We went to France three years ago craving inspiration. But we didn’t just stay for a month, oh no. We moved there for a year, basing ourselves in Bordeaux and sending the eldest to French school. I wanted to look through a sweetly shuttered window into the romantic secrets of culture and joie de vivre. Learning to speak French fluently would be a bonus, too. But the one sure thing about travel is that it never works exactly how you expect. What I saw instead was myself in reflective glass, forcing me to confront my own views and where they come from. Here are some of my lessons learnt taking the kids to France.
Cultural Awareness
People in France generally don’t know a lot about New Zealand and so we became sort of ambassadors for our country. (That was after their shock that we were not, in fact, British.) If I asked them a question about a festival, holiday or school fair, they in turn wanted to know about our version.
French people are taught about their own culture. History is tangible in France, with Roman ruins around the corner, 18th century apartment blocks, even ancient standing stones. At the age of 6, my son was learning about French literature; Jean de la Fontaine, the French author who wrote tales about animals to comment on parts of society. Children in New Zealand school do not learn much about the history of the country, just a little about the Treaty of Waitangi. I remember learning a lot more about British history than our own.
The first time I was asked if New Zealand has many great authors, I panicked and plucked Janet Frame and Eleanor Catton out of thin air. On the spot, I didn’t mention Witi Ihimaera or some of my favourites, Stevan Eldred-Grigg or Jenny Pattrick. But the truth is, New Zealand does not really celebrate or fund the arts. I have no idea if any of these authors are famous internationally.
The gourmands in France asked what sweet specialities New Zealand boasts. Pavlova? The French have something pretty similar called Ile flottante. Trifle? British. When other people ask what our signature dance is, does the ‘haka’ count? We have fantastic kapa haka competitions, poi dances and waiata. But the average New Zealander wouldn’t know the words and actions for ‘Waitaha e’.
I have become much more aware of the ‘New Zealandness’ that we each bring when we go out into the world. Not just the Maori legends and Te Reo words and place names, but the special qualities that are part of our identity. We are a hardworking, rugby-loving, barbecue-eating, casual-dressing, nation. We are sometimes accused of a laissez-fair attitude, but, when it counts, we stand up for what we believe.
Importance of language-learning
We met some amazing people who can speak four or five languages fluently. They came from other Eurozone countries, like Armenia, so they have had to learn French. Most people in Europe have to learn English at school anyway. What is more, they may have parents who each speak a different language in their own country. That means a lot of vocabulary and grammar, blood, sweat and tears.
So it can come across as a little arrogant that we don’t have to learn any other language as a matter of course. Does English, the language of money and Western culture, make the world go round? Why should we not have to learn any languages? What about Maori for New Zealanders? There has been a lot of recent research on bilingual brains and the greater capacity for learning. Also, what about the empathy and understanding that comes from knowing that there are different ways of thinking about things?
Resilience
When we first moved to France, I was the only one who could speak the language. So I had to be the one to give the food orders, buy tickets, ask questions. I had to get out of my comfort zone so many times that I forgot what a comfort zone was. It was really good for me. The comments about my French were mostly positive, which encouraged me to keep on making a fool of myself, I mean, trying.
My son wasn’t shy but he was also pretty sensitive to change. At French school, everything he knew was wrong. Lunches were different, play was different, there were no uniforms, classroom structure was much more formal, even the handwriting had to be re-learnt. He rolled with it and spoke more fluently than me within six weeks. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t always fun, but he did it and I think it opened his mind as well as showing him that change can be a good thing.
People are people
The most surprising fact, that should perhaps be the most obvious, was that people are inherently the same all over the world. There are kind people in France who are welcoming and helpful. There are also mean ones who look down their noses at you. In spite of all the many differences in our way of life, there were little villages when we found a slice of home so very far away. And that is the most hopeful part right there. The magic is in the similarity. It is in the shared looks of shame and sympathy across a crowded supermarket when a French toddler was having the exact same tantrum one of mine would. It is in the mothers and fathers all trying to do the best for their children.
In case you are wondering why I am re-hashing all of this three years later, it is because it was supremely life-changing. It has taken me this long to really think about how my perspective changed. What did I learn about myself? And why, in spite of the stress and conflict of living without support networks, in a family of four for a year, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
- Check out my top Books set in France
Have you lived in another country? How did it change your outlook?