Comment les États-Unis Dominent la France

Is it October already? Oh how the time flies when you’re in Europe. I think I am getting to the point where it will be odd when I get back to the States, that is to say that I am basically completely accustomed to the French way of life, for better or worse. But, at the same time, I am starting to realize that the United States truly dominates many parts of French culture. Allow me to explain.

Obviously the most overwhelming dominance is in the realm of pop culture. Beginning the first night I arrived and continuing about twice a week, my host family has offered us the chance to watch a movie on their ridiculous home theater system. Unfailingly, most of the choices have been American movies, including last night where Letters from Iwo Jima was a close winner over Punch Drunk Love (similarly, Punch Drunk Love won a pretty big award at the Cannes Film Festival? An Adam Sandler movie winning an award? Really?). The choices have spanned from the 1970s to 2008, but the enormous movie library in our house is well over 50% American movies dubbed in French. Music is another area of American preponderance, although this is not even in French, something I cannot understand. For example, they love the Black Eyed Peas here, similar to America, but how do they have any clue what they are listening to? I guess the solution to that is just dance the night away, and everything will be fine. Finally, we do not have a TV in my house, yes a bit of a problem, but I did finally get my eyes on one the other day, and guess what was on? Friends, dubbed in French. Although, to be fair, the next show on was DragonBall Z, so I think more than anything Frenchies are just lost when it comes to TV.

Clothing is another facet of French culture that is marked by a heavy presence of Americana, yet I cannot understand why. I think I first noticed it this weekend with Brian when we walked by a French store that was selling (for about 20 Euros) a shirt that boldly displayed “South Dakota district team” (or something like that). Now, we came to the conclusion that if you were actually from South Dakota, I’m not sure that you would proudly wear a shirt like that around the streets of Lyon, as you might try to be a little more subtle about your hometown. Other French favorites are flat brimmed baseball hats of random American teams, most notably the Yankees, Dodgers, and Pittsburgh Pirates; these people are unmistakably “cool.” One combo of particular interest to me was a Boston Red Sox hat coupled with an I heart NY shirt (also very popular), which may seem to be of divided baseball loyalties back in the States, but in France, it was clear that this person supports Team America. Final clothing issue of note was that a popular item here is a Franklin & Marshall sweatshirt, which, the first time I saw it, I immediately thought of the small school in Western PA. However, after seeing hundreds of these just in Lyon, and finding the smoking gun of a store sporting it in their window, I realized that this apparently has very little to do with the university, and instead is a popular clothing brand. Still, you have to wonder…

The list goes on. Hotels often sport American flags on their awnings to prove that they are American/tourist/dollar friendly. When you want to be really cool with graffiti, you write it in English. Restaurants will advertise “American” dishes, and sometimes attempt to cleverly name them after states, even if they fail, as in the case of one attempting to label a certain crepe the “Wyoning.” While the UN conference was happening last week, one TV station was advertising that they would show Obama’s speech live, while another French newspaper was mocking Sarkozy for not accepting the fact that France is simply a “middle” nation in terms of importance. Similarly, when my host mother discovered my love for Obama, she immediately raised her respect for me to a new level.

I guess these have all been building on me for a little while, and I had to get them out there, so I apologize for the rant. This all started in class today when someone uncovered the fact that I was American, and was very excited to tell me that she had been to America last year. When I asked her where, she said Texas, Houston to be exact. I responded sarcastically with “Oh, I’m sorry” (loosely translated), and told her that I was not a huge fan of Texas. She seemed crushed. I guess I need to work on my French humor.

I promise to soon enough highlight the differences in French culture that are superior to their American counterparts, as there are plenty. But I’m headed out on a mini-trip this weekend (details to follow), and I went to borrow a movie from the aforementioned video library, and what did fantastic French film did I come up with? Supermal, or translated back to English, Superbad. Oh the French.

(Side note – finally figured out how to set up email subscriptions, so if you want these wonderful works emailed to you each time they are posted, fill in your email address in the box on the right side)

Profitez du Soleil, Pour le Dernier Weekend !

It’s officially the end of summer here in Lyon, but, no worries for the Lyonnais, that is just another reason to celebrate. And no, I am not talking about the recent university-sponsored international student party, although it was pretty cool for me to realize (under the cover of a smoke machine, an epilepsy-inducing strobe light, and a very odd collection of American music) that we were the “exotic” international students on this campus. No, this Lyonnais party involved roller skates, stilts, and berets. Nothing too exceptional about my classes this week, so I will not bore you with coursework details, and instead get right to the fun.

After seeing him (among others) last weekend in Paris, my fellow pre-trip traveler Brian Hwang decided to make it two weekends in a row in France, and on Friday arrived in Lyon, where my host mother was kind enough to allow him to stay at “our” house. Of course, Friday was a gray, cold day in Lyon. Additionally, the metro and bus system has been on strike here since Thursday, but it has not been nearly as exciting as I had hoped. Instead of angry people marching in the streets waving signs and such (and allowing me to join in the fray), this strike has been invisible except for the fact people are now packed at bus stations waiting for the one or two buses that are still operating during the “disturbance.” Quite boring. Anyway, the point is that we could not use the metro to hop between all the sights of Lyon, and instead had to kick it old-school, and took to walking. It was Friday afternoon, the streets were empty, the sidewalk cafes were all closing, and I'm pretty sure Brian was wondering why he had ever left Barcelona for this dreary city.

But then Saturday came along. The sun came out, the temperature rose, and Lyon came to life. We started it off with a lunch with the family, and the meal lived up to the strong reputation that I had promised of my host mother’s cooking. The two of us then set out into Lyon, and obviously started it off by climbing a massive set of stairs up to the very peak of Lyon. From there we walked around the 15^th century Basilica, the roman amphitheatre, and took in the view of the entire city. Feeling relaxed, We eventually made our way back down the hill and meandered over to the center of the city. The party was underway.

Place Bellecour, the center of town, was a beehive of people, and we quickly found that there were a whole host of both wonderful and very French activities underway. First up was the state-sponsored roller skate competition, featuring both “slalom” skaters that were big on style, and later a competitive roller-derby type race around the block (it turns out this was not only a two day event, but also the French national championship!). This of course was accompanied by the obligatory loud/old/bad American music which I’m starting to realize is still very popular in Europe (only 5 years behind the States). Fortunately, the plaza was large enough to hold two celebrations on one day, because at the other end we had the Handicap International group supporting disabled persons and mine victims. The highlight over here was the live French band, mixing rock and big band styles, featuring a singer drenched in sweat, a trombonist, and a poorly dancing clarinet/saxophonist. The French people loved it (see photo). Even though I couldn’t exactly understand what he was trying to say up on stage, I definitely could tell that this guy was pretty successful at working the crowd. We left the square feeling content at having seen (and played an integral part in) a true French festival.

Now, this is Lyon, so of course the craziness did not stop there! We headed down the main walking thoroughfare in Lyon, and came across another band, this time featuring a sousaphone (or two), odd looking costumes, and another large crowd. While not as ridiculous as the band up on stage in Place Bellecour, these folks were still popular with the people, and were a perfect complement to a sunny afternoon. Upon leaving them, however, we ran into the most elaborate production of the day: a parade sponsored by the same Handicap International group that was in the square. At the front were the stilts walkers, trying to reconcile the two issues of dancing to the beat and staying on said stilts. Next in the conga line were the choreographed dancers doing some sort of shimmy that had a couple people in the crowd subconsciously mimicking. Last, but certainly not least was the drum line, all of whom were wearing matching berets! Suffice it to say that after this production, I was ready to buy my own, but somehow I resisted, for now. That did mark the final crazy French thing of the day though, and the two of us headed back up the stairs feeling very cultured for the day.

Tomorrow marks one month since I arrived in Lyon for this grand experiment we call study abroad, and I have slowly come to the realization that I could not have picked a better city for the semester. After being in Paris last weekend and spending this one in Lyon, I continue to be struck by this realization. It is true, Lyon is not a tourist destination, and besides a church and a crumbling theater, we really do not have a lot of historical artifacts. But because of that, this is truly a French city, and instead of being overwhelmed by tourists and not practicing anything but English in Paris, I am getting a French experience. It’s fair to say that Paris is the New York of France, and that Lyon is Philadelphia. For some people that has a bad connotation; but I’m loving Philly right now.