parenting the children of others if, in their opinion, said parents are not parenting properly. The sorts of chastising comments I’ve heard when children are speaking too loudly on the bus or blocking the exit to the bakery would make any American parent balk.
There’s a bit of me that thinks that this stems from an innate negativity in France. French people tend to prefer to come off as negative; sunny optimism, generally speaking, makes you seem simple. But there’s also that pervasive idea of “society” in France: in America, we’re seen as independent, free individuals – and treated as such, but in France, a feeling that everyone is part of one common village – even in Paris – still seeps into everything we do.
I’m still not sure which one I prefer. That said, reencountering either gives me a very distinct feeling of coming home.
Potato Salad with Corn and Red Onion
1 pound new potatoes
2 cups fresh corn kernels
1 small red onion, minced
3 tablespoons minced chives
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
salt and pepper
Cook the potatoes in boiling salted water for 20 minutes, or until tender.
Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. Whisk together the mustard and vinegar, then emulsify with the oil. Season with salt and pepper.
When the potatoes are cooked, rinse them under cold running water until cool enough to touch. Slice and place directly into the vinaigrette, and toss to coat. Refrigerate for 20 minutes.
Add the corn, onion, and chive, and toss to combine. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve.