Le Quatorze Juillet
Fireworks on Bastille Day
It has been quite a longtemps since I last posted here, but today is Bastille Day, and outside my window I can hear a backdrop of sirens, various drunk people yelling, and mysterious banging sounds which could be cars backfiring, contraband fireworks or my neighbours getting rather patriotic. All of this is making me feel very festive. You see, France’s Fête Nationale also marks my one year anniversary of living in France, and while I still don’t know the words to the La Marseillaise (I can name everyone on the last season of Star Ac though), there are so many things that I have learnt over this past année about France, the French, the world, and even myself, that I would like to share. I can hardly name them all, but here are a select few which I may expand upon another day. Allons-y!
- The most useful phrase I have picked up is C’est pas grave (it’s not serious). This is a wonderful phrase that can be used in contexts ranging from someone stepping on your toe to all kinds of things which really are serious, like say, a cancer diagnosis. I was once watching the evening news and some poor man’s house had been completely devastated and he had lost all of his worldy possessions and all he had to say was c’est pas grave! Sometimes the French are very stoic. That is when they’re not being…
- … very dramatic. Quelle drame! Another thing I have picked up is the art of a crisis. Some people in Paris have un peu de crise over anything and everything. Often while waiting in queues or on public transport. On the 69 bus one afternoon I bore witness to a man yell at a poor young lady, and the entire bus, about using her mobile phone, ranting on about the demise of society and how he should just go and kill himself now. Of course this man would probably say c’est pas grave if he were diagnosed with cancer. It’s all very confusing.
- Aging French rock stars are very scary. I present Exhibit A – Michel Polnareff. I could give you several more examples but I really think he is enough evidence.
- There’s an unspoken dress code for each arrondisement in Paris and after a while you can pick it. Basically everyone wears variations on the same thing though.
- Coming from an Anglo background and upbringing, I still always get surprised when people do the double cheek kiss, but I’d rather they did that than not do it at all.
- I can’t wear as much eyeliner as French girls without looking like I was in a violent punch up, or a panda.
- I like how everything is often given a cute nickname ending in -o, like frigo, texto, moto, and Sarko.
- Often the things that smell the worst do in fact taste the best.
- I swear a lot more now than I did before, putain.
Merci France for letting me storm your proverbial Bastille.
Antonia Hayes is an Australian writer, photographer and mother of one who woke up one morning somewhere in between The Eiffel Tower and Invalides unsure how she ended up there but decided to stay anyway. Originally from Sydney, she has been living in Paris since 2006 but still can't remember which one is the Left Bank and which is the Right Bank. Antonia is currently working on her first novel and is pretty sure she lives on the Left Bank.