Back she came from two weeks at French camp, sprung from mosquitoes and bubbling with stories. Bubbling with French, too: French songs and French words and even entire French phrases. French camp will do that for you.
But where were the French insults? Where was the insolence, the haughtiness, the stick-it-in-your-ear Continental charm that announces, “We are France, you are scum”? Two weeks of semi-total immersion in French culture, and she came back every bit as pleasant as when she left.
Come on, camp–get with the program!
Or are they ahead of the program?
Big news recently out of Paris, where the French Tourism Ministry has decided that maybe, just maybe, the typical Frenchman (or Frenchwoman–no reason to leave her out of this) isn’t quite as friendly to visitors from other lands as he or she ought to be. As discoveries go, this one rates somewhere below the polio vaccine, or even the idea that moldy cheese can still get you the big bucks if you sell it right.
For decades–for centuries, probably–the rap against the French has been: “Nasty As They Wanna Be.” Fifty million Frenchmen can’t be wrong, but at any given time, 49 million of them seem to be lacking a few basic social skills. The sneer-free greeting, for instance. The humble silence.
Personally, I’m not sure they treat outsiders any worse than they treat one another. In fact, my own brief exposure to the French population in action can be summed up in two sentences:
1. They were too obnoxious for me.
2. I’m from New York.
Do they care what I think? Are you kidding?
Now they care–or at least their Tourism Ministry does. According to the news stories, France is in danger of losing its position as the world’s No. 1 tourist destination to “nations with sunnier dispositions,” such as Spain. People have somehow gotten it into their heads that if they’re going to spill the entire contents of their bank account into the eager palm of some maitre d’ or concierge (See? Even the words are French), they should be treated better than head lice.
Kind for the sake of kind couldn’t do it. But kind for the sake of profit? That’s a cheval of a different color. So say hello to “Bonjour,” the new campaign intended to turn the French positively cuddly. A “Bonjour” caravan–complete with concerned tourism officials and even a hot-air balloon–will be visiting 25 French cities this summer, handing out make-nice advice to tourist-industry types all over the place. The goal? Only a total personality makeover.
I haven’t seen the playbook, but maybe they’ll even suggest deep-sixing a few favorite stunts. The “End of the Meal Surprise,” for instance. A couple of friends caught this one in Gay Paree a while back. A dinner in a romantic setting, the dishes cleared away, and then the waiter, ever-so-solicitous, inquires whether they might like some coffee.
“Of course,” they say.
And some creme fraiche in their coffee?
“Creme fraiche?” they say to themselves. “Fresh cream–of course.”
The waiter oozes off, oozes back, spoons it in. Turns out creme fraiche isn’t quite “fresh cream.” In fact, it’s pretty much “sour cream,” which the waiter knew, which the couple didn’t. Sour cream in the coffee–ah, those fun-loving French. Quelle curdle! Quelle joke!
The Tourism Ministry says they’re ready to behave themselves. Me? I’m betting on the hot air.
