As I prepare for my honeymoon to Fiji, I’ve got travel on the brain and I’m already thinking about future adventures. One of the things I’m trying to convince my fiancé of is that one day we should go to France. I’ve been to France a couple times and its landscape and architecture are lovely. Yes, its citizens and rap music are beyond baffling, but Sasha Baron Cohen’s character in Talladega Nights makes a pretty good case for the country – it is, after all, the inventor of crepes, which are actually just thin delicious pancakes, and certain coital acts which shall remain unnamed for now. It also helped us win the revolutionary war, if you recall. So, I posit to you, contrary to most Americans’ belief, France doesn’t completely suck.
For another thing, France is beautiful. I’m not just talking about Paris; I’m actually referring mostly to the countryside. Go outside of Paris and suddenly you’re transported to a land of castles and vineyards, brassieres, classy graveyards, and cafes with endless supplies of complimentary baguettes. Also, people in the countryside tend to be more supportive of one’s attempts to speak French than in Paris. I can pronounce no more than twenty words in that luggie-inducing language correctly, but at least I make an effort. In Germany, that counts for something; in southern France it counts for something, too. In Paris, you’re out of luck and further proving how dumb Americans are. Pooh on that.
On the subject of Paris, it has great shopping. It’s incredibly annoying that everyone walks around looking like a fashion plate on the Champs Elysses, somehow walking briskly in heels and dress shoes and not breaking a sweat or getting blisters. Unless you live in New York City or Los Angeles, however, shopping in America is a disaster, so it’s nice to have the opportunity to buy nice things, even though the dollar is still not doing fantastically against the Euro and you can’t afford anything, anyway. Does Paris even have a Marc by Marc Jacobs store? Would it ever stoop so low?
Additionally, it is impossible to find perfect – or even passable – macaroons in America. I’m not talking about the Passover kind; Manishevitz has that market covered. No, I’m talking about the weird Easter egg-colored, whipped egg white cookie-shaped deliciousness with a mystery filling that can only be described as divine. They are simply the best cookie that’s not really a cookie on the planet. One more thing – you can bring full-size dogs into the airport. If only all American airports were so disrespectful to those with allergies, the world would be a much better place.
Other than these things, I can’t think of much else that makes a good argument for the continued existence of France, but I think architecture, fashion, and dessert is a valid reason for its continued relevance, and my fiancé should give it a try someday.