Diary of My Country Life-October 23rd, 2026

The original source of this blog: https://www.lotusandmichael.com/blogs/diary-of-my-country-life

10/23/2026 Friday 43-62F Sunny 

I like watching French movies, especially Eric Rohmer’s. He basically was the one who led me to French movies. But some friends always told me that they disliked French movies, because “They often talk too much.” 

I also like watching Japanese movies, especially like the ones directed by Yasujiro Ozu, Akira Kurosawa, Hayao Miyazaki, some of which I have watched dozens of times. But my friends still disagreed “They are too boring— people don’t talk.” 

Well, either way just can’t satisfy some people. I accept it, though my favorite top four movies are all American movies.  

Why did I mention this?  Because it makes me think of what people use to say about the French— ”they are arrogant.” 

Knowing that I picked France for my next tour, some friends “kindly” reminded me: “Why do you want to go there? They are too arrogant. You can choose many other countries to go which are even cheaper and better.” 

I felt a little confused. In the past of my life, I never met a French person; all I knew about them were from books and movies, from which I learned that they seemed to talk more often about literature, art, philosophy etc., in their daily lives than people from many other countries. However, I don’t think there’s anything wrong. The thing is about how they talk instead of what they say. For example, when they by chance mention art, they say it naturally with their own thoughts, as if the “supreme” art were just the bakery down the street. I may disagree with their opinions, but I fully agree with their attitude. Only when you already put yourself in an inferior position, whatever others do is just like showing off to you.  

Ignorance leads to arrogance in most cases. 

So regardless of what others said to me, I proceeded with my plan—I needed to see and feel it myself. In fact, after the one-week's stay in France, basically only near Paris, my conclusion about people there is just the opposite: They are friendly, sensitive, and attentive. 

The first day when we arrived at the village where we would be staying, we couldn’t find our house because the host didn’t give us the exact address number. We searched here and there with the exterior photo of the house, finally caught a neighbor’s attention. Since we couldn't speak French and he didn’t know English, he google-translated our words, checked the photos we showed him, called our host, and led us to the house in person. He waited outdoors to make sure we checked in and everything was ok, then gave us a few tips about where to find groceries and bakery nearby so we could settle down. It took him more than thirty minutes to do all this for us, and he expected nothing from us. 

Later on, when we bought a bottle of wine and brought it to his house as our gift, he happily took it, chatted with us about our trip, and of course gave us more tips about where he recommended us to visit. 

The acquaintance we made with O was even more coincidental. The first afternoon after we unpacked our things, we did a little shopping in the local food market—Carrefour Contact. On the way home along the street, someone drove by, then stopped. “I like your clothes. Where did you buy them?” He asked my husband, grinning. 

We were wearing our slubbie that day. My husband gave him our business card and started the conversation. Hearing that we were from the USA, he was thrilled: “I and my family lived there for ten years in Washington DC.”   

So another common ground we found about each other. That evening after dinner, we sat in the little courtyard sipping our wine, my husband got an email from O’s wife C: They invited us for a drink at their house. After that meeting, they invited us again to join their morning dog walk.  

We had two beautiful conversations with them, in their yard and along the canal. Amazingly we had so many things in common and always had a lot of things to share with each other. Even if occasionally, we disagreed, they kept their minds open and appreciated the difference. They were very knowledgeable and modest, and friendly.  

The afternoon before we left, O and us ran into each other again on the street (somehow there must be a mysterious connection between us 😂). We bid farewell, promised that we would let this friendship continue. Next day after our return to the USA, we got O’s message to check in. 

They kept us in mind, just like we remembered them. It’s not only about politeness, which means being social, but something more than that: We appreciate that we could recognize and find similar sorts in a totally unexpected situation, and we are delighted to further develop our friendship. What a great pleasure! 

The farmhouse where we lived had a shared courtyard. One morning when we sat in the yard drinking coffee, the door of one neighbor’s house opened, the family stepped out: The kid, the husband, and the wife. 

They suited all my imaginations about a traditional French country family. The little boy was super cute, wearing a pair of shorts, and his skin was purely snow-white; the bearded husband wasn’t very tall, but handsome in a humble way; the wife was in a plaid flannel shirt, slender, tall, and pretty.  

“So cute!” I praised, fixing my eyes on the boy since it would be too rude to stare at the adults. But in fact, my claim was to the whole family. “Thank you!” The wife responded, then retreated into her house. 

The family lives in a lovely, cute farmhouse. From the opened door, I could see there was a big backyard with grassy ground, a ping pong table, and a wood trellis tied with a pink curtain. The husband owned an electric car, plus an electric scooter parked in the shared courtyard. He rode the scooter to take his boy to school, and to go shopping. But I did see him charge his car as well. We didn’t talk much. Unlike O and C, they were a little shy and quieter. They rarely showed up in the courtyard; perhaps they left it to us on purpose. And from their partially opened window, I could hear their music, radio, and occasional talks. But all the sounds they made were at a very pleasantly low volume. If we were home at dusk, I could see the yellow light coming through their window and skylights, smell and hear them cooking which made me salivate all the time. 

I didn’t know them much; from the very few glimpses, I felt I liked them a lot. Having such a home and all the coziness, a man shouldn’t want to stop elsewhere. 

Many times when we took photos on the streets, people stopped their cars or walks waiting for us to finish; on the roads, all the drivers purposely drove along the lane lines so they could give more space in-between to motorcyclists (due to the very limited number of lanes which didn’t allow the motorcyclists to have their own lane); people, whether in the village or out of the village, always greeted us and each other with “Bonjour”; again, the streets were very clean and decorated with blooming flowers like gaura and anemone; the environment was tranquil; one day we even noticed that the air quality index was 3. Wow! 

Lucky that we came to France to see and feel it in person; lucky that we spent most of our days in the country areas to enjoy the beauty and tranquility like the locals instead of in downtown Paris—we are not the city or sight-seeing type; lucky that we discovered a place which combines very well with history, culture, Nature, responsibilities and sophistication; lucky that we met kind, nice people there; lucky that it made us feel like home.