But is widely accepted to talk crap about the Chinese.
Parisians do not feel bad for coming up with blunt generalities about the Chinese. Parisians not being racist, they do not comment upon the characteristics all Chinese have in common. For instance, they do not say the Chinese are cruel. They know they are, but, not being racist, they do not say it.
Parisians being thorough analysts of the situation of the world, they prefer to talk about economy and geostrategy. Thus, everytime the word ‘Chinois’ is mentioned in a conversation, one Parisian will necessarily say ‘They’re taking over’. Other Parisians will smile hearing that. If the discussion gets more precise and serious, one may then sense real worry on the Parisian’s side. To express his fear, the Parisian will usually at some point in the conversation say ‘ils vont nous bouffer’. If the Parisian has actually been to China, he will throw a ‘vous vous rendez pas compte’ in there.
This last argument is not a good one. For the Parisian se rend compte. He always does. But when it comes to the Chinois, he really does. The Chinese community used to be circumscribed to the 13th arrondissement and to Chinese restaurants. Fifteen years ago, many Parisians started interacting with the Chinese to buy computers from them; that was in the 12th. Over the past 10 years, the Chinese have taken over the textile business: you will therefore find many Chinois in the 2nd and 3rd. All this is ok. But what Parisians are truly bewildered about is the fact that the Chinese are now taking over most Parisian cafés. Au revoir Auvergnats! Bonjour Chinois!
Several elements are brought to the table by Parisians to explain such an evolution. “Ils sont travailleurs” is the main one. It is of course accurate. But the Parisian is well aware of the importance of money in such matters. Two theories preside when it comes to Chinese money: ‘c’est la mafia’ and ‘ils s’entraident beaucoup, ils ont leur propre système de financement’.
All conversations about the Chinese end the same way. ‘Ils ne me dérangent pas, ils sont travailleurs et discrets’. For the Parisian is not racist, he shall not keep on with his reasoning which would involve comments about Blacks and Arabs.
Parisians have respect for Chinese. No Parisian would push that respect as far as to actually befriending a Chinois. Such a thing is not conceivable. Especially since Chinese ‘spit’ and ‘are loud’. Call that the Parisian vision of being discret.
Useful tip: While in Paris, do not bother trying to make a difference between Asian people. They are all Chinois. Sound like a Parisian: « Ils sont forts ces chinois»
I’m off to NY a week from now. Then, I’ll be off to SF for two days, on my way to New Zealand and Australia (Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide). Yes, Parisians like to travel
Being a rookie, I don’t know if this is done in the blogosphere etiquette (I suspect it isn’t), but I’m looking for a place to stay in NY, SF, NZ, Melbourne and Adelaide.
I’m friendly, discrete and, as Chris Rock puts it… clean too.
Anyway, if you or your friends/family have an extra bed or just feel like having a drink sometime with a travelling Parisian, just let me know!
Merci merci,
Olivier (olivier - at - o-chateau - dot - com)
PS: While travelling, ad in case that’s of interest for anyone, I shall keep fueling you with silly little posts
After the weather conversation, the weight conversation is the Parisian’s favourite. It is a fantastic conversation. It allows the Parisian to display observation talent, contrition while at the same time showing ambition and resolution.
The Parisian shall not let fatness take over.
Comments about the weight gained or lost by a person - should that person be facing the Parisian or not - are usual and widely accepted. Being utterly sensitive, the Parisian frequently enriches his weight comment with a psychological explanation. The most common reason in Paris to explain weight gain is “il a pas trop la forme”. The Parisian knows how to play with words. Psychological contribution aims at displaying a deeper level of consciousness and a real sense of empathy. The Parisian never sees you as just a body. The Parisian knows you are first and foremost a soul.
Only one expression can precede weight comments. That is “bah dis donc”: « bah dis donc, t’as pris un peu, non?! ». Or, reversely « bah dis donc, t’as vachement maigri ». It is good to know that the Parisian will only seem to rejoice about a friend’s weight loss. Deep inside, all he thinks about is that his weight is not following the same noble curve.
A common mistake is to believe that only Parisian women are dieting. Men are too. Paris is the only city in the world where men eat salads for lunch. It would be misleading to draw conclusions about the salad-eating Parisian man’s sexual orientation.
Diets in Paris are not followed in a precise manner. Especially by men. In Paris, social life undermines all possibilities of an actual diet. Hence all possibilities of an actual weight loss. Since diets do not work, Parisians need more diets. Parisian women try diets they hear about in magazines or from their friends. Parisian men just skip dessert. Yet, Parisian men are never ‘au régime’, Parisian men ‘font gaffe en ce moment’. It is not the same.
Parisians cannot get enough of ‘allégé’, ‘0%’ and ‘light’ mentions on the food they buy. It has lately become unthinkable for Parisian women to buy yogurts that are not ‘0%’.
While the rest of the world wants more for less, the Parisian wants less for more. Diets in Paris are the path to wisdom.
Useful tip: Compliment Parisian men about their weight losses. They will pretend not to care. But you and I know better. Sound like a Parisian: « Un ptit dessert ? Non, j’fais gaffe en c’moment»
Art exhibits are a Parisian must. They are many and constant.
Modern art, photographers, retrospectives… you name it.
Most Parisians are aware of the main ‘expos’ going on.
It would yet be naïve to believe that the point for Parisians to know about current exhibits is to go see them or to develop their culture. The real point of knowing about current exhibits is to show you know about current exhibits. The main effect of which will be an immediate increase in the Parisian’s perceived social value.
Knowing about current expos, if displayed frequently, yet rather discretely, will make Parisians seem delightfully refined and cultured. Parisians show reverence to people of culture.
It is important to understand that ultimate levels of sophistication do not come in Paris from being a person of culture but from coming across as one. Culture is a fool’s game in Paris. One may think that keeping up with the ever changing new expo scene is a lot of work. Again, it is not. Remember it is not about knowing but about looking like you do. Many Parisians pass a museum of their way to work every morning. And the main current exhibit is always massively advertised, in the metro or on the streets. So right there, the Parisian can effortlessly fuel conversations with at least two exhibits people ‘need to see’. Maximal effect will be achieved when, alongside with the artist, the Parisian also mentions where the exhibit is held. That is the highest form of culture in Paris.
It is basic Parisian knowledge that only six categories of people go watch art exhibits in Paris. That is: provinciaux, foreign exchange students, teachers, foreign tourists, retirees and expats’ wives. No other Parisian has ever seen an expo ever.
Yet, all Parisians always ‘really want to go see it’. Usually because they ‘heard it was great’. Sadly, they just ‘really don’t have time’. But just in case, ‘when does it end?’.
While figuring out about this pernicious Parisian approach to cultural life, non Parisians may think ‘name dropping’. Foolish. It’s art dropping. Dropping art creates an artsy feeling all around. Contagious bubbles of art talks flourish throughout the city. Experts fail to comment upon it but make no mistake about it: art dropping will soon be considered a form of art itself.
By neglecting art, Parisians create art.
Now what you got, non Parisian?!
Useful tip: Only say you actually went to see une expo when talking to people from one of the five categories mentioned above. It would be rude and pretentious to do so with a Parisian. Sound like a Parisian: « Il y a une super expo Avedon en ce moment au Jeu de Paume»
A good scruff sends Parisian men to the very top of the sexiness scale. Men with a scruff are somewhere between Indiana Jones in Malaysia and Georges Clooney on a Sunday afternoon. Scruff makes Parisian men irresistible.
Parisian men want to be irresistible.
Parisian women love their men with a scruff. They love this itchy expression of adventure that grows on their men’s face. A scruff offers Parisians just the right dose of adventure. Civilized adventure. The look of adventure without the smell of it. Potentiality of things is more than enough in Paris.
In Paris, having a scruff is a social affirmation. A man with a scruff in not a tool of the corporate world. Scruff is a clear indication of freedom in Paris. The most high-end the places the Parisian man goes to with a scruff, the more powerful and confident he obviously is. The limit of scruff wearing is pushed everyday a bit further in Paris.
Though they love their scruff, it is important for Parisian men to go about saying they are tired of their scruff. They need to bitch about how they need to shave and how shaving is such an oppressive task. Parisian men will always shave before meeting up with their mother. It is obviously Parisian knowledge that to Parisian mothers, a scruff is a terrible thing.
Scruff experts do not shave with a razor, but with a ‘tondeuse’. Use of ‘la tondeuse’ allows the most advanced Parisian men to keep a permanent ‘barbe de 3 jours’. With a bit of aesthetic talent and a sense of facial hair styling, Parisian men achieve this miracle: making 3 days last forever.
With just a scruff, Parisian men manage to attract women, express their inalienable freedom and stop time. Yet, their day hasn’t started yet. Now who can beat that?
Useful tip: Scruff with very elegant clothes is the absolute key to success in Paris. Sound like a Parisian: « Ouais, faut qu’j’me rase… ».
All Parisians break the law on a daily basis. Two reasons are usually brought to the table to justify it: the law is stupid. And the law is a pain.
Fair enough.
The Parisian is a firm believer that when it comes to the law, what matters is that most stand by it. Conveniently, the Parisian is seldom part of ‘most’. Which allows him to conveniently pick the rules he wants to follow.
One of the rules that really annoys the Parisian is the drinking and driving rule. Therefore, he rarely stands by it. It is ok for the Parisian to drive drunk. Simply because when it comes to driving, the Parisian is never drunk. He’s always fine. « Non ça va, j’peux conduire, aucun problème… Non, vraiment, c’est bon ! ».
Excuses for driving drunk in Paris are plenty and all excellent ones: cabs are expensive, impossible to find at night, metro stops running early most nights, noctambus (night bus) is sketchy and walking is tiring…
The Parisian should drive drunk. It is common Parisian knowledge that driving drunk in Paris is not dangerous. Paris is filled with red lights at every street corner. And speed limit is low. There is no risk.
Once this knowledge is acquired, it becomes obvious that the drinking and driving rule meets the two criteria that justify not to respect it: that rule is indeed stupid and a pain.
Some Parisians are not bold enough to drive their car or their scooter back home after a night out. They are the wise ones. Therefore, they opt for riding a bicycle. Either theirs or - even more conveniently - a velib. At least, when the Parisian rides a bicycle drunk, he’s not driving a car. Parisians are smart.
Urban legends about this ‘friend of friends’ getting their driver’s licence taken away from them for riding a bicycle drunk abound.
Parisians do not really believe in urban legends.
Useful tip: Before driving drunk, have a mint. Sound like a Parisian: « J’suis nickel, sérieux… ».
In Paris, foreign movies are to be watched in V.O. (V.O. is for version originale - understand in their language of origin, with French subtitles).
If you watch a foreign film in V.F. (version française), you are a beauf.
Straight up.
Watching a movie in V.O. allows the Parisian to display his superiority in many ways. First off, if the Parisian does so, it is because he is a fantastic English speaker (a huge majority of foreign films played in France being American or British). Whether or not the Parisian actually speaks English is irrelevant. He watches films “en V.O” so he is.
Besides being talented and obviously well-travelled, the Parisian is also quite the culture person. Therefore, he shall not tolerate for a work of art to be butchered by poorly executed voice-overs. V.O. is just better. This is not a valid point for Asian movies though.
It is ok to butcher Asian movies with poorly executed voice-overs.
If you want to make your Parisian friend feel good about himself, just offer him the opportunity to go and watch a movie in V.F. He will refuse with much seriousness, arguing that he never watches movies in V.F. Ever. “Je ne supporte pas” (“I can’t stand it”) is usually the line you will get in return. The Parisian just drowned you in the deep seas of ignorance and disdain. Very satisfying feeling. Well done on your side: you just strengthened your friendship with the Parisian.
The Parisian’s love for V.O. now goes beyond movie theatres. In Paris, it is no longer acceptable to like American TV shows in V.F. A few precursors started the trend a decade ago with the show Friends (“je supporte pas la voix de Ross en français”). Most Parisians just cannot cope any more with the dubbed versions that TV plays these days. They need to buy the DVDs. It is an obligation. Intellectual excellence has its price.
Parisians are willing to pay that price.
Useful tip: To look more Parisian, just be passed requesting V.O. It is an evidence. Sound like a Parisian: « VF? Pas moyen!».
Some may think that Parisians live in Paris. They don’t.
They live in doubt.
Parisians doubt.
They doubt everything. All the time.
Truthfully, the Parisian mostly doubts good things. Bad things are rarely questioned for the Parisian knows that bad is part of life.
Doubt is a structuring element of Parisian thinking. Doubt offers one of these double win situation Parisians cannot get enough of. When doubting, you win because you are smarter. If you doubt, you question the given. You shed the higher and brighter light of your intelligence and experience on things.
But doubting is also a wonderful buffer. Against enthusiasm and its load of degrading positive vibes. Parisians will doubt any good news. Systematically. They will question the origin, the reality or the outcome of any new fact. Being in an analytical state allows the Parisian to ingeniously dodge emotional states.
The Parisian is a thinker. Not a feeler. Cold states comfort him.
Doubting people will provide the Parisian with much less social gratification than doubting facts or situations. Doubting someone will be seen as a display of insecurity. It is not recommended. Parisians only doubt two types of people: their parents and their significant other. The Parisian only doubts the people he knows the most.
By doubting things in a systematic manner, the Parisian never expects anything good to come for him. If something good happens, the Parisian will be annoyed that his doubts did not end up being justified. If his doubts were justified and something bad happens, the Parisian will feel the thrill of success and intelligence down his spine.
Bad feels good for Parisians.
Useful tip: The most common expression of doubt in Paris is non verbal. Lips action. Sound like a Parisian: « Mouais… ca m’étonnerait quand même !»
Parisians reluctantly admit to see value in other human beings. Only a few can make it to the pantheon of Parisians’ acceptance. Even fewer artists (living artists being slackers in Paris). Jacques Brel was one of them.
Jacques Brel was Belgian. Usually, Parisians would hold that against him. But Brel’s talent made him universal. And therefore ultimately Parisian.
Every Parisian believes deep inside that he has the talent to be a fantastic artist. Life turned out differently but the potential was there. The Parisian is lazy or caught up in life. But he is immensely talented. Brel was a fantastic artist: by excelling in song writing, in singing and in interpretation, he kindly put a mirror in front of every Parisian’s face. Every Parisian could be Jacques Brel. Every Parisian is Jacques Brel. At least the greatness of Jacques Brel.
Because Brel was also a man in pain. Scandalized by the brutalities of life. Brel was singing his pain away. Parisians are addicted to pain. They admire pain.
A man in pain got it.
His sulphurous combination of pain and talent, presented with the lustrous of elegance and truthfulness, is a turn on for every Parisian. In Paris, constant pain is a form of intellectual distinction. Brel turned pain into beauty. Parisians are forever thankful for that. Brel did not destroy the pain. He magnified it.
While engaging in a conversation about Brel with a Parisian, it is imperative to also mention Brassens. Brassens and Brel in Paris come as a package.
NB: If thanks to this post, some of you get to discover or rediscover Jacques Brel, I will have made the world a better place today.
Useful tip: A great present for a Parisian is the poster of Jacques Brel, George Brassens and Léo Ferré (see image above). Definitely belongs in his toilettes. Sound like a Parisian: « Brel, c’était le plus grand… ».
Parisians like to feed their good old friend guilt. Unconsciously most of the time. But even, at times, in a perversely conscious manner. The toy of choice for Parisians to pet their guilt is not sex. It is Le Moelleux of Chocolat. Le Moelleux of Chocolat is pure indulgence. The ultimate form of chocolate-based pleasure. An irresistible mix of mostly chocolate, butter and sin.
Parisians all love their Moelleux au Chocolat. Every restaurant in Paris carries a Moelleux. It has become a Parisian obsession. A discharge system for all frustrations. A deep hole to jump into blindly.
Le Moelleux is dark, sweet, warm and runny. It is an orgasm crowning Parisian dinners.
All Parisians feel bad about ordering their Moelleux. Most usually handle guilt leaks at the moment of ordering it with a “La Vie est courte” or a “Allez hop, un petit plaisir”. Phrases Parisian men would surely like to hear more often.
Eden’s Garden had the apple, Paris has the Moelleux.
Le Moelleux is such a synonymous of forbidden pleasure that most waiters now offer two spoons when the Parisian orders a Moelleux. Against all odds, at that very moment, Parisian waiters become sympathetic. Their legendary coldness is broken down. The weight of guilt on the Moelleux-eater is too vertiginous. He needs help. He needs another spoon. Even the chef tips in, by frequently adding vanilla ice cream on the plate. Foodies think the vanilla ice cream is a triumphant form of contrast, chaud-froid and black-white all at once, highlighting the brotherly insolence of the silky textures. But no. Vanilla Ice Cream is just there as a relief. It is just there to make the Moelleux-eater feel better about himself. Vanilla ice cream brings the lightness and the freshness. A spoonful of glace vanille, even mixed with a bite of moelleux, is still not moelleux all the way.
Le Moelleux au chocolat is a very accurate emotional indicator. When witnessing someone eating a Moelleux, it is imperative to be quite considerate and delicate with that person. Moelleux-eaters indulge because they need to. Le Moelleux is the French and fattening version of the American hug. These people are in pain. They need a quick fix. But the moelleux, by feeding their guilt will only increase their pain. Niceness is necessary before, during and after a moelleux.
Parisian women are known to be relentless Moelleux eaters. On a date, an observant Parisian can easily anticipate the outcome of this forming relationship. If the girl opts for Le Moelleux, sexual misery will ensue. Parisian women are known not to indulge twice the same night. It will come as no surprise that ever since the introduction of Le Moelleux in Parisian restaurants, sexual activity in Paris has plummeted.
Useful tip: A restaurant with no moelleux on the menu is considered avant-garde in Paris. Sound like a Parisian: « On se prend un p’tit moelleux ?! ».
It is not proper to be racist in Paris.
All conversations about the Chinese end the same way. ‘Ils ne me dérangent pas, ils sont travailleurs et discrets’. For the Parisian is not racist, he shall not keep on with his reasoning which would involve comments about Blacks and Arabs.![[del.icio.us]](http://images.del.icio.us/static/img/delicious.small.gif){kind=small}
