An American in Paris: Socially Awkward

In other news, I finally went inside Notre Dame and it is, in fact, beautiful. | Photo by Annie White

Social awkwardness is part of the human condition. Some of us are more prone to it than others, to be sure, but no one escapes the menace entirely. I like to think that, after two decades of trial and error, I have reached a point in my life where I am able to go about my daily life without frequent embarrassment. I am an almost comically messy eater and I’m certainly not the most graceful person ever, but nobody’s perfect. In France, however, I have become the kind of person you avoid inviting to dinner parties and hide from if you see them on the Metro.

I blame the lion’s share of this newfound social ineptitude on my absolute least favorite part of French culture: the bisoux, the cheek-kiss greeting that is a vital part of polite behavior in most of Europe, France very much included. I have always been a big fan of a firm handshake upon meeting someone for the first time. This is a pretty universal practice in the US, and it’s hard to mistake the cues that lead to a handshake. If someone walks up to you with their hand stuck out, you aren’t going to think they’re going in for a hug. In France, you usually do the bisoux the first time you meet someone. But – and this is why I dread them so much – not always.

I can’t count how many times I have met someone, and then stood there awkwardly trying to decide if I am supposed to do the bisoux or not. Worse yet, if you happen to forget that you are supposed to kiss the right cheek first, you end up doing a supremely mortifying version of the “which way are you going to walk around the person you just bumped into” dance.  Of course, all of the perceived potential for bisoux-related disaster only makes it more obvious that I haven’t been in France long enough to forget my American distaste for physical contact, which probably makes the French people sorry they introduced themselves in the first place.

Even if I make it past the awkwardness of introductions without scaring my potential new friends off, I will likely find myself caught in the trap that is small talk in a foreign language. My French has improved significantly since I moved here, and I am easily able to navigate shopping, travel, school, and yelling at my phone service provider. Small talk presents a special challenge, though, because the whole point is that you’re not really paying attention. It is for communicating with people you don’t really know, and you talk about things that are relatively uninteresting and unimportant, because you don’t want to offend anyone.

I was recently talking to the grandfather of the kids I babysit and I was responding to most of things he said with “yes, that’s true” while allowing my mind to wander. This strategy appeared to be working for me, until I suddenly realized that I had responded to “I need to exercise more, I’m getting fat” with a strong affirmative. I backtracked, and he seemed to think it was all pretty funny, but I found myself longing for the company of Anglophones, were I would be able to daydream through silly conversations without calling anyone fat, and where I only ever offend people on purpose.

About Annie White

Annie is a senior in CAS studying political science.

View all posts by Annie White →

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *