Emily in France 🇫🇷 Returning from America

On reverse culture shock

I’ve been living abroad for longer than I ever lived in America. I was just 18, after all, when I moved to Canada, and a year and a half later, I was in France. Seventeen years later, despite the accent that gives me away after about three sentences, I often feel far more at home in Paris than back in New York. (Exhibit A: Because I do not know how to leave a social outing without a bise, a few years ago, I started awkwardly saluting people. And no matter how weird I knew it was, I could. not. stop.)

Still, my job – writing and podcasting about French culture and leading tours of Paris for fellow Americans – leads me to constantly keep the differences between my native and adopted lands front of mind. But sometimes, I wonder if I’m telling myself the stories, rather than relating reality. How can I be trusted, I sometimes wonder, to accurately render the differences between two cultures, two countries, when I haven't actually spent any prolonged time in one of them since I was a teenager? Are my memories of America tainted by time spent away?

I just returned from two weeks in the U.S., and for some reason, I felt particularly primed to notice these differences. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it reverse culture shock, but there were definitely moments that gave me pause.

I was in New York in July, so this should come as no surprise, but I was freezing everywhere I went. Air conditioning was pervasive and, for the most part, way too strong for someone accustomed to being a little bit sweaty from June to September.

Of course, that has a lot to do with the fact that New York is a different animal entirely. Ninety degree weather plus humidity meant that most of the time, I was glad for the respite of cold. That said, I ended up carrying a cardigan around pretty much everywhere to keep from catching a cold in a CVS.

The chilly temperatures did have one unforeseen benefit, however. While I was roasting on the streets just moments before entering Three Decker Diner in Greenpoint, the air conditioning meant I was able to order – and enjoy! – not just a hot cup of diner coffee, but a tuna melt, discovering that despite my long-time aversion to hot tuna in any form, I actually adore tuna melts. Who knew?

One element of American culture that I was fairly sure I’d kind of made up was the omnipresence of bathrooms. Turns out, you can literally just walk into a Trader Joe’s, have a wander around in the air conditioning, pee in a very clean bathroom, and then continue on your way. After this many years in France, navigating with café owners to use the bathroom before ordering an espresso, this was mind-blowing. (Also very welcome, considering the fact that I was drinking a lot of liquids, including multiple iced Dunkin’s…

…this incredible fruit slush from A&N Fruit store on Canal Street…

…and more than my fair share of craft beer.

Did I mention it was hot?)

The air conditioning also meant I was able to take full advantage of the scope of delicious American treats I miss when I’m in France, including bagels, American Chinese food, Thai food, and pizza. I managed three different kinds over my two weeks there, including my favorite pie from John’s of Bleecker.

That said, I’m finally forced to concede the superiority of Patsy’s, which my family has long preferred. This slice is absolutely bonkers good.

Perhaps the biggest culture shock, though, was the random friendliness of Americans – and specifically New Yorkers –, which I always manage to forget when I’m away and then remember, in a jolt of recognition. A random woman walking down the street complimented me on my dress; thankfully, I was quick enough to return the compliment in kind. A man coming into the train station to leave a pile of books started up a conversation about what he was reading, which books in the pile he’d preferred. I was wary at first, and then leaned in, remembering the 19-year-old me who’d complimented a Parisienne at a bus stop, only to get major side-eye and a meter’s distance put between us in an instant.

In perhaps the most New York moment of all, as I was struggling to heave a suitcase with three bottles of wine and broken wheels up the stairs of Penn Station, weakened by the aforementioned heat, humidity, and seven-hour flight besides, a man emerging from New Jersey transit reached over with his non-dominant hand and effortlessly picked up my bag by the handle as though it weighed no more than an empty shopping bag, depositing it at the top of the stairs without even breaking stride.

It was kind. It was efficient. It was no-nonsense.

It was New York.

Cheese of the Week

When I seek out American cheese, it’s generally going to be blue. I’ve got a major soft spot for American blue cheeses, which tend to be more powerful than Italian ones but less overtly barnyardy than French or Spanish. This Great Hill Blue made by the Stone Family in Marion, Mass is one of my favorites. The raw cow’s milk cheese boasts a robust but still balanced flavor with just the right dose of salt and above all a lovely, creamy texture I absolutely adore.

To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.

What I’m Eating

This is not the first time I’ve reviewed Le Saint-Sébastien, but when Chef Chris Edwards made his recent move to Nice to open his Café des Musiciens, I thought it was high time I paid it a visit to try out the cuisine from former sous-chef Andrés Reyes Solis. No matter how the team in the kitchen has changed, le Saint-Sébastien has remained true to itself: a restaurant where you can feel the love, where conviviality reigns, where clients are looked after, whether at a table or, in the case of yours truly, in their favorite seat at the bar. More on the blog.

Where I’m Going

1. To Tropicale Glacier, one of my favorite ice cream shops in Paris.

2. For two weeks of adventuring in the UK!

What I'm Writing

1. Not writing per se, but… I’ll be hosting an online cheese discovery event, Putting French Cheeses on the Map, with Bonjour Paris Live tomorrow at 11am. Come with me to discover the diverse world of French cheese by way of their innate regionality. Sign up here!

2. Navigating a steakhouse menu can be like trying to read another language. From temperatures to accoutrements, there's a whole world of choices to make, and given the expanse of the offerings, it's important you get things right. I chatted with experts to break down the vocab you need to know to navigate any steakhouse menu for Mashed.

3. From the archives: In 2011, a homemade cocktail from Southern France took the rest of the country by storm. In this land of wine, it must have seemed a daring decision: just in time for summer, Maison Castel, a world-renowned Bordelaise wine producer, took a risk and released Very Pamp, a bottled cocktail of rosé wine mixed with grapefruit juice. And though they could never have known it at the time, this simple regional specialty would go on to become a national favorite. For Eater.

What I’m Saying

Edna Zhou is a journalist who has covered – and worked with – the Olympic games all over the world. As Paris prepares to welcome the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, she's here to help navigate the French relationship to sports – and working out – as we discuss the word sportif.

Friends of Emily in France

I’m surrounded by some pretty exceptional entrepreneurs, writers, and tastemakers, and I think you should know about them too! From now on, each week, I’ll be profiling one person I think you should be aware of.

John Martin isn’t just one of the coolest dudes I happen to know. He’s also a talented artist whose commitment to a drawing a day has long inspired me to be just as assiduous with my writing.

His surreal creations range from the silly to the thought-provoking. I love how detailed they are, and moreover, I'm always stunned to see just how creative and imaginative his mind is.

Plus… he’s got merch!

My favorite tote bag features the Sonflower and comes out every summer – much to the accolades of my cheesemonger and caviste, who I now know well enough to not only tutoyer but compliment.

This hot dog basking in a pool of mac and cheese, meanwhile, is probably going to be my new phone case.

Order your own John Martin merch for the ultimate unique shower curtains, caps, and more, and follow John on Instagram to discover his next creations.

FAQs

In an attempt to bring you the content you crave, I've solicited your help. What questions can I answer for you? Drop them into the newsletter chat, and I’ll answer as many as I can!

What I'm Reading

1. It's been a long time since I read a rom-com I fell in love with, but Wild Things by Laura Kay ticked all the boxes. The central love story was relatable and pleasantly predictable, governed not by "will-they/won't-they" but "how and when will these two crazy kids realize they're crazy about each other?" The side characters were vibrant, and the b plots well-crafted without being distracting. The well-written prose and well-crafted dialogue made it a pleasure to read. All-in-all, pretty much the ideal queer beach read for summer.

2. This incredibly deep dive into the ways in which different cultures and cuisines around the world have made spaghetti their own. In Bitter Southerner.

3. This jaw-dropping, achingly empathetic portrait of Jodie Foster. In the Atlantic.

A bientôt !