à ma mère (to my mom)

i want to state at the outset that i am aware of two biases that significantly influence this piece:
1. obviously i think MY mom (left) is the coolest
2. not being a mother myself, i can't possibly imagine all the concerns that overwhelm expat motherhood


BUT STILL . . .

this morning i headed out to the paris suburbs for a class on white wines. i was a bit wary of the class to begin with because it was taught in english and because it was in the burbs. but i talked myself into it. it was a good deal for a wine tasting (with lunch and lunch recipies included), and i don't know much about the paris suburbs so why not check them out.

what i saw from the train and the short car ride, the area to the west (specifically st cloud and etang la ville), was quite beautiful. it's a perfect autumn day here, so changing leaves are glossed by rain; vines climbing up walls of houses have turned bright red; and the quaint green gardens and lawns represent a quieter life than could ever be achieved on rue mazarine. in between long gazes out the window and reading le monde (yay iphone!) on the way out, i developed high hopes for new friends - someone with whom i could explore the paris banlieue.

instead, i met some of the saddest expat individuals i hope to ever encounter. every single woman there had put her children in the American School of Paris, which means these children are not receiving a bilingual education. WHAT A WASTE! i moved a few times as a kid and readily admit that i created my fair share of drama about it - so i understand that moving, especially to a foreign country, would be difficult. but kids adjust and ultimately we realize and appreciate how our parents' decision to push us beyond our comfort zone is ultimately one of the greatest gifts they can give us. and what greater realm of uncertainty, yet greater gift in today's world, is there than becoming bi- or multilingual?

the approach these women had toward their children's education was reflected in their own lack of enthusiasm for learning french. i had several conversations with individuals who almost whined "ohhhh but it's so easy to just speak english." i wanted to cry. these are the women i hear in the marketplace who insist on speaking in english to ask for green beans or turkey breast. i can understand that speaking a foreign language might be intimidating. but really, really, the vocabulary needed to function at a basic level in the market, at the store, in a train station is not so overwhelming. frankly, i found their apathy and timidity revolting.

it should be noted that, while all the french people i've met here generally fit my demographic, most of the expats i've met are older, sometimes significantly, and all have children. it was not until today that i was discouraged by a new aquaintance. a special shout-out goes to lauren and nida, two super-cool moms living in the 7th - and when i say living i mean living. they're doing their darndest to get their kids speaking french, if not in french schools; they work on their own french skills; and they profitent of Paris flea markets, parks, cafes, etc. to the fullest. these are the kind of women i admire, and who i hope might turn into interesting life-long friends.

i have dedicated this entry to my mom, and i don't want to go without saying why...

there is no shadow of a doubt in my mind that if my mom had had the opportunity to move her two kids to paris, she would have jumped at the chance. she would have had us in bilingual or immersion schools. she would have spent hours roaming the markets, not just learning french but making friends with the butcher and the cheese guy. if she had to live in the burbs she would have day-tripped to paris - even if it meant struggling with a stroller and potty-training in cafe bathrooms. as it was, my mom made sure i had the best french teacher in the world and that i collected more recyclable cans than should be legally possible so i could pay for my first trip to paris 12 years ago.

god bless bold mothers.

(mom and me at top of whistler)