This 12th was a particularly lazy day. By the time I got out of bed, it was already lunch time. So I eschewed baguettes and croissants for a tasty ham and gouda panini made with our panini maker. With a side of Colbert.

This photo was taken at nearly 4 in the afternoon; my roommate and his girlfriend, a Spanish assistant from Colombia who also works in our académie, were still in their pajamas, working on spring vacation plans.

My somewhat cluttered room has been adorned with even more maps from my Italian voyage.

The reason we stayed inside most of the day was the unpleasant weather; for the past week we’ve had unseasonably chilly, rainy, and very windy weather. This is the backyard at our house under grey skies.

In the evening, we took a bus into town on our way to another assistant’s apartment for dinner and a get-together.

Assistants and the apéritif.

Tayson’s tasty fried rice with Chinese sausage. We gobbled this up pretty fast.

And a delicious tapioca pudding with banana for dessert.

Alice shows off her scarf.

Jorge reenacts an anecdote involving his French flatmate and a joke about white flags.

The beautiful fountain at Place de la Liberté (notice the similarity to the Statue of Liberty?) on our way to the bus stop.

Sam, one of the British assistants, lounges with natural class as we ride the night bus back home.

I began this Saturday the 12th with a walk to the bus stop, on my way to rendezvous with another assistant.

Our destination was Bandol, an upscale seaside town to the west of Toulon. When we arrived, the market was in full swing, including this enticing assortment of cheeses.

I captured this typically French scene at a café in Bandol’s pleasant Place de la Liberté.

Pastel Provençal colours abound on the side streets.

Another shot of the market as the sun started to come out.

On the western edge of town we stumbled upon the Plage de Rènecros, a circular beach with bright blue water.

Fellow assistant Alice payed homage to the scene by making some very nice watercolours.

I’m not exactly sure what these are, but I’m guessing some kind of jellyfish.

Another of Alice’s oeuvres.

Waiting for the train back to Toulon.

Later that evening, I met up with another assistant and her French friend to see The King’s Speech (poster on the far right) in version originale (non-dubbed). A very good film indeed.

After the movie, my friends and I headed across the street to Mezzo, a fast food pasta place that I’d never been to before. A bit more pricey than I’d expect, but a very tasty way to end the day.

A) Wait a bit for the cashier to finish, make eye contact with you and exchange greetings
B) Wait a short time and then politely say “Hello” to get the cashier’s attention
C) Immediately and loudly say “Hello!” as soon as you walk through the door

As an American, my intuitive response is A), unless I’m convinced the cashier is simply ignoring me, in which case I might opt for B). I think it is generally considered good manners in America to wait a bit and let the worker finish their task before interrupting them. However, I have found that waiting to make eye contact with the cashier before saying hello is simply not the norm in French culture; in fact, it can be considered quite rude.

The French almost always choose option C). According to the mysterious unwritten but universally accepted 876,324 rules of French propriety (rule #127,533 I think), it is customary to say “Bonjour” as soon as you enter a shop. Sometimes, “bonjour” doesn’t even cut it — rule #127,533 subsection 5b strongly advises that you add “madame” or “monsieur” to the end of your greeting, just in case there was any ambiguity about the sex of your interlocutor (although I have, on occasion, witnessed some embarrassing mix-ups).

When I first arrived in France, the following would happen on some occasions: I enter a shop. The cashier knows I’m there, but is hunched over the register, working diligently on something (rolling either a croissant or a cigarette, I’m not sure). I wait for the cashier to look up at me and say hello. I wait a little longer. Finally, the cashier lifts her head and, with a suspciously passive-agressive tone of exasperation, says, “Bonjour, monsieur.”

It’s easy to see how this kind of behaviour might seem rude to an American. But now I understand the cashier’s point of view. “Okay, this guy just walked into my store. Why hasn’t he said hello yet? What’s he waiting for? God, how rude. “Hello, sir.”"

Granted, this particular situation doesn’t happen that often. Usually if the shopkeeper isn’t busy, she will say “bonjour, monsieur” as soon as you walk through the door.

Bonjour is important. And it’s not just for shopkeepers. One time while waiting in line at the small post office in my neighbourhood, a man walked in and collectively greeted the eight or so strangers in line with “Mesdames, messieurs, bonjour.” This would be like a man in America walking into a post office and saying “Ladies and gentlemen, good day.” Usually this kind of person is unshaven, smells like urine, and hears voices.

But “ladies and gentlemen, good day,” is a standard salutation in France.

Artist's rendering of an average Frenchman

The situation becomes more complex when you replace the shop or the post office with your place of work. I don’t know most of the teachers who work at my schools, mostly just the English teachers. But whenever a teacher walks into the teachers’ lounge, they are compelled by the laws of Frenchdom to say hello to everyone. My natural behaviour, of course, is to walk into the room, head towards my seat, and say hello to anyone I make eye contact with along the way, or to anyone I know personally. I feel awkward saying hello to everyone as soon as I walk through the door, but usually not doing so earns me a multitude of curious stares.

Then there’s the bise. Oh God, the bise. That’s the kisses you give people on the cheek to greet them. There are so many variables to take account of before you go in for the kiss. How do I know when to kiss someone? How many kisses do I give? Do I start with the right cheek or the left cheek? Do I have to kiss men too? There is no easy answer to any of these questions, as the answers all vary by region. These are covered by French code rules #701,668 to #702,109 and the corresponding geographic amendments.

In my region of France, you kiss friends (male and female) and newfound acquaintances (usually introduced to you by a friend) if they are a woman or a child (I’m not sure what the exact age cut-off is; I’ll check the manual again). Unless you’re a woman, in which case you pretty much have to kiss everyone.

The standard number of kisses in this area is 2. I think you’re supposed to start with the right cheek but so many people have gone for my left cheek first, resulting in some narrow escapes from catastrophic labial contact.

I have, on occasion, extended my hand to girls that were introduced to me by a mutual acquaintance. They were quite perplexed and a bit putt off by the idea that I was shaking their hand, almost as if I was treating them like they were men. I’ll try not to make that mistake again.

But wait. Wait! What if it’s past 5 PM? Ohhh, sheeeeeeiiiit. You just opened up a whole nother can of worms.

If you don’t speak French, I assure you that that was hilarious.