10 Things I love about France

It's the first of Février in your favorite city

It’s February 1st, and it arrived in the most beautiful manner…

I’ve seen all the memes about January being the longest month ever, yet it seems to have flown by for me. And now, here we are in the shortest month, and I suspect I’ll have the same feeling as Février starts slipping away.

While it’s a North American import, I cannot help but think of Valentine's Day when I think of February. So, in honor of le mois de l'amour, I thought it a great time to reflect on what I love about my adopted country (and city.)

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Ten things I love about France and Paris

It’s hard to consolidate everything I love into a neat little listicle, but it is a great challenge.

1. France makes me work. I have never felt that things came easily. I’ve always felt like I have had to work a bit harder than the rest to make things happen. I can tell you that France (and Paris) has made me work double time to accomplish even the smallest of things (try to return a piece of merchandise to a department store and see what I mean)… But I can also tell you that I have learned to love that journey. Sometimes, the effort you make to achieve something is more rewarding than the achievement itself (I’ll leave you to read this article about the Effort Paradox.)

2. It has taught me to own and use my differences. If you have read my memoir The French Ingredient, there is a passage where someone once told me, “Jane, you will never be French.” And you know what? They were, and still are, correct. Rather than being insecure (even though that still happens), I remind myself that this means I am free from the many cultural codes a local must follow. And, of course, I can always ask for forgiveness rather than permission…

3. It has taught me about the importance of close friendships. They take a while to build, but when you have them, they are deep and long. As an only child, my friends are my chosen family. Who else can I call when things are going topsy-turvey? And while I miss exchanging with strangers at a bar, I find my way to connect with locals. You only need to stand at a bus stop in Paris and start complaining about the tardiness of the buses, and you’ll have instant comrades.

4. It has made me love walking. Most times, if I have a meeting and I know I can get there in an hour or less on foot, I’ll plan to walk. Not only do I need that time to clear my head, but I also use it to plan, imagine, and daydream. But, most importantly, I need that walk to remind myself of how beautiful Paris is—I will admit, I can sometimes take it for granted.

5. It has made me love a spirited debate. Differences of opinion are accepted and respected. A lively discussion is welcomed, even about a topic that may be considered taboo in some other places. I love to know I can have a debate, strongly disagree, and still get up from the table and appreciate and respect the person I was sparring with. You only need to attend a French dinner party to appreciate that.

6. I love that France (Paris in particular) stole my confidence but then returned it to me in a softer, more subtle manner. Living here has made me practice humility while at the same time standing my ground with conviction and strength.

7. France has taught me to live in the middle ground and to appreciate the wonderful complexity of dichotomy. I may break out in a sweat if you ask me to return something to the BVH department store (if you have had this experience, you’ll know exactly what I mean), but at the same time, I’ll be ready for a fierce business negotiation.

8. France and its people made me curious. When you don’t know what you are doing and have more questions than answers, you must learn to observe and be curious. France has taught me to have childlike curiosity. You’ll do best if you pick up most everything (figurately!) and look at it very, very closely - before having an opinion.

9. It has made me appreciate the rhythm of everyday life, from properly acknowledging people to chatting with my vendor at the market to enjoying dinner into the wee hours of the evening. By the way, it has made me love even more that I have a small handful of Midwestern friends here with whom I can have a 6 p.m. dinner.

10. It has not only allowed me but also forced me to do things without having all the answers. In other words, ‘au pif’ (pronounced: oh peef)…

Bonus: It has made me love that even when it is bitterly cold, with a bit of blue sunshine, it’s terrace time! (see all the way below)

Life lessons thanks to Beef, Failure, and doing things Au Pif

Not too long ago, I had a dinner party with a small, intimate group of friends.

As I was planning the dinner, I decided to make a dish I call ‘Beef and Onions and Onions and Onions’. Days before the dinner party, I mentioned to someone close to me that I was going to do my beef dish, and they said to me, “The last time you did that, it was a disaster.” Yes, the French are sometimes brutally honest, and I couldn’t deny it; it was a huge whopping failure.

So, as the beef incident replayed in my mind, I fast-forward to thinking about the folks who would soon be seated around my table ‘enjoying’ my creation. They are dear friends who will always be very generous in supporting me, but they also know food very, very well (like expert well.)

No matter. I decided I would charge ahead and make my beef and onions and onions once again.

Even though I was determined to push ahead, I knew I would risk the same failure all over again. If you read my last newsletter, you’ll know I don’t mind taking risks because I have four elements that help me to do so: curiosity, creativity, courage, and community.

And like with all important decisions (yes, I have come to appreciate how important the menu and, of course, the seating plan are at a dinner party in France), I was worried.

However, I realized that my curiosity was stronger than my worries. I wanted to see if I could get it right. And all the while I was worried, I decided I would be courageous enough to try again. And despite being worried, I decided I needed to be creative enough to put a few controls in place to ensure my recipe had a fighting chance. And while the worry blanketed me with anxiety, I knew my community that would sit around the table would blanket me in love (no matter how it turned out.)

You’ll be pleased to know it turned out just fine. My friends even praised my dish! I fully know that they would have mustered their way through eating no matter what it tasted like (I had this Chevy Chase scene running through my mind the whole time), but it was darn right good.

I’m guessing you know by now that my story isn’t about the Beef. It’s a reminder that we can rewrite our failures, and that is thanks to a pinch of curiosity to see what will happen if you try again, a little dash of courage to give it a try, an ounce of creativity to imagine a new way forward, and a sprinkling of the right community to support you.

Life lesson from a slab of beef and a few onions (and red wine.)

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Where’s the Beef…(recipe)

At this point, you may wonder what the recipe was. If you have followed me long enough, you’ll know that I love food for what it does—it brings people together to commune - and there is no better example of this than a French dinner party.

But as much as I love food, I am totally incapable of following a recipe. Know that I may attempt that beef and onions and onions and onions dish again, and however it turns out, I will do it like I do a number of things, Au Pif.

“On est toujours forcé de donner quelque chose au hasard.” - Napoléon Bonaparte

“We are always forced to give something to chance.” - Napoléon Bonaparte

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Speaking of Au Pif…

As with all French dinner parties, this one was a fountain of knowledge (and wine). It’s thanks to Dorie Greenspan and her expertly tuned and rather elegant pif (slang for the nose), that I stumbled again upon this magical term: Au Pif.

If you look up Au Pif in the dictionary, you’ll find literal translations from the slang used for ‘nose,’ to ‘in the nose’ or ‘by the nose’ to more figurative ‘by chance,’ ‘approximately,’ ‘random,’ etc.

But is anything ever just random? I don’t think so. Nor do I think Napoleon really left much to chance either.

I think a better translation of au pif, in the figurative sense, is: intuitively.

I have had to get very comfortable using my intuition here in France. And I will be the first to admit that this is often my greatest challenge because it means that, in the absence of clear information, I have to rely on and have faith in myself solely.

In my list of the top ten things I love about France, you’ll see that having to make decisions au pif is on the list. But that doesn’t make it easy - and I am still learning to fine-tune it. Sometimes, we love things that are difficult or challenging to us - but perhaps that is why I love France.

So, yes, France has made me live and act intuitively. Why? Because on a number of occasions, I don’t have the answer. I need to see what my pif (nose) tells me to do.

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Speaking of your nose…Your Nez* knows.

*the formal translation of Nose

My dear uncle, who is no longer with us, used to say to me, “Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut,” - a rule I generally follow when I find myself in a new situation.

Sage advice that has served me well. But over the years, I have started to ask, what about le nez, my nose? Where does my nose play in all of this?

When was the last time you looked at that marvelous thing in the middle of your face and thought about it? Could it be that it does so much more than just smell, or in French, sentir?

And enter the magic of la langue française and its many nuances. Sentir is also a reflexive verb that not only means to smell but can also mean to feel.

But what does ‘feeling’ something mean?

In this case, I am stretching a bit to those feelings we have (not health-related), but those mysterious answers that are floating around speaking to us…we often refer to them as our ‘gut.’

It’s those little inklings in our gut or stomach (or maybe our nose) that give us a lot of information and even a bit of direction when we need it. But I think no matter what you call it, it sounds like intuition.

I don’t want you to think I’m the only one who thinks about your pif, or what you smell, or how you feel.

Prof. Sumantra Ghoshal first talked about the concept of ‘The Smell of the Place', and while it is more related to a sense of corporate culture, the important thing is that it is more about how we grasp, interpret, and feel the world around us.

And we do that every day—that’s never the problem. The real problem is that we don’t always listen to those answers within us, and worse when we do listen, we often second-guess ourselves. Usually, we have the answer…even if that answer is to take one small step in a new direction.

Well, ok, maybe we do that because we are confused. So, who is running the intuition show, after all? Our feelings? Our noses? Our gut?

You know by now that I love a bit of magic from the universe to tell me what to do next. But I also know that intuition plays a big part in giving us the answers.

Our intuition is just a reservoir of our past experiences, a little database that sits dormant in our hearts (or maybe in our noses) until they prompt us forward.

It’s up to us to trust them.

A prompt I’ll leave you with:

How can you learn to trust your intuition better?

With that, see you next time. Á bientôt mes amis.

Jane

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Join me in Paris:

Waiting for you here in Paris March 11th through 13th !

Join me on my podcast:

Taking risks need not be hard. Take a listen here. You can find GenerateHER on all major podcast platforms.

Join me on a terrace (today, February 1st!):

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