The American stranger

He slowly got on the bus, made a big smile at the bus driver, clearly articulated a "Bonjour, Monsieur" and preceded to saunter slowly without any hurry at all to a seat towards the middle of the bus. This medium-height burly man had very short uniformly cut ash-blond hair, short-enough to be practical and masculine but not enough to make any kind of fashion statement whatsoever. He was a conformist lacking any given style. Very cleanly shaved, probably with an electric razor, no sideburns, round eyeglasses with thin wire frames, no rings, no watch, no necklace. He wore the same white collar pinstriped shirt all Engineers do (I guess that's the best profession to guess) the type with a pocket to the right with a blue and red bic pen popping out. They were meticulously tucked into his non brand name black dungarees. But oh, let's not forget those Alaskan wilderness boots, the knee high clod hoppers that weigh 100 pounds and can brave any snowdrift. Last but not least, he sported an olive-green puffy winter coat that he wore open but it was so baggy it could have wrapped it around himself almost twice. He had a burgundy land's end bag strapped around his shoulder, probably with a laptop inside....

Well, I've tried to describe this guy in as much detail as possible cause the minute I saw him I knew, just knew, and was 100% sure he was an American. For the last 3 hours I've been wondering why.... What was it? Are people so transparent? Do we just ooze bits of information about ourselves constantly? I don't want to believe that... but at the same time I smell Americans in Europe. Yes, I know, Americans come in all sizes and all colors and have every kind of look or style imaginable. That's what throws me! I guess maybe every "set trait" above, isolated and analysed apart could be French, Spanish, American, Russian etc. etc. but always maybe a tiny percentage point more common in Amercans.... But I don't know, I'm not a scientist. It'd be a great thesis for someone though. I'll give my take on it, my instinct... Frenchmen don't smile and say "Bonjour, Monsieur" to the bus driver, he's not a friend, and even if he were they'd have said "Bonsoir" by that time of day. Next, the French have some kind of look, consciently thought out, and even if they don't have one, that's thought out too so as to give an illusion of having no look. Never just whatever! So that kind of hair cut, less common... So cleanly shaved... also less common... Being so burly for no reason.... he obviously wasn't a fireman nor a bodybuilder.... less common. Many French guys are anorexic by American standards. What else? Those clothes, all mixed up, and I guess I haven't seen them in the shops over here, but in general, a bit too clean-cut. Also such a happy smiley attitude for a cold winter day... much rarer here. Carrying a computer too... He's a yankee, for sure. Parts of him remind me of a Southern Baptist preacher mixed with 1950's McCarthy-ism, a bit of serial killer, good ole boy and a dose of Bill Gates mixed with cheese farmer. Lets not the dash forget road raging SUV driver who has switched to driving a hybrid and collecting his own rainwater in a barrel. An archetype? God help us all. The type I've always avoid but now am strangely nostalgic for. Maybe there's some of him in me too. Oh là là!
Rontay

Oh là là!

There is a little expression in French that every frog uses hundreds of times daily. An expression that has no real translation to English. "On là là!" I guess in theory it could be positive or negative, but in my experience it's usually negative and I dread it. It can have the connotation of "Oh my gawd!" "Oh wow!" "This is unbelievable" to "Damn it!" "Get out of here!" "No way" or maybe even "you're just too weird and i don't like this situation here with you here and now!" Case in point, when you took a month to put together one of those 20 document, 100 signature files for a governmental organization and the burocrat ushering you into his-her office looks at the clock and says "oh là là" or else opens up the file taking out every document then shakes his head saying "oh là là", you're in for it! This means there's something terribly wrong and he considers you a problème. When you go into a bakery shop to buy a croissant, give a 10 euro bill and expect change. The boulangère steps back, takes a deep breath and lets it rip "Oh là là!" You can just feel the contempt. Ask anyone in the street for simple directions and you'll probably get it too. Reading it can be tricky though (You moron, you don't where the préfecture is! or maybe "Get out of my face" or "you are sooo.. weird" or "my time is precious" but I suppose it could also be "how the hell am I going to explain this!) Recently, I show up at a meeting to discuss the garbage problem in the neighborhood, and after being introduced to someone in my building, it happens, no nothing to do with the dumpsters which would have been more logical but because he found out I was American. "Oh là là là là". With all the meanings I just gave you, what do you think it could have meant, dear reader? Well, I'm just saying, avoiding the gd "Oh là là" in Frane is like the plague. I can even predict it nowdays. The person steps back, the eyes open wide, they take in air to say all those là's, the lips start to round, the head swings back, and in the worst situations the shoulders rise and a puff of air or a sigh preceeds it, and of course their hands grip something with all their might (hopefully you're far away) lest that exploding OHHH take them down. The only defense, beat them at their game!!!!!! When the train strike kept me (partly) from going into work, I called up the boss and the first words out of my mouth were "Oh là là" I can't come in today. No way to get there. "Oh là là!" With all that exploding pagentry she had no time to say the inevitable "Oh là là. You" Well, sometimes I just look at France, shake my head and say "Oh là là"
Rontay

Here goes!

Rontay's blog.
If anyone had ever told me I'd be writing a blog, I'd have said they were crazy. Why? One, I'm sooooo... lazy. Two, I know nothing about computers and for most of my life haven't cared. And three, I've got nothing much to say that anyone would care about. Whatever! I won't promise a miracle. If you happen to stumble upon this corner of cyberspace (and that's the only way you'll get here, cause I'm not telling anyone I know about this yet, you're in my secret garden!), you'll see that the photos and graphics, and links are pretty much inexistant here (for now at least). Yeah, really boring! That's cause I really have no clue how to do all those cool things others do in those beautiful pro-like blogs. Which brings me to the main question? Why bother anyway to do this? Well, first of all, it's a good practice and maybe interesting to finally learn how to take advantage of these complicated but fabulous technical things most people know how to do.... digital photos, slide presentations, linking... blah blah blah. Second, hum hum, I feel the need to express myself and talk about my bizarre life. No, I'm not someone who talks a lot. In a group of 5, I never open my mouth. In a group of three, I nod and agree (whether or not I do), and when I have coffee with a friend, I'm usually the listener! So I'm gonna use this as my personal diary. Thirdly, I've always wanted to write but never have, cause I'm too much into perfection: subject and predicate agreements, use of synonyms and antonyms, and make things too difficult for myself, cause I get drawn into some kind of literary quicksand. So I need freewriting, which could possible lead me to become a better writer, and person. Fourthly, they say when you write you organize your ideas and end up being a less chaotic person. And moi, I'm chaotic! As the French would say: Bordel partout (literally bordello everywhere) mind, body and spirit. What a mess. And fifthly, I do need a hobby! My friend Madame K. has had a fantastic blog for years and I envy her. She is my model.
The name of the title of this blog is obviously, floating in France. I guess I should explain that and at the same time introduce myself. I am an American living in France, too old to be considered young and way too young to be old (going on 40). I have spent about 10 years living in an adorable, but boring small town in North Eastern France, between Paris and Germany. I like to say I've been floating around. I never thought I'd end up here! I came for a year, have made many attempts to leave, but always end up staying. I get a job offer at the last minute, I decide to write a thesis, I meet someone new and interesting in the town, I have no where else to go, or no other prospects, and always... with time it's easier and easier to stay with fewer reasons to go. At one time I thought the country would throw me out by not renewing my visa, but I ended up getting permanent residency (like a green card). I still shudder to think I'll be here permanently cause I hope to be somewhere better soon, like bigger, warmer... I feel I'm always saying "Adios" to this place but I'm still here. This leads to the condition I call being "permanently temporary" , compounded by the fact I'm a foreigner here and everybody expects me to leave, and since I think I'll end up in Paris, New York, Rome or Kansas for that matter I have remained in my one-room studio, never daring or wanting to move. I send out job applications but I no longer think anyone will contact me outside my city here. I've been floating in France for a long time now, so just maybe this blog will either help me blow off somewhere else or land here happily knowing that's what's best for me and what I have really chosen. In the meantime, I am trying to enjoy the croissants beurre, the walks along the river, the view of the cathedral from my balcony, and the long nights sipping rosé with my friends in the quaint bars all over town. Voilà! I pledge to put down in words my experience here, my past, my états d'âme, my existence, my thoughts... for you but above all for me!

Rontay