Photo taken in 2004. That's the tattletale, on the left, and my sister, Heidi (The "RuleBreaker"), right. Our mom, Jules, painted the quail and my mother-in-law, Michèle-France, gave me the owl (next to the rosary and the purse). Voilà… just another family photo. Do you sniff homesickness?
rapporteuse (rah por tuhz) feminine singular of "rapporteur"
: tattletale, tell-tale, blabbermouth
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synonym: informer
A Day in a French Life… by Kristin Espinasse
When The French Break Their Own Rules
I am setting out this morning to write about those rule-breaking Frenchmen… when the absurdity of this story's title strikes me: for why, after all, have the French invented rules if not to break them!
Skipping quickly now to the heart of my story and to the examples I mean to show you (in my borrowed role of tattletale, or rapporteuse), I'll now highlight two rarin'-to-be-trespassed rules, the first leads in to the second so follow closely:
In the tiny town of Richeranges Jean-Marc and I stumble onto a Saturday-morning market. Though the stalls are filled with eye-catching items, Jean-Marc and I are in the market for a W.C. (or water closet or toilet or "powder room" if you like). Only, Richeranges—like most villages and cities in France—is hiding its public restrooms.
While I search high and low for a loo, Jean-Marc slips into the nearest eatery… intent on breaking rule number 1 and rule number 2:
(French Rule Number One): Restaurants, Cafes, Bistros and the like are not public restrooms.
So much for Rule Number One. Jean-Marc breezes in, past the bartender which, in all honesty, is easy enough to do in a packed room, and heads straight for the W.C., which—cha-ching!—is vacant.
Le diable! I mutter, I who have just sneaked into the bar… creeping quietly in my husband's tracks. I know intuitively that it's now or never: run up and take his place! He'll let you in first…. this may be your last chance. Allez!
Every namby pamby nerve in my body freezes up. No matter how badly I need that "room", I'll not break this French rule!
I watch as a line of rule-breakers forms outside the bathroom door. Too late now.
As I stand there, going green in the face, a woman walks into the crowded bar, about to break rule number two:
(French Rule Number Two: On entering a public lieu, always begin with Bonjour Monsieur or Bonjour Madame (or Bonjour Monsieurs-Dames)
The newcomer looks around the room impatiently and I'm wondering whether she, too, needs the toilet room?
"Well, no tables!" Says she, looking at me as if I were one in her party and did I have a suggestion on where we might go next?
"C'est plein!" she complains, shaking her immaculately-coiffed head. "Il n'y a pas une place!" She looks at me, expectantly and I'm wondering whether she's taken me for the maitre d'?
"Que faire… que faire…" she seems to be waiting for an answer but all I can lend is a lifting of the shoulders: I dunno.
I am so distracted by her dramatics that I forget my own dire need… instead, I find myself nodding conspiratorially. Next, I watch Madame slip, self-righteously, over to the lavatory; a willing enough customer, it wasn't her fault if the restaurant was out of seats!
Le diable! Why didn't I think of that?
***
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"Tendresse" (and tiredness after breaking more rules!)
"Pawtners in Crime"
More rule-breakers! I meant to tell you about friends Eliane & Alain, who visited us last month with this merry group of Marseillais. They tasted wine and shared tales of their "trespassings" (or how to break French Rule Number Three). And they left me with gifts, including an apple with a beak mark in it. "It's the best kind," one of the men explained. Always pick the ones the birds have gone for. They're the best!
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Everyone know that Cafe toilettes are not public rest rooms but does anyone care, probably not even the cafe proprietors?
If you have a conscience accept that you should pay and think of the cheapest drink available, (probably coffee) and ask for, ‘Un expresso s’il vous plait et ou sont les toilettes’. The most you will pay in a small town cafe is 1,40€ and possibly only 1,00€. You don’t even have to drink it.
I find the prissiness attached to the name of the place we all must use every day amusing, from a ‘crapper’ from Thomas Crapper the inventor of the water closet, to ‘lavatory’ (surely a place where one washed), to the ‘toilet’, to the ‘John’???????, to the ultimate U.S. prissiness the ‘rest room’. What do you ask for if you are really in need of a room to rest in?
Written with loads of affection for all of my U.S. friends to whom I send heartfelt seasonal greetings.
Loved the pictures of the dogs, as usual.
Mike.
Hi Kristin, aah I remember only too clearly how well hidden the WC’s are in France!! There were some anxious moments on the search…
all the best
Chris 🙂
K,
One of the first lessons I learned decades ago (after acquiring my first French phrase “n’quittez pas”), was to properly announce “Bonjour Monsieur or Bonjour Madame.” However, periodically I have read to NEVER say Bonjour Monsieur-Dame. But NEVER has there been an explanation attached to this prohibition. Edification?
I too am homesick, for confit d’canard, une demi 1664, les marche ouvert, et al. And so I will repair to my second planetary choice, NOLA. Lassaiz les bon temps rouler…
r
Like Chris, my wife and I also know how well hidden the WCs can be in those small French towns. In one town we searched all over, we even had some signs indicating a general direction, but finally had to ask. The WC was almost under the town, at the base of the hill that the town sat on.
Great pictures of Mom and son!
I cannot tell you how many times I have ordered a coffee so that I could go to the toilettes…. The article on Marseille is great! Am forwarding the link to a friend who is there right now. Merci!
I loved Madame’s performance, and Kristin’s recounting of it. I thought I’d chip in with translations of the lines:
Madame: C’est plain – It’s full; Il n’y a pas une place – there is not one place; Que faire, que faire – what to do, what to do
Kristin: Le diable – darn!
Hello Kristin! Happy holidays to you! My strongest memory of France is this exact situation! My mother took me for my 16th birthday. We really had to find a place to ‘go’, and in a small village, the WC was two boards over a hole. My mother refused, and marched into a bar. I followed, knowing this was not a good move. The woman who owned the bar chased my mother with a raised broom! I swear, she raised it over my mom’s head and was ready to smack her. I ordered two hot dogs at the bar, and saved my mother from being whooped. I love the idea of just ordering a coffee! Genius. I ate a lot of hot dogs in France. Suzie
Mike, at 3 euros for an espresso, “relief” is pricey in “Par-ee”. And I’m with you – amused by all the ways one can say “WC”.
Richard, here, down south, I hear “Bonjour Monsieur-Dame” from time to time.
Chris and Bill and Ophelia (and Suzie… just saw your funny story), good to be able to sympathize here!
Leslie, thank you for the vocab section. I need to add it… 🙂
Kristin, are you being affected by the cold weather and snow that has been affecting most of Europe? It must be terrible if they’ve even closed the Eiffel Tower!
Salut Kristin
If you’ve traveled in rural France, you probably have a “W.C.” story.
I recall that men have an advantage in that the roadside is available at any convenient spot to pull off the road.
In one small rural town, I recall finding a toilet. The amenities consisted of a hole in the floor and two footprints in the concrete for proper positioning. It was not a W.C.; “c’était sans l`eau.”
Enjoyed Jean-Marc’s tour of Marseilles. The bouillabaisse at the restaurant Le Peron would be a super treat!
À bientôt
Kristi Darling, I loved your slice of French life this morning, you are so good to your friends and readers as I know you were contemplating a re-run of one of my embarassing escapades when I lived in your village of Les Arcs. Instead I can see you in my ‘minds eye’ sitting at your cold computer at 6:00 a.m. as you do each morning, a steaming cup of coffee, perhaps even wearing those old fingerless gloves one of your readers gave you a few years ago when you were wining (sp? wineing?) about the icy cold in the Rhone Valley. Instead you have honed the gift of opening your heart each morning and letting your soul pour out into each new story. This is why I love your posts – each one is so fresh and new and inspiring us to do a little mischief each day.
The sun is just coming up here in Puerto Vallarta. It’s a crisp 58 degrees outside my window, not a cloud in the sky and promises of another 85 degree day on the beach.
I am filled with energy and the electricity of hope is coursing throughout my body – – I have a feeling I am going to receive one of the greatest Christmas gifts ever this year. The present may be a little late (a week or so) but the belief of receiving has transformed my entire life, Kristi who was my wonderful Christmas gift almost 43 years ago may be coming back into my life for a wonderful reunion of love.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Heidi flew in to complete us as we always were one together.
XOXO
JULES
Here are a couple more names for Mike’s list; latrine (an army term), head (used on ships) and library (slang).
Wonderful story and comments. Have a blessed Christmas week full of love and adventure.
Bonjour Kristin,
As always your witty, fun accounts amuse and delight and make my own morning entry that much sweeter! Ah yes, so many similar experiences in France, Croatia…well anywhere one is lucky enough to travel to!
The expresso idea works well as your reader commented bien sur. I too have snuck in from time to time in a real emergency. Tend to plan our coffee breaks when traveling through France with this other objective in mind now.
I must say, being homesick for France…though we have no snow in Boulder, CO we do in our mountains — tons in fact…that I so hope you can rejoin your dear mother around the holidays. It is always a stretch to be abroad (even if that is your home), especially during the Christmas season. We dream of spending time in the marches, cafes, villages, the churches and with our friends there.
I loved Jules note and wish you and your entire family every joy and blessing of this special season, wherever you are.
By the way, loving Peura Vallarta too, that sounds like a fine destination to us!
Cheers and hugs.