Before I came to France, I did some research on French culture and took the time to read about half of a very wonderful book from a Canadian couple who came to France and lived here for two years while writing a book all about the French. I feel like I came here prepared to witness the differences between my culture and the French culture, and anything I wasn’t  sure about I could ask about or  just try to be as subtle as possible. This research was part of my quest to avoid being the dreaded, ugly American.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job. My book, and also Rick Steve’s travel skills book, advised that even if my French is terrible I should try to use it. The French seem to appreciate it when you try, and if you don’t know how to say it at least ask them if they speak English before you rattle something off. It’s very rude to just start speaking English in a foreign country. Apparently some tourists don’t realize that.

So, I’m at lunch in a small restaurant in town. I arrived before lunch hour, take a seat, and get comfortable until I can order. Just as I am ordering, this couple comes in to the restaurant. Asian, dressed in flashy-coloured wind breakers (not big in Europe,) solemn faces between them. They walk in and ask for a table in English, with this very assertive tone. I’m immediately displeased to see this happen. They take a seat and continue to speak English to a waiter who is trying his best to understand. The owner, who does speak English, is 5 feet away and must be annoyed as well because when I kindly asked him if he spoke English earlier and asked some questions he more than happily obliged and yet, for this ignorant, presumptuous couple he is not even willing to accommodate them.

Until they start shouting things across the room. This is another France no-no. Volume control is a big thing here. Everyone talks – everyone talks a lot – and they’re very friendly, but no one talks at a volume that amounts to anything more than a low roar. So, this couple is shouting in English across the restaurant. They are asking ridiculous questions about the sole and, at one point, the Ugly American Man gets up and asks the French speaking waiter for a cell phone charger. A CELL PHONE CHARGER?! WHAT IS YOUR DAMAGE, DUDE?

Maybe. MAYBE you could get away with plugging your charger in to an outlet and charging it there will you eat. Maybe. I wouldn’t do it. I think that’s very inappropriate, but if you’re desperate then go ahead and ask. But he wasn’t just asking to plug his phone in.. he was asking if they had a charger for his phone. WHY? Just why, little man? And the way he said it made me want to pick up my plate of penne and ratatouille and throw it directly at his head. It was like he actually expected them to accomodate such a request. Like it wasn’t ridiculous. Like he does it all the time back home. He totally knows bettter, and these nice restaurant people are totally not amused.

Finally, the two of them shut up and eat their food. Life goes on, I finish my meal and head across the street for some killer glaces (ice cream,) and make a mental note to be more aware of how I sound to the people around me. I run through my standard French phrases and be sure to use them to thank the staff and owner on my way out the door as always, because that is just as much expected as it is in the states. And I’m sad for those who come here unprepared, because it’s really not fun to be the ugly American.