I was on my way home in a KLM plane. I looked down, and I caught myself dipping my stroopkoekje into my coffee... Does that mean that I have been in France too long?
It has been long enough, that I now write my phone number in pairs of numbers, and I don't feel the urged to have a plate beneath my bread. I even answer the phone with just an 'allo', in a suspicious way, just in case it's someone looking for me. However, it's not a complete transformation; salad is not eaten after the main course, you should stand in the queue... and yes, you can be slightly considerate when driving! You in the Citröen, try it, it's rewarding in a feel-good kind of way. It doesn't even slow you down.
It isn't too long though, and Sarko's effort to keep the riff-raff at bay is perhaps in line with how long it takes to be 'integrated'; four years before one can ask for nationality, and it may just take that long. A brief stroll down the memory lane of French music, with a few friends, is all it took for me to realise I'm not there yet. To associated with most French artisty types, one has to be fully tormented, borderline depressive and live in a sparsely furnished loft apartment where you smoke and hang out with an anorexic model... looks like a scene out of a classic movie ;)
So I may not be completely ready, but a stroopkoekje tastes better dipped, and last weekend I even had my 'glass' of hot chocolate for breakfast from a bowl... that counts doesn't it.
Last weekend was out in the hills again, fresh snow and I-work-in-an-office-and-tried-cross-country-skiing kind of aches, beautiful.
It isn't too long though, and Sarko's effort to keep the riff-raff at bay is perhaps in line with how long it takes to be 'integrated'; four years before one can ask for nationality, and it may just take that long. A brief stroll down the memory lane of French music, with a few friends, is all it took for me to realise I'm not there yet. To associated with most French artisty types, one has to be fully tormented, borderline depressive and live in a sparsely furnished loft apartment where you smoke and hang out with an anorexic model... looks like a scene out of a classic movie ;)
So I may not be completely ready, but a stroopkoekje tastes better dipped, and last weekend I even had my 'glass' of hot chocolate for breakfast from a bowl... that counts doesn't it.
Last weekend was out in the hills again, fresh snow and I-work-in-an-office-and-tried-cross-country-skiing kind of aches, beautiful.
Wishing you some changes of habit.
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