Culture shock?

I apologize for the lateness of posting this. I actually wrote this about a month ago, and forgot to post it. So just pretend the date is in September.

It is not mine to speak about the psychology of culture shock. For that, speak to my mother.
However, I am told that the full phases of culture shock require a stay of 12 months or longer. I am only here for about 3 months. When I tell people this, their reactions are quite similar: raised eyebrows and the inevitable “that’s it?”

It’s true, I’m not here long. And I doubt that I will be able to see all that I hope to. But I have had a taste of this phenomenon we call “culture shock” and finally know what it really means to be “homesick.” I never realized I had never felt it before, or at least not to this degree. I miss a lot more than I thought I would. But this is not a blog to dwell on what’s at home, but on what’s here. So here are some cultural differences that I have experienced that I feel differ from the norm and have been part of my own personal “culture shock.”

First, “faire la bise.” The practice of greeting friends with a kiss on both cheeks. This is oddly intimate with people you may consider to be acquaintances, but also oddly informal for those of us used to the friend-embrace. Someone hugged me yesterday and I was honestly taken aback, realizing how long it had been since I had been hugged. This defies Challenge Day’s 3-a-day quota!

Second, 24 hour clock. This isn’t news for many, especially those in the military. But personally, this took a while to adjust to. After noon, I always feel it is way later than it is because the time has that “1” in the ten digit. It is quite helpful though in planning and in train itineraries.

Third, buying groceries. This is one I can’t quite put my finger on. There are stores that specialize in meat or bread or fresh fruits. There are also supermarkets similar to what we have at home. The French equivalent of a Walmart here is Carrefour or Monoprix (actually more like an expensive Target really). Everything is sold in much smaller portions than the Costco-sizes I have grown accustomed to. Meat seems terribly expensive to me, but is compensated with the wide variety of cheese and pastries readily available and are really quite cheap. Also, they have both self pasteurized and non-pasteurized milk. One you have to refrigerate, the other you don’t until you open it. Personally, I really am not fond of raw (unpasteurized) milk.

Fourth, social life. The number one way to socialize and meet people is through the bar nightlife. Anyone who knows me, understands what a problem this poses for me. I have been fortunate to be blessed with understanding companions and others who have similar standards. But needless to say, I’ve had several nights flying solo.

Fifth, drivers. Are you familiar with Utah drivers? French drivers are worse. They pull U-turns in the middle of busy streets, I don’t think they believe in lanes, and I am not 100% sure if there are traffic laws that protect pedestrians. They drive quickly and sporadically. Some will randomly start backing down a street, others go the wrong way around a roundabout. Everyone parallel parks, and do it badly. I was taught in my Washington State Driver’s Ed class a principle called “dividing obstacles.” This is when you are driving down the road and you have an oncoming vehicle on your left and a bicyclist on your right, you “divide the obstacles” by waiting for the oncoming vehicle to pass you on before you pass the cyclist. This is evidently not taught in European driver’s education classes. Drivers are much more fearless about cramming their cars into the smallest gap possible, like they’re in a high speed chase of an action movie. Granted, most cars, even the really nice ones, have dings, scrapes, and broken mirrors. While in America, we get really anal about the tiniest scratches on our precious vehicular transports.

Sixth, Pharmacies. These aren’t solely for the purpose of filling prescriptions. They carry natural supplements, teas, contact solution, and sophisticated lotions, and dot practically every block—like Starbucks in Washington. This is peculiar to me and a perfect stark contrast to America. I’m curious how this portrays our national dispositions. I would advise against jumping to any rash generalizations about over-caffeinated Americans or over-medicated French people, but interpret this how you will. 

I take back what I said about there being few people who speak English in Aix. Most people are at least able to hold a conversation in English, especially young people. And when I ask “how do you know English so well?” 4 times out of 5, it’s because they watch the television show How I Met Your Mother. Curious? Indeed. It’s not a show that is appealing to me, but it seems to be much more popular abroad. Perhaps that says something for how America is thought of internationally. With the number of Americans also, I could easily spend my entire day not speaking any French. Often I have to make an actual effort to have the opportunity to speak French. 

I have also been told that it is obvious I am American because of my smile. I have often been asked how I got my teeth so white, and even had trouble convincing one French man that my teeth were real.  It seems to me, that dental hygiene in the sense of a sparkling white smile, just isn’t a priority here like it is in the United States. Some foreigners actually poke fun at us Americans by posing for pictures, showing their teeth and calling it “a Colgate White Smile!” Products like Crest Whitestrips just aren’t imported over here, because when I try to explain them no one has had any clue what I am talking about. Or they have very strong opinions of how bad it is for you, regardless of my assurances that I have spoken to my dentist multiple times about the health of my teeth.

But more than the whiteness of my teeth, I have received one of the best compliments ever the other day:  “Your smile made my day. People around here don’t smile like that.” I don’t know what that means exactly, but it sure felt good to hear.

Agape and Agog.

                I am ever amazed at the capacity of man. We seriously short change ourselves. Walk through a few museums, especially the museums here, and you’ll understand what I mean. Even the most dull painting has several hundred brushstrokes, mixed colors, and was created with a steady controlled hand. And take those mural sized paintings which were painted by a hand similar in size to yours. This painting was seen in the mind of a real person of flesh and bones before it was swept into existence on a tangible canvas. Keen eyes and agile wrists, not much different from your own. But creating isn't the half of it. Through modern technology and techniques, we can preserve it hundreds of years later. And just as important is man’s ability to recognize greatness in another.

One of Van Gogh's Bouquet des Fleurs

Gallerie des Sculptures. Eerily beautiful.

Picasso's Marine

 The Musée Granet here in Aix is currently showing an exhibit that depicts this capacity beautifully. It’s called the Planque Collection, and it is basically a number of paintings amateur artist and art enthusiast Jean Planque gathered in his lifetime. He made nice with the big names such as Picasso and Dubuffet, but never himself came out as an established artist. But through a lifelong learning process, starting when he was 19 years old, he learned how to recognize the best of the best in the business of art. He collected works from mostly modern art, with impressionist works from Van Gogh, Monet and Renoir. He had an interest in cubism as well, with works by Léger and Braque. As a pianist, he found art that represented music and rhythm particularly fascinating. 

I found Jean Planque easy to identify with. His story is inspirational to me, because he was my age when he first became fascinated with art. He developed an interest and a talent that led him his whole life, even though technically his occupation was “entrepreneur.” I like being reminded that I have my whole life ahead of me and just because my occupation may say “chemist” or “secretary” or even “sandwich artist,” I can keep cultivating other academic infatuations. Occupation does not define the substance of your soul, and age has nothing to do with the matter. 

A second museum I visited this week was the Fondation Carzou in Manosque. This was simply a chapel, about 650 m2 in area, with high beautiful arching ceilings. On the walls, framed by white molding, were grand murals of Carzou’s “My Apocalypse.” It was basically his take on the Book of Revelation from the Bible. This was fascinating, and pretty powerful also. Granted, there were ugly aspects as he depicted bloodshed and immorality, but he showed virtue and light triumphing. I appreciated his depiction of the capacity of man also, showing man’s creations and visitations to other worlds. He concluded his masterpiece in a hopeful full circle, showing a man and a woman, reminiscent of Adam and Eve, setting out to rebuild the world.  An important detail I rather found appealing and a bit cheeky on Carzou’s part is that the sky remains a constant shade of this happy, unaltered blue. His point was to question the importance of anything man does, or if we’re simply destroying and recreating in futility and really, all this has very little impact. 

I apologize that I cannot truly do any of this art justice with photos or pictures off the web. To capture the full effect, you must experience it for yourself. That’s not a cop out, but rather an encouragement. Go! Go out and see the world! You don’t know how small you are until you open your eyes to the brilliance of man, and in pondering that, witness the glory of God. 

I would be remiss in my scholarship of chemistry if I did not mention the third museum I visited this week. This explored more the scientific intelligence of man and the art of agriculture. And for all those rolling their eyes thinking “Becca’s such a nerd,” halt your judgment! I’m talking about the cosmetics company l’Occitane! That’s about as chic as you can get, folks. Its ingredients are harvested here in the Provencal area, and the factory, museum, and 10% discounted boutique just a few miles outside of Manosque (cue candid smile and catchy jingle). I will not bore you with the facts I pretend to remember from the video about harvesting Lavender we watched, but I will admit to spending a bit too much money on gifts. ;)

God left the world unfinished…the pictures unpainted and the music unsung and the problems unsolved, that man might know the joys and glories of creation. 

Thomas S. Monson