Sitting Between Two Chairs
Assis entre deux chaises is a French expression literally meaning “sitting between two chairs” or the equivalent of our English term “fence-sitting.” There are a few other expressions in French that also convey that same sense of ambivilence, either not wanting or not capable of making a decision. I myself prefer the two chairs one; there is a certain picture in my mind when I say it.
Sometimes I feel like I live my life between two chairs. I am always juggling the French culture and the American culture, trying to figure out where I belong. I am often drawn to the French; I appreciate certain aspects of their life. Then, later, I find myself half-insane with their habits.
Take for example, this weekend when we were moving everything: the day started early on Saturday morning, when we were all to meet at the church to start loading the moving truck. When we arrived, the pastor of the church where we rented office space told us he had just fixed coffee for everyone. So, naturally, we all sat down for about 45 minutes, drinking coffee and talking about the future of the sport of soccer (having a lot to do with French star Zidane). Finally, we all rose and got to work for an hour or two, before we stopped for another pause café (coffee break). We didn’t actually drink coffee that time, but we did drink water and stand around for about fifteen minutes.
This is completely normal for the French. At work, everyone takes their break around 10:30 or so, often congregating in the staff room or the kitchen, like a mini-party. Everyone shares their snacks like a little picnic together while chatting about life at home or the weekend’s activities.
While I have no problem with coffee breaks, what annoyed me on Saturday was the amount of work we still had left compared with the time we spent “goofing off,” drinking coffee and talking. We took another 45 minutes for lunch (short by French standards), which I felt we deserved actually for our hard work in the morning, but of course, after lunch, there was another round of coffee for everyone, including more men who were only able to work in the afternoon.
Once the truck was loaded at 4:30 pm, I was ready to hit the road for Bordeaux. I was exhausted, hot and sweaty, and really dreading the six hour drive back home. My colleague Laurent has family in that area, so he suggested we go to their house and shower just to refresh ourselves before the long trip home. I wasn’t opposed, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it would drag into a lengthy visit.
We got to their home, which was lovely, and I really enjoyed his brother-in-law Jean-Pierre and his wife Laurence. They were extremely hospitable, especially considering I was a total stranger on the doorstep asking for a shower! We sat and drank fruit juice on their shaded patio for an hour, taking turns in the bathroom. Then Laurence fixed us a quick cold “snack,” plates heaping with cut canteloupe, sliced ham, tomato and cucumber salad, fresh bread, and fruit mousse. Of course, she threw it together in moments. I thought I was in paradise! It was fantastic, but of course, we spent another hour eating it and chatting some more. Laurence in particular kept engaging me in conversation, because she really liked my accent. While I was enjoying myself, I couldn’t help but think that we were edging up on 7:00 PM, which meant we wouldn’t arrive in Bordeaux until after 2AM. The loaded truck was bound to go slower and need more gas stops than we had made on the way down. But I swallowed my apprehensions along with tart rasberry mousse.
Late that night, while we drove, I thought of a conversation that Laurence and I had. She asked me what I liked about life in France, and I said that time spent with family is the most important part of their lives. People aren’t obsessed with work; they take time to eat as a family every night. The kids, even the teens, don’t go off in several different directions. Everyone does everything as a family. Even men go grocery shopping with their wives. It’s very pleasant and calm, and I admire the French simplicity of family life.
Having said all of that to her, I couldn’t help but reflect on all the times that day when I had been annoyed because the French were taking time to talk to one another, talking about life and enjoying that same simplicity of friendship and food. They appreciate things like that more than work, which will always be there and will somehow get done. It’s just not what they live for. I was the only person chomping at the bit all day, wishing we could work faster, harder, more efficiently. And, you know, at the end of the day, I think that I was the only one who hadn’t completely enjoyed myself.
Sometimes I feel like I live my life between two chairs. I am always juggling the French culture and the American culture, trying to figure out where I belong. I am often drawn to the French; I appreciate certain aspects of their life. Then, later, I find myself half-insane with their habits.
Take for example, this weekend when we were moving everything: the day started early on Saturday morning, when we were all to meet at the church to start loading the moving truck. When we arrived, the pastor of the church where we rented office space told us he had just fixed coffee for everyone. So, naturally, we all sat down for about 45 minutes, drinking coffee and talking about the future of the sport of soccer (having a lot to do with French star Zidane). Finally, we all rose and got to work for an hour or two, before we stopped for another pause café (coffee break). We didn’t actually drink coffee that time, but we did drink water and stand around for about fifteen minutes.
This is completely normal for the French. At work, everyone takes their break around 10:30 or so, often congregating in the staff room or the kitchen, like a mini-party. Everyone shares their snacks like a little picnic together while chatting about life at home or the weekend’s activities.
While I have no problem with coffee breaks, what annoyed me on Saturday was the amount of work we still had left compared with the time we spent “goofing off,” drinking coffee and talking. We took another 45 minutes for lunch (short by French standards), which I felt we deserved actually for our hard work in the morning, but of course, after lunch, there was another round of coffee for everyone, including more men who were only able to work in the afternoon.
Once the truck was loaded at 4:30 pm, I was ready to hit the road for Bordeaux. I was exhausted, hot and sweaty, and really dreading the six hour drive back home. My colleague Laurent has family in that area, so he suggested we go to their house and shower just to refresh ourselves before the long trip home. I wasn’t opposed, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it would drag into a lengthy visit.
We got to their home, which was lovely, and I really enjoyed his brother-in-law Jean-Pierre and his wife Laurence. They were extremely hospitable, especially considering I was a total stranger on the doorstep asking for a shower! We sat and drank fruit juice on their shaded patio for an hour, taking turns in the bathroom. Then Laurence fixed us a quick cold “snack,” plates heaping with cut canteloupe, sliced ham, tomato and cucumber salad, fresh bread, and fruit mousse. Of course, she threw it together in moments. I thought I was in paradise! It was fantastic, but of course, we spent another hour eating it and chatting some more. Laurence in particular kept engaging me in conversation, because she really liked my accent. While I was enjoying myself, I couldn’t help but think that we were edging up on 7:00 PM, which meant we wouldn’t arrive in Bordeaux until after 2AM. The loaded truck was bound to go slower and need more gas stops than we had made on the way down. But I swallowed my apprehensions along with tart rasberry mousse.
Late that night, while we drove, I thought of a conversation that Laurence and I had. She asked me what I liked about life in France, and I said that time spent with family is the most important part of their lives. People aren’t obsessed with work; they take time to eat as a family every night. The kids, even the teens, don’t go off in several different directions. Everyone does everything as a family. Even men go grocery shopping with their wives. It’s very pleasant and calm, and I admire the French simplicity of family life.
Having said all of that to her, I couldn’t help but reflect on all the times that day when I had been annoyed because the French were taking time to talk to one another, talking about life and enjoying that same simplicity of friendship and food. They appreciate things like that more than work, which will always be there and will somehow get done. It’s just not what they live for. I was the only person chomping at the bit all day, wishing we could work faster, harder, more efficiently. And, you know, at the end of the day, I think that I was the only one who hadn’t completely enjoyed myself.