Je suis fière

This week we got to participate in the celebrations for France's national holiday, the 14th of July. The fête  meant another chance to check out the differences between our two cultures.

Our lunch café of choice. Only one girl
was working there the whole day.

First of all, everything closes on holidays. None of that WalMart "Open all of Independence Day!" stuff. Shops close early here anyway (even the grocery stores; and especially the restaurants, unless it's a bar), so the streets were pretty empty. It was nice. Everyone stayed at home to relax, or else went to hang out at the beach. But even the beaches weren't swamped. The French sure do take their days off seriously.

That's not to say there wasn't any celebration going on. We went to a parade at the end of the day on Toulon's main street. But there we were greeted with another anomaly: no floats. No kids waving from firetrucks. No dancers. No Miss Toulon in a crown and gown. Just a bunch of military music playing from loudspeakers and military men lining the streets in perfect formation. Indeed, it was all about the military. We watched in amusement as one man wavered in deciding whether to cross the street, which at this point was empty of cars and pedestrians. An officer looked his way and shook his head. The man pointed to himself: You talking to me? The serviceman nodded, then shook his head again. No crossing the street during this demonstration, dude. Each branch of the military had their own representatives march down Rue Strasbourg; then it all ended with firetrucks and military trucks driving into the sunset.

We were left with a slightly disappointed feeling and a desperate need for water tugging at our throats.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but catch the pride. I don't know if it was for my own country, for France, or for both, but I felt it. The kind of Wow, I'm a part of something bigger than myself, type of feeling. The feeling was magnified when we went to the fireworks show that night. It wasn't until 10:00, since the sun's light doesn't really dissipate until then, and we were tired. But it was worth it. It wasn't like the firework shows I've seen, where you have a few little sparks at a time and you have to wait five minutes in between each round. Nope. This was a constant spectacle, with a huge finale including Saturn's rings fireworks set up to look like the French flag. The whole thing was over within half an hour, and I loved it.


The French pride can at times, however, be marred by the scars of military excursions past. This week we also met a man who served in Algeria--the Vietnam of France. "We fought for nothing," he told us. But that was about all he said about it, and the conversation moved on. Maybe it was just because it was our first visit there, but maybe there was more behind it.

Regardless, national pride is important. It's a shame to feel shame about the place where you live, because the fact is every country has those moments. But France isn't all Algeria, just like Germany isn't all Nazi and America isn't all Watergate. There's more to our countries than our past, and even than our present. I'm proud just to be an American, and the French are proud just to be French. And that's pretty cool.