Getting My French On

Next week we leave on our long-awaited vacation. Julian started planning this trip back in February. (Who, us, obsessive-compulsive?) We’ll be in Hannibal for a few days to visit my family, then we’ll fly to France.

To avoid being a magnet for every scammer and pickpocket in Lyon, Colmar, and Paris, my goal is simple: Don’t look so much like an American tourist. (I can’t disguise my nationality once I start speaking, regardless of how many times Mme. Yolande admonished me to pronounce my R’s properly.) Here are my strategies:

  • Wear scarves. French women rarely leave their homes without one. They don’t take up much space in the suitcase.
  • Wear neutral colors. My hot pink hoodie will stay home.
  • Lose the logos. My Cornell pullovers will also stay home.
  • Keep the sneaker-wearing to a minimum.
  • Bring logo-less mesh or cloth bags to carry baguettes or croissants back to the apartment.
  • Ignore American etiquette, numéro un: Cut meat or chicken with my non-dominant hand. (Pas de problème, I do this already.)
  • Ignore American etiquette, numéro deux: Set the piece of baguette on the table, not the dinner plate.
  • Don’t be seen carrying Rick Steves travel books on the street. Those blue guidebooks instantly target you as a tourist.

I’ll skip the beret and Gauloise cigarettes.

We’ll see how these strategies work with the first test: the Fête des Lumières in Lyon.

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