One of my favourite Paris ex-pat blogs is called “La Mom“. It’s about an American woman, married to a Frenchman, who is living and raising a family in Paris. Her experiences are centred around the “16eme” – the 16th district or area of central Paris, which is renowned for being the most wealthy, aristoctatic etc. So many “Anglo-Saxon Women Married to Frenchmen” (there are so many of them that surely they deserve their own official title) who then write books/blogs, seem to find themselves in this area, or with Frenchman who closely resemble those from this area. Think of all those classic French cliches: perfectly manicured women wearing Chanel suits to take their perfectly preened poodle to the local cafe, darling childen in perfectly matched sailor suits looking up at “maman” with big blue eyes etc etc. I love La Mom’s blog because she tells some great stories of these stereotypical Parisiennes, because she tells them with delicious sarcasm – and because her life has very little similarity to mine, despite us both living in the same city and having French “significant others”.
I cringe when I read that she’s been openly criticised by her in-laws and husband (in front of her children too, no less) for not taking the cheeses out of the wrapping and arranging them nicely on a platter. As I was having dinner with M’s family last week, with beautiful cheese cut straight from the wrapping (no plate), everyone man-handling the shared baguette, and a round-robin of leg-lifting farts at the dinner table (his 7 year old niece being the main contributor), I wondered whether La Mom would swap her dream experience for a bit of down-to-earth enjoyment occasionally.
I sometimes think that maybe I missed out on a ‘real’ Paris experience because I just didnt manage to get into the 16eme circles. I have done so much study on high Parisian culture that I would love the opportunity to see if I could “blend in” and get those endlessly elegant people to accept me as “one of them”. But if I had the choice between being openly criticised for my cheese-handling skills, or eating cheese out of the wrapper, then I think I choose the latter.