Say Bonjour

I walked into the restaurant excited to try authentic French cuisine. I was in Paris and I had dreams of fromage, crème brulee, and escargot dancing in my head. The restaurant was classically French and every decoration and every person glittered with Parisian flare. I was with my tour group so I knew that we stuck out in the crowd, but I did not care. I was there for the experience. We were a group of twenty-five American college students and one British tour guide fresh from seeing basilicas and the Eiffel Tower.

As soon as we broke the plane of the door, every restaurant patron and waiter turned to look at us. We were dressed appropriately for the restaurant, we were not carrying backpacks or fanny packs, and we were not screaming like we were at a football game. How did they know that we did not belong? I was the first student in the door and I followed the tour guide, Michael, to the back of the restaurant where our table was waiting. As we walked by I could feel the looks of disgust following us and I have never felt more out of place. Something we were doing was telling that crowd of people that we were Americans. It was like we were carrying flags and pictures of President Bush.

Later, I tried to figure out what the restaurant patrons saw that I did not see. I started to think what Americans look like and the stereotypes that are associated with being an American. Some stereotypes that easily came to mind were that Americans are loud and obnoxious, we only eat Big Macs, and all listen to Elvis Pressley records. These are not all bad things, but they are not true of every American and they were not all true of the twenty-five Americans that I was traveling with.

As I thought about the American stereotypes, I wondered what stereotypes I came to France with about the natives. I thought that all French people would be snobby, skinny, and smoke twelve packs of cigarettes a day. I was right in some instances and wrong in others. There were eighty-pound smokestacks with their noses up in the air, but most of the people I met were very nice. They treated me nicely and were helpful because I did not know much French.

I was wrong about my stereotypes and they were wrong about theirs. The stereotypes that I carry with me are not good or bad, because they are necessary. We all need stereotypes so that we can classify people and have a frame of reference for the people we meet. While it is not good that we need these stereotypes, what is great is when they are broken. Those instances when someone is the opposite of what you expect really make you take notice. Maybe we will learn to put stereotypes aside one day but until then I will continue to apply them and have them applied to me.