The ideal that every US citizen should have an equal opportunity to achieve success and prosperity through hard work, determination, and initiative.
“He could achieve the American dream only by hard work”
I miss New York. I spent a few days over there, and loved it. Nobody commented on my French accent, and it felt, well, refreshing. Not to mention that I ran every day to train for the 100k in September (you can read all about it here: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Muriel-Demarcus). I saw the city in a new light. I especially liked the Hudson river at 6 am. The light was amazing, right?
I felt right at home. The food was great. As usual, I was struggling with the size of the portions (they were huge!!!), and I have to be more mindful of what I am eating now, but hey, life is to be enjoyed, right?
Let’s face it: holidays with kids are not real holidays. What am I talking about? Well, I can’t completely relax when I have to take care of the children every day. And don’t get me started about having to pick them up late at night (or staying up late waiting for them to come back, just in case something happens). It’s simply nerve-racking. It feels like everybody else but me is on holidays, and I hate it, because I have no time for me. None whatsoever. I am dreaming of going to a desert island for at least six months. On. My. Own.
But I digress. When I was growing up, we were watching TV or wandering about with very little supervision. Come to think of it, my parents were incredibly lucky that we were not offered drugs, or anything more sinister than the odd cigarette (which I rejected. I was such a good girl, right?). My parents simply didn’t have a clue. It was a different time, I suppose. Maybe I am becoming overprotective, but I want to be more cautious with my children. Since I caught a classmate of my younger daughter watching some porn videos on her iPad while waiting for her parents, I realised that it was time to up my game. The fact that I didn’t grow up with tablets, iPhones and the likes wasn’t an excuse. But let’s admit it: it didn’t make my task any easier. That said, I felt that I had no choice because I almost passed out when the little girl proudly explained that she had seen two women having sex together (and she gave some graphic details that, if you ask me, were far too much for her age). Maybe, despite being French, I am a prude at heart. I had a quiet word with the parents who found the whole episode hilarious but hey, each to their own, I guess (for the record they were British. So much for all the cliches).
I have had a full-on year. Come to think of it, I have a full-on life. It just never stops. But right now I have taken the whole family to a hamlet in Provence. The Internet connection –when it works- is patchy, which means that I am enjoying a much-needed break.
I love it here. The light is nothing short of spectacular, the colours are perfect, and I am pleased to report that my daughters are finally starting to enjoy Provence. The problem is, well, me.
What am I talking about? Well, I am suffering from a bad case of reverse culture shock. Why? Well, where to start? The driving of my fellow Frenchmen is terrible (simply put, speed limits are never respected. I wonder if they are for the birds?). As for customer service, well, it seems that nobody knows what it is. I asked for a glass of water at a local coffee, and of course it never came. Not to mention that I got told off because the waitress had forgotten half of our order. “No, you didn’t tell me.”, she said. Of course it was my fault. Since when is it allowed to be aggressive towards customers?