Thoroughly Modern Manners

Eiffel vs. The Sky
Originally uploaded by Toni Blay.

Most people consider the French language to be beautiful. I remember learning it in high school and spending the early weeks with my Year 8 class mates, hacking up phlegm in an effort to perfect our accents. Some of us had it, some of us never did.

But we could all agree that many words just sound better in French - biscuit, pomplemousse, just to name a few. But consider the word 'politesse', the true subject of today's post. Just by looking at it, you could guess that it means 'politeness', but what a genteel way to say it. It sounds just like it should - neat, clipped, dainty. It sounds like a word that bird-like women in Chanel tweed suits would say as they receive the ladies for bridge.

But last night and again this morning on the bus, I was none of these things. I was not neat, clipped, dainty, or bird-like. Instead, I was cloppy, oafish, ignorant, and clumsy.

Last night the bus was so crowded, I had to stand. And then I fell on a perfectly lovely looking (gay) man who proceeded to laugh his head off at me. Either that or he was listening to a very amusing song on his ipod. I went as red as my coat. Then this morning I had a seat the whole way into town, but as I stood up to get off at my stop - while the bus was stationary, mind you - I stepped on the toes of every man sitting in the middle section of the twisty bus. Every single one of them. How is that possible?! I mumbled my apologies, cursed my clumsiness, and gratefully stumbled off the bus into the warm bosom of Starbucks.

It's just so frustrating, you know? I can say 'politesse' with all its appropriate Frenchness. I get the accent and pitch right, and I can even use it in a sentence. But why oh why, when I'm on busy public transport, can't I embody what it means?