Operation Moules Frites: Accomplished

Anastasia was good for her word. Her cousin Laure was in town for the "holiday," and she took us to the seaside town of Etretat: the ocean, pebbly beaches, a golf course (of all things,) nestled among spectacular cliffs (Monet did a painting of one of them- there was a little display showing the painting right in front of what inspired it) and that simple North Coast France delicacy, moules frites. These are not, as the literal translation implies, fried mussels, but rather mussels with fries. Like the English fish ‘n chips. Only better, they assure me.
Mussel greenhorn that I am, I was skeptical. But ready to try anything. We were each brought a big pot, with a little one on top for the empty shells, along with a big platter of fries for us to share. The fries were cold- nothing to write home about (although I am). We weren’t even brought ketchup (or mayonnaise), and I didn’t know whether it was permissible to ask for ketchup, although it seems mussels and fries are low-brow enough that anything goes- Anastasia even ordered a—get ready for this—coke to go with them.
Exploring the French shellfish- soft drink taboo, it seems that with fancy dishes- like oysters- one is expected to drink fancier drinks- like wine or champagne. It isn’t necessarily disgusting to drink Coke with oysters or potates gratin à la dauphinoise, just not as well-bred. But if you’re young and eating with young people you don’t care as much. In fact, Annemarie served me and her sister Coke with lunch the other day—but only because her parents weren’t around.
The mussels themselves we ordered cooked in white wine with parsley and herbs. We ate them by first picking the meat out of a little shell and then using that shell as pincers to grab the meat out of the other shells. This didn’t keep our hands from getting sticky, but it was fun. I have to say they were delicious. Because they were delicious- as long as you didn’t look at them. That way they seemed like slightly brine flavored, tender morsels of meat. However, looking revealed something down-right organ looking. And when you then ate it…you couldn’t help thinking of little mussel brains squishing between your teeth (was that what the black squiggly looking stuff was?)
Similarly, it’s a little easier to be American with your eyes closed. I’m reading an article on Islamistes—oddly enough in a French magazine, ostensibly dealing with their attitudes toward the French and their affect on France, but so far they’ve only talked about Arab nations and the United States. And yeah, I’d be pretty ticked off too if someone barged in and told me I had to wear a veil from head to food and eat merguez (north African sausage), but it seems like- apart from the war- this is what we are doing, at least from the Arab perspective. Why, how, I’m still not sure.
But how do you balance human rights violations with respecting another culture’s values and beliefs? Which just leads back to relativism: are human rights simply what you believe they are? So if you can convince yourself it’s just to force your beliefs on another country…the circle continues…
(I love y’all, don’t want to start huge heated nasty debate) Just finished re-watching Swing Kids- which always awakes the "there’s evil in the world we have to do something!!!" side in me…but what to do? How do you fight evil without creating more of it? How do you bravely confront it in all your bare naked honesty and weakness without falling prey to it? And how do you dance while doing it?
I know I’m naïve, and I know I’m here to open my eyes a bit…and I imagine several of you may be ready to supply me with lots of other information. But go easy on me a bit, ok? It’s painful, and I’m here among strangers, the vocal very small minority of which are ready to blame me personally for everything that’s going on, or at least my complex would lead me to believe so…whereas y’all are (for the most part) my countrymen (and countrywommyn) and we’re in it together…
It seems we’re a young, naïve country, when it comes down to it. Drink Coke with your oysters if you want. Do what tastes good. "Feel the flow, hear what’s happening—we’re what’s happening. Don’t you know, we’re the movers and we’re the shapers. We’re the names in tomorrow’s papers- up to us, pal, to show ‘em…*" Which is all well and good…"there’s a place for us," but not everyplace…not us exclusively…
Don’t get me wrong. I love the US, and I’m loving it more and more the longer I’m away from it. But it really doesn’t need to be everywhere
*"Our time," from Steven Sondheim’s "Merrily we Roll along," sung by recent high school graduates…but it kinda fits…
Things I’ve seen that were painted by Monet:
The Rouen Cathedral
La falaise d’Amont (the cliff of Amont)