Expat Survey: The Oregonian

Along with appearing to understand what is happening when I have absolutely no idea what anyone is saying, another unpleasant but necessary survival skill that I've picked up during my time abroad is the ability to say goodbye to my nearest and dearest without completely losing it and going into a Ben and Jerry's coma of self-pity.  Alas, the latest dear friend to leave these fair shores is the irreplaceable Oregonian.  After two years working and studying in France, she has returned to her native land to take on the noble cause of looking after teenage girls in the foster care system.  I will miss too many things about her to name, but towards the top of the "Awesome Things About Oregonian" list is her unique perspective and wicked sense of humor.  Happily for me (and for you), she indulged me by agreeing to take a modified version of my Visitor's Survey (2 years is really too long to qualify as a visit) for your reading pleasure.  So without further adieu,  here are her responses to my nosy questions:

Me: So Oregonian, important things first.  What was your favorite thing to get at the boulangerie?

Oregonian: This raspberry nutella croissant that I only ever found at one boulangerie in the suburbs (L'Hay Les Roses) (I'm convinced that's what God did on the seventh day).

Me: Other than learning the language, what was the hardest thing about Paris to adjust to?

O: Ha. Resisting the urge to smile at everyone I pass on the street.  I love to talk and get to know people, so I had to learn not to say my name right away when I met someone (the French don't do that), and had to censor what I said.  For example, "Je dois faire pipi" (I have to pee) is not appropriate; it's better to say, "Je vais au toilette" (I'm going to the toilet).  I also had to learn to resist the urge to ask personal questions.  To me, personal questions is just part of conversating.  And I love to conversate and get to know people so that was a big adjustment.  Instead of talking about life stories, I had to learn to be content with speaking of the weather and politics.

Me: Do you anticipate any reverse culture shock returning to the States?
O: When I bump into people here in Oregon, I still say, "pardon" or "merci" when they move out of the way. Driving is something I've had to get used to again. Also, now I have to stop saying "noir" (black) when asked how I'd like my meat prepared. I can smile at boys now without them reading anything into it, and I don't have to fake my way through the "bisous." In fact, now I have to awkwardly turn what I thought was gonna be a bisous greeting into a side hug. And probably the biggest culture shock, the CHOCOLATE! After Cote d'or, milka, galler, and lindt, I just don't know that I can go back to Hershey's. (Well s'mores are the only exception to that)

Me:What was your favorite way to spend a Saturday in Paris?

O: Relaxing on the shore of the Seine River, while eating kebabs, and talking with a good friend.

Me: What will you not miss about Paris, not one little bit?
O: I realize I may upset every French person I know by saying this, but the cheese! I will not miss the cheese. I'd take Tillamook cheddar over any of the fancy, stinky french cheeses any day.

Me: Any French habits or phrases that you picked up that you anticipate becoming all the rage in Grant's Pass?

Me: "C'est chouette!" I've already started to make it cool, it's only just a matter of time before it goes state-wide. I've got my brother saying, "Mince!" and he's a pretty popular guy around these parts, so I'm sure it won't be too much longer till it also has taken over. Habits? hmm...any french habits that I'd like to take on myself...yea let me think about that one...no, so don't think they'll be spreading to Oregon anytime soon.  

Me: How close was your time in Paris to the plot of the film "Moulin Rouge"?
O: Not even close! So glad my life is not that depressing! (Though, great music!)

Me: Wasn't French men talking to you on the metro just the best?
O: You know if I were still in Paris sitting on a crowded metro with my personal bubble being invaded by an all too cocky Frenchman who smells of body odor and cologne, I think I might have some negative things to say. But after being back in the land of pot-bellied, cart-hart-wearing, gun-toting, country men who the only communication they enjoy having with the opposite sex is, "Woman, get me a beer," or "Hand me the remote," I think I would have to say that I prefer the french charm over being valued for my abilities to open a beer can and cook chicken. (Disclaimer, a bit of an exaggeration, not all American guys are like that) 

Me: Any lasting life lessons from your time abroad that you feel compelled to share with us?

O: This quote sums it up: "Il faut aller loin pour comprendre ce qui est proche." Paulo Coelho "You must go far away to understand what is close." (rough translation)

Me: Your time in Paris in three words.  Go.
O: "A Movable Feast" (Ernest Hemingway was right).