Saturday, July 12, 2008

Les Mariages

To continue the toilet paper theme, the subject of my world traveler's guide is going to be a detailed and comprehensive survey of the world's loos. Yes, because the sanitary facilities of every place are very important, are most of the time necessary to visit, and culturally indicative of the values and priorities of each country. In the case of France, or at least in Aix, it seems one of their priorities is colored toilet paper. Especially when the bathroom is nasty. Let's say you have a little bathroom that doubles as a janitor's closet off the basement stairway in a somewhat sketchy internet café/bar. It's small. It's dirty in the way that it can't possibly be cleaned. There isn't any soap for your hands, nor any semblance of paper or fabric towels. There is a tiny waste basket and a hole in the wall. There is, however, a charming little wooden shelf with green leaves of painted iron. The seat on the toilet is pink, and so is the toilet paper.

This bathroom is not unique. I have seen others like it, where they add little aesthetic touches to make what would otherwise be a highly unpleasant experience more palatable. It would be like going into a dirty gas station bathroom and finding a nice bouquet of flowers. It could happen. But it's not the norm. Here, it seems more of an expectation. And the result is, you get so charmed, it doesn't occur to you how nasty the grime is at the bottom of the toilet. Or you see it, but you say, 'It's ok, they have pink toilet paper.' At least, it makes it better for me. I appreciate the effort. I give the toilets in this country four stars. Maybe even five. Much better than Italy, where most of the time, you didn't even have a seat, because they would be stolen.

Which leads me to my next topic: weddings. Actually, it doesn't lead me to that topic at all, but it's the next topic I want to write about, so I am making a segue. They have a lot of weddings here in the summer. It's a popular activity. Getting married. Having babies. The French like love, what can I say? But you knew that already.

Every weekend, the city has several weddings in various locations. There is one square downtown that almost always has a wedding party in it, by the old arch with the clock. There is also a park that is popular for wedding ceremonies. That's where I saw one today. But even before that, just as I was arriving downtown, there was a wedding procession going around the big fountain at the Rotonde Jean d'Arc, which is the main intersection at the center of town. There were cars honking all over the place. Passing mopeds would beep and wave. Guys were leaning out of the windows in their red or white jackets, the cars decorated with bows and ribbons, honking air horns and cheering profusely. I stopped and sat for a while, just to watch. They went around one, two, three, four, probably five times. It was hard to tell who was in the procession and who was just honking. Even one of the city buses started getting on his horn for them. I think it was the number 2. It was brilliant.

Later on, as I was on my way to the park to sit and read, there was, of course, another wedding. They have weddings there a lot. As I approached, I could hear cars buzzing around and honking as I walked up a little side street. And the next thing I knew, one of the cars arrived and turned down the same street, coming right towards me. It was red and had about four guys in it. I stepped aside. They saw me, honked the horn, cheered, and waved like crazy, with huge grins on their faces. Not lascivious, just very happy. A moment later, a second car passed and did the same, one guy waving a big chiffon ribbon out the window. I have to say, it's impossible for anything to seem wrong in your life when people are, passing you in a car and cheering at you because they are just so ridiculously happy that two people got married. It's like, hey, I'm happy, too. I am happy even though I don't know these people. It's just a great thing. The pure joy is contagious. It's amazing.

But back to the buses. I now believe that France is the best country, and French is the best language. I don't mean that in a strictly superior sense, because maybe it's not the best in every possible way, but for me, out of all the countries I've seen, I like it the best. There are just so many endearing details. Like the way old ladies smile at you on the street. Or, for example, the buses. When a bus here is not in service, it does not say on the front 'hors de service.' No. It says, 'Je ne suis pas en service.' I am not in service. It's like the bus has a personality. The bus drivers are there and they are real people. And there is nothing I love more than listening to the drivers speaking French over the CB radio about the traffic. I don't know why I get such a kick out of it, but I do.

I want to learn more French. The longer I stay here, the more I realize that even though I have reasonably good basic skills, I have nowhere near the vocabulary or grammar knowledge to pick up a lot of nuance, or even a lot of information, never mind express my ideas, though I can get by. Maybe now I will be inspired to become more fluent. Being here has been good practice. It's been a good time. I am glad I came.

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