When in France

It was time for us to give France another chance. Those who know us have heard both Pat and me tell the story of our 2018 nightmare trip. A traitorous jaunt that was overshadowed by train strikes, a machete-wielding lunatic, and a memorable bout of food poisoning that I am still convinced was caused by street market potatoes bathed in undercooked chicken juices. With those memories put to rest and a love for French cheese, bread, and especially wine, we decided to get back on that horse and go another round.

Both my wife and I love Pinot Noir, so it only made sense to start in Burgundy and finish in Paris, hence giving the city of lights a second chance. I could bore you with all the details of things we ate, drank, and experienced, but watching the endless plethora of videos on YouTube would be much more tantalizing and intriguing. However, to provide some background, we sampled all the ubiquitous must-haves like Quenelle, Boeuf Bourguignon, and Pâté. Everything was delicious and met the expectations you would expect from that area of the food world. In Lyon, we had Boeuf tartare. In Nuits-Saint-Georges, we sampled Cassis and 1st Cru wines, and in Chalon-sur-Saône, we sat in the Place Saint-Vincent and sipped Fischer Ambrée beer with locals as locals.

Though we couldn't pinpoint it right away, we did notice a difference between experiencing France and other European countries. There was absolutely none of the stereotypical rudeness everyone hears about; on the contrary, we found both locals and service people to be very friendly and helpful, even if they couldn't be bothered with my pigeon-French and cut me off to just speak English. Everywhere we went, we felt welcomed.

But something was lacking. In a place that is so famous, so beautiful, and so delicious, what could possibly be missing? Then, during a lunch conversation, it hit me after Pat told me to keep my voice down for the fifty-first time. Shocker, right? I'm a loud person. My argument was that I'm not being loud; I'm being passionate. And like a bolt of lightning, there it was, clear as day, passion. That ardent affection and mutual understanding that the here and now is the most fantastic place we could be, so enjoy it.

Coming from a large family, being loud was just part of the meal. If you were telling a story or, better yet, a joke of some kind, you needed to be heard, so our internal volumes were always set to eleven. We weren't trying to be rude; we were just being passionate. It was always fun when a new person would come to Mom's for dinner. I have a wife and daughters-in-law who will attest to this. The shear wall-shaking, earth-moving volume of four brothers and our ol' man barking stories across the table at each other could make geologists at Caltech take notice. Now, I'm not advocating for the French to yell at each other during dinner, but would it kill them to at least pretend to be enjoying themselves? Their quiet demeanor makes dining out seem more like exhaustion than enjoyment.

Other evidence we witnessed was not just behavioral but also physical, and I'm not talking about graffiti. Except for maybe Singapore, I don't think any city in the world has a handle on that grotesque destruction of property. Paris was much cleaner this time, but I fear it was due to the Olympics rather than pride. Very old buildings currently occupied that require minor repairs were just neglected, as if no one cared. We saw a tree growing between the blocks of a second-floor room near a window. If someone cared, they could have pulled it out before it started doing structural damage.

Could my opinion be influenced by bias? Absolutely. Italy will always be my happy place for vacation, despite all the issues the country has. You could write a novel on the areas where the country falls short. However, for me, the successes far outweigh the failures, especially when it comes to its people. In France, we were warmly welcomed as tourists. But when we arrive in Italy, the people we meet make us feel like family, coming home.