Instead, I will talk about love. (Cliche.....)
Recently, my three year old started school. Real school. One with security, canteens, playground, within close proximity to hairy teenagers with earphones who smoke right outside the school gates, real classroom where they don't take shoes off, real teachers who will not feed them lunch, etc. He experienced for the first time there are other earthlings who don't behave like him, who don't share the same taste in games/clothes, who don't appreciate the way he was, not because he was the odd one out. There were 26 of them. "And they are all unique and different". Remarked the class teacher.
Everyday he needs to negotiate those differences between him and his classmates. They are only three years old.
For most of us, at the early stage in our lives, the only way to go about things is MY way. Later, you need to
learn to tolerate your classmates like what my son is currently going through. (e.g. According to my son. One boy has different communication method apparently: "He bite, not punch". One girl has her (different) way of establishing friendship: "She don't like boxing..."
Then you learn to give concession to friends (either out of pure amitie or simply a technique to survive at school, against the bullies you need some allies), relatives ( because your parents say so, it is nice to be nice),
colleagues ( so they don't back stab you, but they still do anyways). You have to put up with
politicians who try to convince you that the way they are doing things are for your "good". You have to put up with the neighbour's cooking the ordor of which is not what you are used to. Once in a while, you go on a well deserved holidays, and on the 10- hour- flight there is a family sitting right behind you who yell at each other with earphones on and snort every time Adam Sandler fell into the pool in his wig. The list goes on.
Despite all there is that is different from you and you have to struggle to negotiate that difference - in the name of love - you found yourself with a person from the opposite end of the earth -figuratively speaking, who speaks in an alien language (which indeed has been recorded in writing for thousands of years but you just never hear it spoken before), thinks in an illogical manner ("do you give present which you like to the person you like or do you give present which that person likes"), does not react to your favorite song when you were a teenager (not everyone is a fan of Johnny Holliday outside of France), calls your 90- year-old grandma by her first name (which no one does since her husband passed away 60 years before), pats your father on the shoulders after beating him in a game of chess (ouch!). I am not even getting into the relationship where one converts to the other's religion. The simple cultural difference is difficult enough to have your love for each other tested, over and over, on a daily basis.
"Where was the orange zest that I cut out?" HE was looking around furiously as the sauce was getting warmed up.
"What orange zest?" HE was getting boiled up like the sauce itself.
"The orange skin I cut out" oh, that little pile of "rubbish" that I diligently cleared up every time he was in the kitchen.
"I can't make canard d'orange without the skin!!!" ooops.... since when skin is used in making the sauce? I was just trying to help and keep the kitchen clean.......
I am amazed and (at the same time relieved ) when I see around me couples of different cultures: histories, linguistic origins, skin colours, religions, dress code, table manners, diplomas, eating habits (three meals each lasts 2 hours vs 5 meals each lasts 20 minutes including but not limited to a stroll in the night market at 10pm), neighbours (having 200 families living in the same building vs. nearest neighbour living 200 km away), use different credit cards (ever seen couples fighting at petrol station to accumulate points on their card?)/search engines (which one is faster by 1/100 seconds)/smart phones (Apple vs Samsong - the war is on!), hold different airline memberships (again, points accumulation), enjoy different sport game (e.g. rugby vs not-rugby), different past time (shopping vs not shopping; seeing parents - in- laws every Sunday vs. Not seeing parents-in-laws every Sunday), different ambitions in life ( "would be nice to have a son who does law, while the other does medicine" vs. "hope they don't squat at my house after college like I used to at my parents'"), etc, etc.
"I don't know how you manage," his high-school friend, Jean, laughed at our "orange sauce" episode, "I feel already uncomfortable to be a few kilometres away from St. Germain des pre. My whole life is right here in this quartier. My wife and I went to the same schools. We have been together for 10 years"
Jean looked all comfortable. Leisurely slicing away the baguette at a Saturday brunch.
"What are you doing? How many time in the past ten years have I told you not to cut the baguette with a knife". Jean's wife walked in the salon with the salad.
(Note: Some old fashioned families insist on breaking the bread with hand).
Rambouillet forest
Once on a lovely afternoon in "search for" the domain of Rambouillet, we were lost but naturally he would not admit it. In the pretext of showing me the industrial zone and housing projects in the greater Parisien suburbs, we kept driving as we were too cautious to stop and ask for direction. The temperature inside the vehicle was building up to a boiling point like the orange duck sauce. Topics of discussion gradually shifted from the planned romantic picnic in the forest, to respective ability to interpret a map, to unwise decline of in-law's lunch invitation (which would have save the whole exercise of the long drive), etc......
Finally we cleft the industrial zones and arrived at a small village with three cottages, a church and, as if waiting to help lost tourists from Paris, an old couple strolling with their dog. It was a tableau featuring the most quintessential French countryside: rays of sunlight shimmering through the branches of oak trees, fluffy white clouds, corn fields, you can smell peace and love. The couple were in their 70's. Dressed in the same style and color, walked in the same pace; they were holding each other's hand, approached our car with the same subtle smiles.
"Of course, just continue on this road, turn to your right at the second roundabout....."
before the husband could finish.....
"What non-sense!" the wife scolded him, "you want them to be lost? They should keep going until they reach the highway, where they can then follow the sign".
"yes, but....." the man tried to get another word in to no avail...even the dog looked up at him with the look of "why even bother?"
"Listen, all you need to do is keep going until the regional highway, where you can see the sign...." she was all smiles, "and don't listen to my husband, who knows how many tourists he'd sent to the deep forest in the past decade". I like her sense of humor.
One thing that is universal in all cultures, after my decades of experience, is this:
1. Madame wants to be right.
2. Sometimes Monsieur as well.
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