The French Way

I am staying with a Fr girl in Paris. We met 2 years ago in NYC.

Fr Girl writes to me:
Dear Macaron girl,

Oh btw, when you are here, we will do things The American way. You do as if you were in your home. You open the fridge, put in tons of macarons. Eat in the kitchen. Use everything you want.......so funny!!!!

~

American girl arrives Sunday morning.
 Fr girl announces her friends are joining us at noon for lunch in Chinatown.

At 12:06: American girl famished from long plane trip says,
"Where are your friends...ahem?"

At 1:06: American girl says,

"Ahem...do you think we should call your friends? Maybe they are lost?"
At 1:30:American girl is dying to look in the fridge for macarons.

At 2:15 friends arrive on time .
This is The French way.

American girl is leaving for Sonia Rykiel show.

Fr girl politely asks: "Are you taking that bag with you?"
The American Way: "You are not leaving the house with that horror!"

Fr Girl has a snack The French Way: She eats 2 potato chips, with a naughty smile and folds the bag away.

The American way: Devour entire bag mindlessly instantly.
Fr Girl eats her petit dej' of two slices of toast slathered thickly with beurre de Normandie, honey and drinks some tea.

One has to wonder how Fr Girl fits into her complicated, witty skirts that only a French girl could wear? It's beyond me.

In the morning (5am) I'm at the computer, headphones on, working on my blog post, humming merrily away to Whatchasay.

Fr Girl is suddenly standing in the doorway in her PJs.

"Your singing is waking me up!"
Fr Girl does her blog posts the evening before like any sane Fr person.

Fr Girl is off to Carnaval in Limoux Thursday night, so she warns,

"French people sleep in on the weekends.
No loud singing SVP!"

On Thursday I go to my macaron class at the Ritz.

I see deux mecs/2 guys standing in chefs jackets yacking in English. I ask them,

"How do I find the class?"

They respond The French way,

"BONJOUR...BONJOUR"

then lead me down to the Ritz kitchen.

At reception 2 Fr women look at my facture and remark, giggling, "But your class is next week!"

Eeep...I did not read the fine print.

I remember author Elizabeth Bard is doing a reading/book signing of Lunch in Paris at W.H.Smith just up the street on rue Cambon.

Elizabeth has a delightful way of recounting her experiences of The French Way. She met a Fr guy in Paris and married him. Elizabeth's French mother-in-law/belle mere is eternally thin and fits into skirts she wore in high school. She never snacks between meals and at the beach only brings a bottle of water.

Elizabeth describes her French husband at breakfast:

He leisurely makes coffee, sits down, reads his paper perhaps, surrounded by chaos, yet ignoring it
The French way. I know you'll enjoy her book.

Wednesday night, Fr Girl says,

"OK I am going away tomorrow.

Tonight we eat The French way.
After, you can do what you want."

She takes away my soup pot, puts the computer on the floor, lays down a linen tablecloth and silverware. Soup is served in a proper bowl. Then she sits down and joins me for dinner The French way and heaves a sigh of relief.
Fr Girl's parting words:
"Don't burn down the house."
This is a universal sentiment.

So whatchasay? Have you experienced
The French Way?