(sorry about the clichéd title... but how could I avoid it?)
This post is the first of a new category that I’ll call “Grumble”. As you would expect, this category pays homage to that revered and priceless British pastime: grumbling. There will probably be many more such posts over the coming weeks, so I thought it best to warn you. Happy-go-lucky, eternally optimistic readers who prefer to see the best in everybody and everything should feel free to skip all posts in this category.
So, on to the kissing.
As you know, kissing – or the bise - is a sacred institution in France. You can be expected to indulge in a hearty round of cheek pecking every time you meet up with a group of friends, for example. But that’s fine, because they’re your friends. You must also be prepared to kiss the cheeks (and make enthusiastic “mwa” sounds) of people you’re being introduced to for the first time, depending on the context (basically, any social context whatsoever, and sometimes even in a chance encounter in the street). All of this, I can cope with.
The plot thickens when it comes to work. Lots of colleagues like to share a bise with their fellow workers of a morning. Some even walk around an entire open space – nay, an entire floor! – looking for available cheeks to snap their lips onto. This makes me slightly more uncomfortable.
You are probably thinking that it should be fairly easy to wriggle one’s way out of an unwelcome bise, by extending a brisk, professional hand, for example (to indicate that a handshake is your preferred form of greeting), or whisking your cheek out of the way at the crucial moment. These are all options, of course. However, there is more at stake here than you might imagine.
Someone who refuses the bise will probably be considered a little bit strange. Cold. Anti-social. I have personally witnessed conversations between colleagues discussing the oddness of another colleague who systematically turns the other cheek. To refuse the bise is to exclude yourself a little bit. And as a British person, you just can’t afford to do that. If only to crush all the idées reçues, you must show that you’re warm-hearted, unreserved, tactile!
So, I boldly respond to any bise that is thrust upon me. Today, however, even I was caught off guard and left feeling a little peeved. A certain male colleague who works in my building – but with whom I have no direct dealings – popped down to my floor to “do the rounds”. I got ready to grin and bear it. This bise, however, was unlike any I’ve received before: eye-poppingly firm and way closer to the lips than is acceptable. Pulling away in surprise, I blustered: “Erm, hold on, that was a bit close wasn’t it?!”
“Oh sorry!” said my friendly colleague, eyes gleaming. “I’m not wearing my glasses, you see: it makes it hard to judge distances!”
So, on to the kissing.
As you know, kissing – or the bise - is a sacred institution in France. You can be expected to indulge in a hearty round of cheek pecking every time you meet up with a group of friends, for example. But that’s fine, because they’re your friends. You must also be prepared to kiss the cheeks (and make enthusiastic “mwa” sounds) of people you’re being introduced to for the first time, depending on the context (basically, any social context whatsoever, and sometimes even in a chance encounter in the street). All of this, I can cope with.
The plot thickens when it comes to work. Lots of colleagues like to share a bise with their fellow workers of a morning. Some even walk around an entire open space – nay, an entire floor! – looking for available cheeks to snap their lips onto. This makes me slightly more uncomfortable.
You are probably thinking that it should be fairly easy to wriggle one’s way out of an unwelcome bise, by extending a brisk, professional hand, for example (to indicate that a handshake is your preferred form of greeting), or whisking your cheek out of the way at the crucial moment. These are all options, of course. However, there is more at stake here than you might imagine.
Someone who refuses the bise will probably be considered a little bit strange. Cold. Anti-social. I have personally witnessed conversations between colleagues discussing the oddness of another colleague who systematically turns the other cheek. To refuse the bise is to exclude yourself a little bit. And as a British person, you just can’t afford to do that. If only to crush all the idées reçues, you must show that you’re warm-hearted, unreserved, tactile!
So, I boldly respond to any bise that is thrust upon me. Today, however, even I was caught off guard and left feeling a little peeved. A certain male colleague who works in my building – but with whom I have no direct dealings – popped down to my floor to “do the rounds”. I got ready to grin and bear it. This bise, however, was unlike any I’ve received before: eye-poppingly firm and way closer to the lips than is acceptable. Pulling away in surprise, I blustered: “Erm, hold on, that was a bit close wasn’t it?!”
“Oh sorry!” said my friendly colleague, eyes gleaming. “I’m not wearing my glasses, you see: it makes it hard to judge distances!”
Indeed. His dodgy judgement would probably have been a suing offence in the US.
But this is the south of France, and you have to accept a sprinkling of hot-blooded males around the place. For me, rightly or wrongly, it’s all in a day’s work. So this is really quite a stoical grumble, all things considered.
PS. Mean Security Man and I are friends again. This morning, I slowed down and held out my badge (photo right way up) in the conventional manner. He responded with a professional nod and a complex grimace/half-smile/ pursed lips form of salute. Harmony is restored… and this remains, at least, one resolutely bise-free zone!
2 comments:
Moi même, je ne parviens toujours pas à me faire à cette coutume de la "bise à tout va"
J'ai des souvenirs d'embouteillage dans les escaliers du lycée où ceux qui montent font 4 bises à ceux qui descendent et vice et versa. Dans les agences la seule technique que j'avais trouvé pour parer à cela était d'arriver avant les autres et pendant les deux premières heures de la matinée prendre un air inspiré devant mon écran qui aurait pu vouloir dire "wake me up for lunch".
La bise est un sujet beaucoup plus complexe qu'il n'y parait. Que dire de la bise entre homme, hors cadre familial, il n'y a pas de code, tout se joue en une seconde si tu décides ou non de passer le point de non retour. Un grand classique qui nous à tous value des fous rires, c'est l'anglaise fraichement débarquée qui déboule dans une "soirée parisienne" et doit vraisemblablement pour la première fois de sa vie faire une trentaine de bises à la suite on la voit qui panique qui tente de maitriser la technique au fur et à mesure que les gens lui saute littéralement dessus, un verre de rouge dans une main et une cigarette dans l'autre. terrible
Bises (encore)
Oh, c'est pas gentil de vous moquer des pauvres Anglaises innocentes qui font tout pour s'intégrer et qui ne demandent que d'être acceptées, adulées, aimées!
Your comment has reminded me of another post I wanted to write - about "Blockers" (people who have a special talent for blocking stairways, pavements, doorways, etc). Watch this space: it's coming soon.
Kisses
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