Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Two weeks now in France,

Two weeks now in France, and I am soaking up the culture like a sponge. SpongeFloyd TightPants. There's some really cool elements to French culture (mostly revolving around the food here, which will likely contribute to the TightPants...), but some that I distinctly dislike. For example? Driving. In France. Is crazy. I don't know how to describe it.

Yes I do. Okay, again, let me preface the little rant by some measure of understanding - the towns here and hundreds of years old, and the streets were created by and for horse-drawn carriages, so they don't exactly lend themselves to being car-friendly. And it's not like there's no jerks driving around in Canada. But let me relate this little factoid to you - the French have crossing guards at crosswalks leading to schools, not merely for added safety, but also because, without them, no one would ever stop. Poor little Francine or Jacques would just stand on the other side of the road all day until their parents came to pick them up. I seriously had to make the "Stop" motion with my hand the other day while trying to cross a crosswalk. Same goes with changing lanes - no one will let you in. Fortunately we drive these big-ass vans and the French drive tin cans on wheels so when it's my turn to drive I'm gonna be like "Yo, I'm comin' over, and there ain't a god-damn thing you can do about it!" Or maybe something with better grammar. But more likely worse, with extra cursing.


Oh, and also there's the rule where drivers coming from little side streets on your right have the right of way, but that's a whole 'nother reason for insanity.


Anyway...I'm just enjoying a super-relaxing day off. Last Saturday, Jocelyne (the head guide) and I went to see a rugby game, which would have been awesome had it not been for the asshole sitting two rows behind us who thought he was the Jon Stewart of obnoxious French rugby fans and shouted comments heard all throughout the field that were so "clever" and "witty" that I wanted to "punch" "his face in". The worst is that every once in a while he would say something that was kinda funny, and people would laugh, and this encouraged him to repeat the same comment over and over and over because jokes always get funnier if the fifth and sixth time, doncha know? But it's kind of reassuring that this rare breed of sub-human is not limited to North America.


Well, I'm all snarked out (well, no, I'm not, but that's probably enough for one day). So I leave with the thought that I'm enjoying myself a lot over here, but definitely appreciating the people and culture of home.


And for those who haven't looked up the link yet:

  • Shut it up. Shut it up you.

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