Bordeaux and Palmiers

I found this picture in my archives from a trip I took to Nice, in the South of France, in 2005. It’s nothing fancy: just the view from the hostel to a balcony across the way, two sets of pajamas drying from a clothesline. But for some reason, when I stood in our hostel room, it spoke to me. I’m finally starting to understand why.

There was always something in French–even Western European–culture that attracted me, even as a child. There are certain customs that have long since been removed from American daily life that still play a large part in the life of the average French person, including, but certainly not limited to, the use of the clothesline to air dry laundry.

There is something so quaint about the fact that even some of the highest ranking businessmen in Paris still hang their wet laundry from a line and let the air dry it. The fact that this tradition has kept on, even though most American families have a dryer and think nothing of using it constantly, reminds me of one of my favorite things about living in France: the pace.

This choice to allow laundry to dry itself throughout the day instead of blasting it with heat from a mechanical dryer is similar to the way in which the French seem to approach time in general. I have never seen a Frenchman, even a Parisian, as rushed as an American. They are famous for their long and luxurious meals here, but even walking down the street, I often have to remind myself that people are not walking slowly just to bother me, but because that’s the pace at which they walk. They’re not in enough of a hurry to be where they need to be to break their pace.

Perhaps it’s a stretch to say that this photograph says all of this. Maybe it’s just a pretty picture: a combination of Mediterranean colors and a quaint image. But to me, this picture speaks mountains, and every time I look at it, I am reminded to slow down, to breathe, to enjoy.

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