ALL HAS BEEN REVEALED!

Photo: a street in St. Pons - really nothing to do with this blog entry.

A couple of years ago I had a puncture on my way up to St.Pons from the brico (d.i.y) in Beziers with a nice layer of breezeblocks in the boot of the car, the spare tyre being underneath of course. First of all the thingimybob spanner thing came to hand and I endeavoured to shift the nuts to no avail, couldn't budge them. So I went across the road as I'd fortunately conked out near a house and asked the man there for help, but neither he nor his daughter had the strength to move them either. They phoned the local garagiste for me but nothing was going to happen for a couple of hours because lunch time had just commenced. Thanking them I took my leave as they had lunch and I sat by the car. A while later an english car stopped and asked if I needed help and I said no it was O.K. a garagiste was on his way, then a while after that a french car stopped and he was not to be deterred! Having explained that I, the man, nor the woman from the neighbouring house couldn't move the nuts (how I did that in french I don't know, I'm pretty sure wheel nuts aren't 'noix') he was determined to resolve the situation, forget about a garagiste!! And so he did, nuts out, son was told to lift out the breezeblocks, and Dad changed the tyre, voila.
So why am I recounting this tale? During the course of the exercise I established they were from out of town and were on their way to St.Pons to show their new baby off to the grandparents residing there. But what struck me was the fact they asked me NOTHING. Had the roles been reversed and I'd found some french people in the depths of the Irish countryside I'd have wanted to know what they were doing there, how long they were visiting, where they had been, where they were going, I'd have thrown in a few recommendations for places to visit and basically told them my entire life story.
And now ALL HAS BEEN REVEALED! I have just started reading 'Sixty million Frenchmen can't be wrong' and there in chapter 3 'Private Space' it is explained......I quote......

'We had been in France long enough to know some rules about conversation. Questions we consider polite are sometimes considered rude in France - especially ''what do you do?'' or ''what is your name?''....This reticence to offer names may be one reason why the French are often accused of being aloof and lack hospitality.''

The authors go on to say that the French have very different ideas about what they consider private, and so I guess what I would consider friendly chat they consider an invasion of privacy, whoops, that explains a few things over the years!
Indeed many years ago I did ask a neighbour their name, only to be told 'Moi, je suis Le Patron', (I'm the boss) as a result Eugene is still always called Le Patron in our house even though we are now on first name terms. Another neighbour in St.Pons I'd asked after a bit of a chat had he lived in St.Pons all his life and he just looked at me (I know my french is bad but it doesn't usually create that response), the man never spoke to us again. O.K I'm back off to read my book (about 15 years too late).