A California Experience

We tend to live in our own country. Whether we are in California or Paris, in our home and in our daily lives, we are in Terry and Sherry country. We speak English and have the same thoughts, activities and patterns no matter where we are.

But, once we step out of our personal cocoon, we have to adjust our thinking and behavior to the culture associated with the place where we're living.

Even so, I rarely have a true "Paris moment" or a true "California moment". These moments, in my mind, are described as typical, even exaggerated notions of the place, the kind of moments that people remember and relay to others. The place gets a reputation for something that isn't part of mainstream life. For example, for the French, it would be rudeness, or indifference or even a big show of emotion. For Californians, it would be the beach life with all its associations, the all play and no work mentality.

I'm a native Californian, and a native of Los Angeles, home of many stereotypes. Yet, my life doesn't involve most of them -- I eat red meat, even veal, which is quite a no-no for many Californians. I have even eaten foie gras. I'm considering buying some kind of fur coat, oh my! Not at all Californian of me.

I am still in the habit of wearing my gym clothes to and from the gym, both in California and in Paris. I'm the only person walking out of the Club Med Gym and down rue de Rennes in my workout clothes and running shoes. I can't seem to do the French thing and towel off, spray some extra deodorant on, put some lotion on, dry my hair and put on my street clothes without taking a shower. They think I'm weird, I'm sure, but I think it's equally unsavory to omit a shower after the workout.

Yesterday, around 3 PM, still in my gym clothes after a mid-morning workout (this IS California, OK?), I went into a new store in our neighborhood. It is a beautiful store, quite large. The owner met me almost immediately and we had a short discussion.

As I was making my purchases, she asked, "what do I do?" To this, I replied that I live in Paris about half the year. The discussion continued. She wanted to know if the French speak any English. To this I replied that the French learn a second language in school, it may or may not be English, but they prefer to speak French.

From here the conversation disintegrated into something only a person from California could even begin to understand. I said that Americans are very "egocentric" and speak only English but other countries know that they need at least two languages.

I guess the word "egocentric" struck some kind of New Age bell in her. From this point, I got a barrage of philosophical thought that even in English I could not understand. A lot of it had to do with metaphysics, which I had to look up in the dictionary to make sure I understood what it meant. I have no idea what she was talking about, but it concerned The Universe, Barak Obama, prayer and meditation, the soul. I couldn't wait to get out of the store, but all this talk had completely halted the sale and packaging of the purchase so I had to wait through another blast of California-talk. I'm sure I could have stopped her in her tracks if I told her that I like fur, eat veal and foie gras and wear gym clothes on the streets in Paris.