Only in France Part III

This place never cease to amaze us with its idiosyncrasies!

- One of it came to surface today when Sophie was invited to a playdate at a fellow Malaysian family's place.  The first time Sophie was invited to a birthday party a few months ago, I took her to her classmate's house, expecting some tete-a-tete with other mothers while the children played in some other corner of the house.  I showed up at the apartment, the parent opened the door with a smile, took my child from me, said "You can pick her up at 5pm", and then closed the door on me.  I did not even literally step into the apartment.  I left with a head full of question marks, half of which is related to what I am going to do for the next 4 hours.  I spent it in the nearby pharmacy.  Needless to say, I was starting to worry the sales ladies there, but I did leave with many potions and bottles of things I will need in the next 12 months, so I hope that made up for it.  

The next time Sophie was invited to another party, we showed up, produced the child, and left immediately.  No more skulking around, wondering if we'd be asked inside for a rest or a chat.  Same thing happened when we invited her friend to our place for a playdate.  

So today, with the same expectations in mind, I sent her to her Malaysian classmate's house, left some instructions, and then proceeded to leave.  But the parents protested, invited me to sit for a while, and then plied me with keropok (deep fried prawn crackers), rojak (Malaysian fruit salad), durian, ice-cream, hot sweet teh (tea), relaxed conversation, and I passed more than 3 hours without realising it.  When I reported it to YL later, he said, "that's Asian hospitality, lah".  Oh yah, that's what it was.  I'd forgotten all about it.   

- The French have a sure way to defeat all foreigners who decide to make France their home.  Just look at what they make you do when taking photos for official documents, e.g. passports, driving licenses, medical cards, etc.  It is FORBIDDEN to smile or even reveal a sliver of your teeth in these photos.  Those ubiquitous photo booths you find in every metro station which Parisians use to take such photos gives very specific instructions that you DO NOT smile in your picture.  There are many sample photos of smiling people with a big red X over their faces so you cannot claim that you did not understand those instructions in French.  Heck, you are even given the chance to take three versions of your photo and then choose the most un-smiling one because smiling is a crime here.  

So even the most dreamy, delighted French-wannabe is reduced to a miserable, wretched, pursed-lipped, fugitive in their official papers.  Have you ever wondered what we would look like as terrorists?  Or if we were possessed by aliens?  Or if we were a family of undead zombies?  Wanna look at our French identification papers?

- French is supposed to be a beautiful language, and the people who speak them, charming, cultured and classy.  But somewhere there is a gross misconception, because the French also routinely makes juvenile unbecoming faces and sounds in their daily speech.  They voice their indignation with pfffhh, they roll their eyes and shrug their shoulders, they twitch their lips into exaggerated angles, and - what I find most disconcerting - blow loud raspberries with very distinct vibrating pouty lips, accompanied by a spray of saliva.  Sometimes they also make sounds that can be best described as someone farting.  These are  well-coiffed, well-dressed, professional men and women.  I cannot deal with these incongruent images.  But the next time I make farting sounds or spray you with my saliva when we chat, please do not despise me.

This video proves that I am not making this up...