Chez Laurence: A French household

What struck me first about my new French home was its bare-bones simplicity. Despite knowing perfectly well that space throughout the rest of the world is not what it is in America, I explored the apartment of my mère d’acceuil with a curious appreciation, aware that its arrangement would have been considered somewhat awkward and even careless in my country. I think this has nothing to do with sophistication and everything to do with cultural attitudes about practicality. Despite a fabulously rich history in the decorative arts, setting standards for artistic movements over centuries, the French tend to be extremely practical when it comes to living space.

Furniture in France has never been formulaically arranged as in the Anglo-Saxon tradition. Born of the feather-light elegance of the 18^th century, there are more groupings of tables and chairs, and less sofa-and-end-table combinations. Pieces float away from the walls in a room, rather than clinging to them. There really is logic to this seemingly odd habit, as – space in Europe being so limited – it’s easier to maximize the utility of furniture by easily moving it around a place as needed. Chez Laurence, chairs from my bedroom have become additions to the kitchen table when extra guests arrive for dinner. The tiny central “living” area in the apartment contains a television, but there are only two small salon chairs for viewing. Is it aesthetically pleasing? Not to an eye trained to see a couch with matching armchairs, horseshoed around an entertainment center. But in a flat with three people, no more than two are ever watching TV in the first place. An unused sofa suddenly seems silly. My bedroom has merely a comfortable double-bed, a desk and chair, and a few small tables. The spare assortment of mismatched furniture seemed clumsy at first, and then I realized how easily the mountain breeze passed through my balcony windows and cooled the apartment, unhindered by clutter.

If human beings were musical instruments, Laurence would be a chime. Her voice is soft, feminine, and liltingly French, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eye that betrays her fun-loving, jolly manner. Theatrical, not dramatic, she bursts with flair, and no story comes without hand gestures. She’s the quintessential French host mom, sending me out for baguette at her favorite boulangerie in Place Notre-Dame, and insists on doing everyone’s laundry and pressing my shirts. Dinners are simple but classic affairs at her heirloom country table, with a charming service of blue-and-white china from her native Alsace.

The cooking is fabulous: naturally fresh and light, but bursting with flavor thanks to her stellar sauce recipes. Naturally, wine and five different cheeses are de rigueur. I could stay at table with her forever, and often do. How does one even think about homework after hours of stories about Nazis occupying the family home during the war?

I think I especially like Laurence because she is – in surprisingly many ways for a woman multiple-times my age, of a different nationality AND gender – much like me. She has many traditional ideas about the way the world should work, and loves to reminisce about the France lived by her ancestors. (Coming from a woman who can trace her family history back to the Middle Ages, I listen intently.) But Laurence also studied and lived in China and Japan, a period in her life that continues to influence her tastes and philosophies. A voracious news consumer, she keeps up with many intelligent radio and TV programs, and always has something new to discuss over tartines (yesterday’s baguette topped with anything from butter and jam to Nutella) and coffee in the morning.

Watching French television with Laurence for the first time was something of a cultural initiation that I didn’t find in Paris, an ordinary woman consuming her nation’s media and reacting to it as only an interested citizen would. Perhaps to help Ruth and I follow the rapid pace of the voice-overs, she whistled and shook her head in disgust at reports of sexual harassment in Egypt, gasping and oh-la-la-ing at an exposé on scam lotteries aimed at senior citizens.

With Laurence's other American: Ruth

Just for fun, here’s a brief compilation of classic expressions chez Laurence. I love these SO much, that I've included pronunciation guides in the videos below.

C’est fou, quoi! – That’s crazy/foolish/insane! (Quoi means “what”…for emphasis. Not unlike the British usage: “That’s jolly, what.”)

Fin – Anyway… (short for enfin: “finally”)

Ohh, je me damnerais pour ça... – I’d kill/give anything for that (literally: “I’d damn myself…”)

C’est génial! – It’s great/fab/wonderful!

C’est sympa, ce truc, hein? – This is pretty neat/cool/fun, right?  

J’sais pas (pronounced shay-pa) – “I dunno.” (familiar register French)

C'est une chose spéciale... - That's something particular... (a slightly negative/worrisome connotation)

And while this is a totally mundane couple of words, used by practically every native speaker, it's my drug:

Ben, oui! - Well, yes!