During the past few days, I have been reminded often that I am definitely not in Texas anymore. Although I’ve spent much time in France, and many weekends in Hazebrouck (where I’m staying until I move to Douai next weekend), it’s the little things that I see or experience that serve as clear examples of the unique French (and Flemmish) culture in the north of France.
The food. The drinks. Both are quite different from what I’ve been eating all summer. French people drink often. I don’t know how their stomachs can handle 4 cups of strong coffee per day, but they do. I’ve been getting strange looks for requesting just water to drink – no, not carbonated water, just water – which makes me giggle. It usually goes like this – Host: “Do you want a coffee?” Me: “No thank you, but I’ll just have water if that’s okay.” Host: “Juice? Coke?” Me: “Oh that’s ok, just water please.” Host: “???”