Dear France,
Sunday, June 30th, was the first round, shocking, scary, distressing. Sunday, July 7th, was the second round, relieving but confusing. Sunday, July 14th, it’s your turn to let yourself talk about love. It was about time. You really need it.
If we add to the political crisis the elimination of the French team from the Euro, we could say that France is goneto use an English formula, as you like to do so well. But we will not fall into criticism, into self-flagellation, into cutting off heads, as you also like to do so well.
On the contrary, today is your national holiday, I want to write you a love letter with the language that is mine and yours. In short, I want to French you. No, but it’s still fantastic that no matter where they are in the world, no matter what language they speak, whether it’s English, Spanish or Chinese, when two lovers are silent and kiss with their tongues, they French each other, they Frenchify each other.
If only for patenting this tender mark of affection, you deserve to be celebrated.
First of all, you are beautiful, France. Beautiful without makeup, beautiful in your landscapes: the cliffs of Étretat, the dunes of Pilat, the ochres of Roussillon, the organs of Ille-sur-Têt, the Verdon gorges, the Pointe du Raz, the Tufs waterfall, the Bramabiau abyss, the Quiberon peninsula, the medieval city of Carcassonne, the Lascaux cave, the castles of the Loire, the coves of Piana, the Padirac chasm, the Palais Idéal of the postman Cheval, the conques of Aveyron, the Brière marsh, the En-Vau cove, the Huelgoat forest, Mont-Saint-Michel, the Troumouse cirque, the Merveilles valley, the Peyrepertuse castle, the Auvergne volcanoes natural park, the Puy-en-Velay chapel and the Mille Étangs plateau.
Not to mention the Camargue, Mont Blanc, Lake Annecy, the Lavezzi Islands, Riquewihr in Alsace, Fort Queyras, Cap Fréhel, Les Baux-de-Provence, the vineyards of Burgundy, the Canal du Midi, Saint-Paul-de-Vence, the lavender fields of the Valensole plateau… I could go on all the way to La Trinité. Influencers, I know, that’s a lot of selfies to take.
And then there’s Paris. Aaah, Paris! Whether you like it or not, it’s the most beautiful city in the world. A city where skyscrapers stay away, to leave all the space for the Eiffel Tower. A city where it’s good to go around in circles and sleep like a star. A city where the bridges of the Seine unite the left and the right.
A city with a pyramid that was not built for the dead, but for the living, the living who love art. Art that is the only way to stay alive. A city where every terrace watches History pass by.
The regions of France and the city of Paris are so captivating that I almost forgot the French men and women who must have something to do with it all: Marie Curie, Jacques Prévert, Louis Pasteur, Molière, Victor Hugo, Édith Piaf, Charles de Gaulle, Jean de La Fontaine, Simone Veil, Pierre de Coubertin, Arthur Rimbaud, Claude Monet, the Lumière brothers, Sister Emmanuelle, Georges Brassens, Albert Camus, Joséphine Baker and the Little Prince. Not to mention all the other unforgettable ones.
Your contribution to humanity is immense. Sure, you’ve been your share of idiots, but whatever their nationality, idiots are, most of the time, in the majority. That’s why The Dinner of Fools is a fiction, because at most tables, it’s the not stupid one who is hard to find! If I start to complain about society, it’s so that you don’t feel disoriented.
Almost 500 years ago, you came to spread to the other side. That gave us the funny North Americans that we are. The only ones to speak French, first. You can spend your time making us repeat, you can make fun of our accent, we continue to chat in the language that you left us. Because we are attached to it. Because these are the words used by our parents, our grandparents, our brothers, our sisters, our friends to love us. And we must admit that they are very well turned. We want to thank you for that. And thank all those who make us appreciate them, from François Villon to Zaho de Sagazan.
What do we wish for you, France? Less excess and more harmony. May the love of your country be the love of those who are part of it. May your awareness of the environment safeguard the beauty of your firmament. May your guide be, forever, the humanism of your philosophers and, never, the practicality of artificial intelligence.
And may all your arguments, your spats and your conflicts end in a big banquet between friends, like in Asterix.
July 14th is exactly what it’s for.
Happy Holidays, France!
I love you wherever you are, in Paris, in Provence, in Corsica or on the Plateau Mont-Royal!
Your culture helped me grow.