Douce France, cher pays de mon enfance...

I was in training yesterday. It was a one-day class called: “International Etiquette”. It included lunch in an uppity restaurant as part of the training.

We basically learned the minimum of good manners, with attention to North-American etiquette versus European. We learned how to eat with an Ambassador and not commit some gross blunder.
Having grown in Europe, where good manners are very important, and with parents for whom they were mandatory, I can’t say that I learn a lot of NEW things, but it was a solid review of stuff I had not seen, nor really practiced, in a long time.

The reason I was taking this training, in case you wonder, is because we often receive VIPs, at work, Canadian but occasionally Russian, Japanese, Chinese, American or European... Mastering good manners helps feeling confident with completely different cultures.

The teacher was a dumpy and unglamorous French-Canadian older woman, much to my surprise. But she had traveled a lot and she knew her stuff. She stated, matter-of-factly, that in France, and elsewhere in Europe, you WILL be scrutinized, evaluated, judged and catalogued on the sole basis of your manners.

I was the first time I heard somebody stating the essential reason I will not live in France again.

The French are so uppity about manners and good breeding. Yet put them in the streets, or in a crowd. Do you think they will good-naturedly and orderly line-up while waiting for something, like North American do? No, they will press and push in chaos, each man for himself to try and get first.
Will they be courteous and mindful of others in places like airplanes? No, they will tend to be rude and selfish and totally self-centered.
Will they avoid littering, out of respect for others? Just go to France...

So I am sorry but good manners extend beyond a dining table and a way to shake hands. And the French don’t have it. So I will not live in a society where I will be judged, and harshly so, on these superficial criteria instead of on what really matters, the person I really am.

And this, folks, is why I although I miss France like crazy sometimes, I will not go back to live there. And am I passing a judgement on the French? You bet! And does it matter? Not one iota, thankfully!