Through the Funny Glasses, Spring 2010

I've just come back from summer in La Belle France to spring in Gorgeous Sydney. I love my half French life.

What draws us to a culture that's not our own? Why is it that many of us feel some inexplicable pull towards another lifestyle and country? For me it was always France.  Before even putting a foot on French 'terre' I was already a Francophile, studying French at school, working for Club Med and then working in Europe as a Tour Guide in my 20's. Strange that a beachy girl with surf clubby parents has always been smitten with everything French; Paris, French accents, food, wine and haunting medieval villages.

So it must have been destiny that led me to a Kings Cross nightclub in 1988 where with blatant lust I cracked onto the tall, dark and handsome Jean Michel.

He had me at 'bonjour'.

After 25 years living in Australia, my French husband  is a sort of Scott Cam meets Inspector Clouseau....an irresistable mix! Our 16 year old daughter speaks fluent French, so glad we persisted in drilling this into her from a young age..she's already thanking us.

On my very last night in France, I caught up with a Parisienne friend who I met on the beach in Ios, Greece when we were about 20. She (bitch!) is still looking totally bloody amazing. Now it must be said that not all French women are beautiful, trust me; this is a myth. The countryside is full of French Bogans with short back and side haircuts, sensible slip on shoes, daggy glasses and catalogue bought clothes. Honestly, sometimes in French villages I am the trendiest, most stunning woman on earth simply because I am not wearing an apron over my dress and a pair of Homi Peds. But; most Parisiennes are very stylish and exude a confidence in their sexuality which borders on threatening. Marie is no exception. Very slim and smokes too much, but hey, this is the real reason why French Women Don't Get Fat....cigarette in mouth equates to no food in Gallic stomach.

 Appearances count. Let me explain with a little 'l'histoire'.

I arrived outside her workplace for our drink and dinner date dragging four large plastic shopping bags full of cute souvenirs and trendy clothes for my daughter. Marie took one look at my burden and ushered me quickly (furtively?) down to the parking and thrust the bags into the boot of her car before we walked to a nearby bar. We had 2 drinks...no more, the French can be very prudent and disciplined with alcohol, sadly. Returning to the car I tried to reclaim my shopping bags to take into the restaurant so I could catch the Metro home straight after dinner. She just looked at me, looked down at the bags and said 'non'. It suddenly dawned on me that she was not stashing the bags to be helpful. It hadn't sunk into my thick head that there was NO WAY Marie was going to walk into a restaurant accompanied by a bag lady lugging four great big, ugly, plastic sacks! In a very polite but assertive way she enquired if I had anything more 'respectable' to carry them in? An acceptable compromise was to jam everything into my newly bought, rather spiffy and altogether 'respectable' black and white St Germain plastic coated carry bag. Voila! Phew! A major faux pas averted. Got to love those French.

A la prochaine (till the next time)

Dana