Lift Up Your Hearts!

We just returned from a dream vacation in Europe—hmmm, that sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it?  But it's true.  It had all the earmarks of a great vacation—visiting with family and friends, wonderful weather, awesome food, more to see and do than we could take in—plus a view of other countries and cultures from the inside, and a stay at at fairy tale castle to boot!

Li'l Writer Guy went quite crazy, having so much to say and no time nor opportunity to say it.  I trust he will be able to deciper his hastily-scribbled manuscripts and produce both chronological description and commentary while I'm unpacking and trying to catch up with "normal" life.  In the meantime, here are some random thoughts inspired by our trip.  Bear in mind that we only experienced small parts of France and Switzerland (and a minuscule portion of Germany), though I will occasionally use the terms "Europe" and "European" for convenience.

The last time I was in Europe (France, Switzerland, northern Italy, and England) was in 1969.  One of my vivid memories from then was the great variety of toilet paper I encountered, all of it unpleasant:  I catalogued waxed paper, brown paper bag paper, almost anything scratchy and non-absorbant short of corn cobs and banana leaves.  (I was in high school and given to odd amusements.)  This trip, I'm happy to say, was quite a different experience; all the paper was effective and skin-friendly.  Sad to say, there were none of Japan's cool toilet styles, but all were clean and easy to use, though we did encounter quite a variety of flushing mechanisms that were sometimes a bit tricky to discern, from a button on the floor to pull-levers to ones that blended in with the toilet tank to big flush/little flush choices.

I've heard a lot about European rudeness, especially to Americans and especially in Paris, but that was not our experience at all.  We encountered one rude Parisian taxi driver, and one Parisian bus driver was a bit abrupt—he had some excuse, since I later realized I'd asked him, not how long it took the bus to get to the train station, but how often it went there.  Other than that, everyone was exceedingly friendly and helpful, and more than patient in attempting to communicate in French, even though their English was much, much better than my French.  I'd say the same for Janet/Switzerland/German, except that her German is quite good by now.  That reminds me—there was one waitress in Luzern who was impatient even with Janet's German, but we were in a touristy place.  In general we followed this most excellent advice giving by a friend, and had a lovely experience:

Whatever you do, avoid cafes that have big menus in English. This is where tourists get their ideas that Parisians are rude. Parisians are lovely...tourist waiters are rude (same as anywhere). So, if you have an amazing view of a monument, a big menu in English, and the sodas are 6€ each, you're in the wrong cafe.

We were only gone two weeks, but still experienced culture shock upon returning.  I'm not going to go on a Europe is good, America is bad rant.  There are aspects of each culture that enchant, and those that appall.  One thing that saddened me upon our return was how unfriendly America must seem to visitors.  For one thing, when we landed in Chicago, everything was in English except an initial welcome sign.  I'm all for English as the one official language of the United States, but it shouldn't be so hard for visitors to find their way through the confusing maze of entering this country.

A vistor could also be justified in thinking his reception rude.  No smiles from the officials, no small talk, just suspicious looks and gruff, businesslike grunts, single words, and gestures.  "Welcome home," I thought grimly.  After rechecking our bags post-Customs, we lingered to examine the information board for the gate of our connecting flight.  There was a man there whose job was to give out that information, which was good, except that he said it in such a curt way we felt as if all he wanted to accomplish was to get us out of the way.  The trouble was, the gate he told us did not correspond with the gate on the board.  He was not happy when we pointed this out, and rudely informed us that the flight was delayed.  Did I say rudely?  Well, I thought so at the time.  But as we were walking away, I said "Thank you," and the man reached out for my arm, saying in a much softer and friendlier voice, "Thank you.  I was giving out the wrong information."  I don't think he had meant to be rude at all, and probably the other officials didn't either.  It's too bad they came across that way.

There was one encourging sign upon reentering the U.S.  Among the many lines at Passport Control ("U.S. Passport Holders and U.S. Residents," "Visitors," "Wheelchair," "Military," "Flight Crew") was one specifically labelled "Refugees."

Another reentry shock was noise.  Sheer volume.  A bevy of teenage girls talking at shriek-level.  Background music everywhere.  Everything, in general, at high decibels.  No wonder Americans are so stressed.  If Europe (our small glimpse of it, at least) was anything, it was quiet.  Nearly every restaurant in which we ate had no background music, and the patrons were consequently quiet as well, being able to converse without shouting.  Even in the cities, even in Paris, the general volume was much less than in the U.S.  Sheer bliss!

On the other hand, smoke was as pervasive there as noise is here.  In an unpleasant reminder of what eating out was like here 30 years ago, we had difficulty finding restaurants where cigarette smoke did not diminish the pleasure of the meal.  (Come to think of it, this is still true in North Carolina.)  If Europeans are generally more health conscious than Americans, this is a strking exception.

Lawyers have not yet ruined Europe.  We climbed all over the Münster Cathedral tower, a feat that would have insurance companies shrieking "lawsuit" here at home.

Polticians, on the other hand, have done damage that is so pervasive the natives don't even realize it.  Socialism is deeply ingrained.  They speak proudly of their "free" or heavily subsidized social programs, heath care, education, and transportation, while taking for granted punitively high taxes, and not acknowledging that the system is in many ways unravelling, nor counting the heavy cost exacted on freedom of choice.  France's free day care system must sound ideal to some, but to me it screams that families who are already sacrificing so that mothers can be home to rear their own children must pay so that other families can have two incomes.

European food has ruined me!  Specifically, bread.  I used to think we generally ate good bread in our family:  homemade bread, bread from the bakery section of the store, 100% whole wheat sandwich bread.  But I came home to find that the Publix bakery French bread that I thought was so good now tastes like Wonder Bread.  :(  More than that, the texture is wrong.  In France and Switzerland, even the white bread fights back a little when you chew it.  I was excited to find blood oranges at a local specialty store, but this California variety was dry, mealy, and bland compared with what we enjoyed in Basel (which came from either Spain or Israel, I forget which).  Unpasteurized milk is legal to buy in France (though we didn't have any), and organic milk no more expensive than the ordinary kind.  This trip did nothing to diminish my belief that Americans eat too much because we're trying to make up with quantity for lack of quality, searching for the flavor we know should be in our food.

That's enough for this post.  Li'l Writer Guy needs to step aside in favor of Li'l Housekeeper, or some such mythical being....