Bonjour
Just back from sixteen days astride a bicycle through a good many of the steeper regions of France. Often in the shadow of the Alps and the pro peloton of the Tour De France. Talking of shadows, yesterday’s charges leveled at Floyd Landis, the Pennsylvanian who eventually won and who I saw in stirring technicolor action are long and dark indeed. Needless and baseless, I trust.
In the process of broadening the mind and revelling in the pure escapism that travel allows, in the reinvention of oneself and the enjoyment of there being no preconceived ideas of who you are or may be, there are those moments when you make the inevitable comparisons between cultures. The ones sure to annoy someone, somewhere and without fail. The simple greeting of bonjour or bonsoir is the one that readily lent itself to such and prompts from me a passing opinion.
While in France I do not recall a single occasion when in passing another person on the street, in a store, in a cafe or awaiting a refill at the village water fountain, wether I was on foot or on a bicycle the polite refrain directed my way was always “bonjour”. It took me a day or two to realize that I also could lead in this if I so wished and always the cheerful reply would come back. Always! Not only was it always returned but it always sounded friendly and genuine. Male or female, young or old it made no difference. They had me pegged as an incomer. Of that I am sure. Hence all the more revealing.
This stands in marked contrast to regular morning meanderings through my own neighborhood here in Oregon. For every person I politely join in greeting there will be three that ignore me. Heads down, consumed with a sour countenance. Some even cross the street to avoid a proximity that might engender a courtesy.
It is not like we are lost in the madding crowd nor in “the ‘hood” marked by trash, graffitti and the burned out hulks of cars. Nor do I have any obvious “Jack The Ripper” tendencies or Leprosy. Rather we are lakeside, where early rising Golden Retrievers get to bark at waking Ospreys as the latter leave towering Firs on a breakfast hunt. Where mansions stand drapped in Wisteria and owners of myriad Mercedeses venture out in slipper and robe to save the Wall Street Journal from a further soaking as lawn sprinklers oscillate with the liquid sounds of summer.
Are we that busy? That threatening? Have we ventured so far from our roots that we can no longer greet a fellow being. Is this a further erosion of common courtesy? Granted, we all have our peculiarities and the French (I can only assume) have theirs. They must, we rib them mercilessly. This courteous observation to their fellow man is not among them. Bonjour, conjoined with their care free attitude, their smoke and drink till they drop, joie de vivre allows the appearance of leading a happier and therefore longer life than those more dour and hurried.
Bonjour, good morning or even the simple hi. Such a simple touch, adding immeasurably to the overall feeling of well-being and of belonging to a worthwhile culture.