Provençal people, food, dialect, blah blah...

I leave tomorrow for Aix and I’m a little relieved for things to go back to ‘normal.’ This week has been good though, I’ve spent a lot more time in Myself than I usually do. I’ve meditated every day, written out and focused on my goals for the future, and tried very consciously - all day long - to rid my brain of unhealthy thoughts. I’ve also studied my ass off, which is always a treat. Hopefully I can continue this pattern when I merge it with my life back in Marseille/Aix as well as my next life in America.

Sooooo.....Provence! My home. Kinda. Wanna know a little about it? K! You're at the right place. Lucky you.

The south of France is an interesting place. People here tell me it’s like the ‘Florida’ of America, that people come here to retire because the weather and the pace of life are so nice. I think it’s also a little like Florida in that people dress a little tackier than the north. Parisians call it “vulgare chic” - the mother in the schoolyard I described a few weeks ago is the poster child for it - strong makeup, damaged/overly-styled hair, tight clothes, short skirts, flashy jewelry, ‘just-had-2-glasses-of-white-wine-look’, etc. Of course this is only a small part of the population, but it sure does stand out. It kind of reminds me of how Miami people dress, like they’re in a constant state of trying to get laid. The other 85% of the population is quite respectable and wear clothes that are similar to Americans who have decent style. Black and simple forms are worn all the time, which is the aesthetic equivalent of a comfort food like macaroni and cheese for me. The clothes lay nicely too; the stereotype of most Europeans being slender rings true here just as anywhere in the region. You have your occasional heavyset person, but not to extremes, and it’s not common. This must be attributed to diet and not exercise because I hardly ever see people running or walking for fitness’ sake.

People who work in stores or businesses can sometimes be bitchy or unhelpful. This is true. But more often than not, if you ran into those same people on the street or at a dinner party they’d be most accommodating and polite. I’ve experienced this on numerous occasions: climbing St. Victoire and randomly stopping to chat with people who gave advice on the best routes and the history of the area, chatting with people at the museum of have more insight than the labels provide, making friends while standing in line for a movie, etc. And then getting to the front of the movie line only to have a frazzled employee scream at everyone to restructure the lines and that a certain movie is sold out and could we please exit the building if we had planned on seeing that. All you people out there who have worked in service/retail before? These people act exactly like you wish you could act; telling people off if they are ignorant and muttering profanities if need be. This is relegated to a few stores/people but quite comparable to the service you might receive at a Shell gas station on W. 10th if the attendant could tell you how they really felt. I don’t mind though. I only interact with them for a few moments out of my day. The fact that your average passerby would love to stop and give you directions or the time is much more important to me.

Workers here feel they have an innate right to protest, and they exercise this right quite often. If they aren’t happy with the conditions at their job, they band together and picket. Just last week my favorite classmate (the 40-something New Zealand lady) had to leave early to bring her child food at school because the cafeteria workers, or food deliverers or something, were on strike. Kind of a pain in the ass, I’m sure, but probably kind of nice knowing the people have the power to change things when they’re not happy.

The accent is quite interesting here too. I could pick up on it after only a few days. It’s mostly in the pronunciation of the end of the word; they tend to hang on to the letters at the end, even if they aren’t usually pronounced. ‘Petit’ is ‘Puh-TEE-TUH’, ‘Arrête’ becomes ‘Ah-REH-TUH’, ‘Mah(r)- SAY-YUH, etc. It’s as if to say “I have all day to do this - I’m gonna drag these words out and let them drip like honey, just to remind you, with every word I say.” While the locals are proud of their colloquial uniqueness, the rest of the country doesn’t regard it quite so highly. This is hilariously illustrated at several dinnertime banters when the 2 year-old exhibits this behavior already, much to the dismay of the Paris-born Pierre.

The ingredients in the food here are the first to be mentioned, but I’ve already done that too many times (the oils, olives, fruits, veggies, etc). The next most interesting part of the food is that it isn’t seasoned much. The southern French believe that a lot of seasoning is a cover-up for low-quality ingredients, like in Indian food. This may or may not be true, but it’s interesting. Little else is used besides garlic, thyme, and other provençal herbs. Food is rarely salted in preparation because each person pours on the salt to his or her taste at the table. It certainly makes you conscious of how much salt goes into your body. I love eating here, and I like that dishes are not put out on the table at the same time; they come out in stages so the dinner is longer and your body has more time to digest. I now fully support the ‘cheese as dessert’ agenda, and it is practical because you wind up eating less. Boy is it tasty with 15 year-old wines made right in my ‘homeland’ (as of now, anyway), Bouches-du-rhône. And mom - you better get ready to eat ratatouille every day when I get back because it’s all I’m making. Seriously.

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