French quirks in Provence

Taking note for our future family...
I love these stories about living in France,
especially this concept of a ritual around food!

On food rituals: The food culture in France is very rich, and ritual is the source and keeper of that richness. When we first arrived, I marveled watching the 20 children in Romy’s crèche (daycare), ages 0 to 3 years old, sit around a table for their goûter (afternoon snack) and not one child was allowed to begin until all the other children had put on their bibs and passed the plate around. Something like this is only possible in a culture where taking part in food is a daily ceremony, practiced and taught. Other than the goûter, children around here don’t eat between meals, as a rule. One French friend insisted: a child should feel hunger every day, before each meal. After all, she said, only a hungry body can fully appreciate food.

On doudous: Another thing that is universally French and really sweet is the concept of a doudou (from the French word doux, or soft). It is essentially a lovie or blankie, and all French kids have one for moments of crisis and always for sleep. At the girls’ school, there is a ‘doudou wall,’ where each child has a pocket with her name. Some kids get very attached to just one doudou, rendering it difficult to launder, and life gets very tricky if this doudou gets lost. There is even a service called SOS Doudou where found doudous are listed online. The service will also ship out a new doudou that matches the lost doudou via overnight express! 



On the language: Watching my girls become French has been surprising; in fact, it has taken my breath away. On rare occasions, I worry that I am losing them somehow or that they are distancing themselves from my home culture — a feeling I didn’t foresee. I see the shape of the vowels on their lips and mouths, their expressions and gestures (blowing their cheeks out in exasperation, their lips sinking downward in an upside-down U shape) and they are French. The other day, Colette even put a finger under one eye and pulled the skin down to say, yeah right. It feels strange that my children will have this trove of cultural knowledge that I cannot ever know natively. I am an immigrant and they are natives, a curious divide.

Also, I feel like I’ll never be funny in French — the cultural references, getting the timing right, etc. I’m able to do that in English, but it’s really hard in a different cultural context. My sister-in-law doesn’t speak English at all, so our entire relationship over the past 12 years has been formed in French. There are parts of myself I’d love her to know.


On praise: The French parents we know don’t often praise their kids. When I’d say to my own kids, ‘Wow, Romy, what a beautiful drawing! Colette, great job pushing yourself on the swing!’ French parents look at me strangely. Of course, I want to celebrate and support my children, but then I read an article about kids who stop doing things because they love them but instead because they’re seeking external reinforcement. I see that even in my own kids. Now I’ve tried deliberately to hold back my tendency to say, ‘That’s wonderful!’ I want my girls to enjoy things like swimming in the pool because it feels good for them, not because I’m on the sidelines cheering. 


On a close-knit community: When shopping for our family’s groceries, I walk through the village market — the bread shop is separate from the cheese shop is separate from the meat shop. Each time, the owners will strike up a long conversation, even if there are five people behind me in line. The pace of life here blew me away. I adore it, except when I’m catching a flight soon and just need to get bread! Those sweet relationships are part of being a village. The butcher says his son will take his place after he retires, and he’s training him on sausage making. When we go on vacation, the baker’s son feeds our cats and waters the plants.


Drying clothes outside. “The girls smell like sun,” Emilie says.

I hope we can stay here for a long time. We left New York not knowing what we were doing. All our friends were like, ‘You guys are nuts.’ But the balance we find here, and the way we see our children integrating into this little village, it’s what we dreamed of.
via {cup of jo}

0 comments:

Post a Comment