France bestowed on me its highest honor in Nice last weekend - a spot in their Guild of Pretentiousness. As beautiful as the French Riviera was, and as great as it was to spend time with my Mom, this had to be the best 2 minutes of my time along the southern coast of France. The induction ceremony is simple. What you need is a group of non-French speaking tourists and 2 or more French speakers with at least one being a native of France. The procedure goes...Talk in French about the tourists' stupidity. That's it. See? Told you it was simple.
The French planned my induction ceremony in a beach-gear shop right off the shoreline in Nice. I had just orderedmy lunch order at the café on the beach where my Mom and I were eating. The sun became too annoying, and I needed a cheap pair of sunglasses. I walked into the nearby shop, muttered a quick "Bonjour" to the shopkeeper, and went to the glasses rack. Three adults speaking English entered the shop right after me. By their accents, they all seemed of Indian descent, and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed my assumption. As I was trying on different pairs of sunglasses, I couldn't help but overhear the adults asking the shopkeeper prices of various tote bags he had in stock. Then they began bartering with him, asking the man if they could have the 30 euro bag for 20. "Oh this should be good," I thought. The next few minutes saw an angry cultural clash of people used to bargaining for goods and a shopkeeper used to a market of fixed prices.
"No!" the shopkeeper shouted in English. "In this country, the price is the price, and that's it. I do not know where you are from but you must respect that!"
"20 euro."
"NO!"
"25 then?"
"30 euro is the price. If you do not want to pay that, please leave my store."
"Okay fine I pay 30."
The shopkeeper let out an exasperated sigh as he went behind the counter to ring the gentleman up. I had approached the register at that point, so he rang me up first. As he took my sunglasses to scan, he says:
"Ces étrangers, quel cauchemar."
"These foreigners, what a nightmare."
Taken aback for a second, I realize "Holy crap he thinks I'm French....Don't. Blow. This."
I respond nonchalantly:
"Oui, c'est différent ici et ils ne le respectent jamais. C'est difficile."
"Yes, it's different here and they never respect/comply with it. It's difficult."
Shopkeeper:
"Oui, et si je dis quelques choses, c'est comme je parle à mur."
"Yes and if I say something, it's like I'm talking to a wall."
Me:
"Ah je sais, je sais. Alors bonne chance!"
"Ah I know, I know. Well, good luck!"
Shopkeeper:
"Merci, bonne journée et bons pâques."
"Thanks, have a good day and a good Easter."
Me:
"Oui et vous aussi."
"Yes and you too."
I walked out of that shop feeling like the coolest person in the world. A French person thought that I was a fellow French native who turned up their noses at idiotic tourists. Being welcomed into the Guild of Pretentiousness was probably the highlight of my time in Nice. The water suddenly looked bluer, the sun shone brighter, the food tasted better, and my French flowed smoother. Who knew being such a snobby ass could feel so good?
Well...I guess the French do.
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