By Michael Shook
Civilized. While wandering the streets of Paris back in May, that was the word that I thought of. Why civilized? Goodness knows, France has as many misguided actions as any other nation, but that only places them with humans in all countries and cultures. If we were to disqualify a nation on the basis of their faults alone, none would be thought of as civilized.
I found that three things contributed primarily to my perspective; food, architecture, and work. And I realized those three rested further on one principle, beauty. An appreciation of beauty, the notion that beauty is an essential part of a good life, that it may provide the soil from which a life, not just an existence, may grow.
It’s my impression that France calibrates its culture to enhance one’s life, rather than to try to direct it solely or predominantly for commerce, as we too often do here. Of course, there are a good many benefits to ordering things as we do in the States, but I do think we’ve taken the whole materialistic thing too far. And it seemed to me that, if things in France have to bend, they bend in a way to ease life a bit, to accommodate the humanity of a person as a living being. To me, that constitutes a form of beauty.
A ready example of this is the food. French cuisine has, of course, a (deserved) reputation as the epitome of culinary delight. And we certainly ate our fair share of scrumptious meals, followed by desserts whose ratio of simplicity to deliciousness defied description. And croissants, and bread (I did not eat a bad piece of bread the entire time we were there). And chocolate! At a tiny shop of a master chocolatier in Lyon, I had the best chocolate I’ve ever eaten. And wine, of course. The wine was fabulous, no matter where we were, whether a small cafe, or posh restaurant. The markets also deserve a good word. I have never seen such a tantalizing variety of produce, meats, and fish, all of it so vibrantly fresh, it seemed to glow.
What lay at the bottom of this amazing cornucopia was and is the bedrock principle that food is important, that it’s not just fuel to be sucked down in between tasks. It’s important enough that France has strict standards that guarantee the quality of the food, whatever it is. For example, a Twix candy bar in France has five ingredients. In America? Fifteen, depending on how one counts. Blech.
The architecture of Paris, and of the other cities and towns we visited, was almost uniformly beautiful. Regarding Paris, it helps that the city was laid out at a time when automobiles were not in existence, so that many of the streets have a friendly, pedestrian feel to them.
It also helped that, in 1853, Napoleon III gave Baron Georges-Eugene Haussmann unrivaled power to remake the city. It took 17 years, but the result was (and is) marvelous. The Paris of today owes its boulevards, its housing style, and its sewer system, among many other benefits, to those two (there’s something to be said for a mostly benevolent monarch’s ability to cut through red tape).
In addition to the man-made architecture of stunning monuments, exquisite public buildings (la Bibliotheque Nationale comes to mind), and the housing, there exists as well a living architecture: trees. Paris, and every town and village we visited, is adorned by English Plane trees, a hybrid between European sycamores and Oriental sycamores. I found them enchanting, more so than our American sycamores. The hybrid is slightly slender compared with its cousin from the colonies, and has, I think, more interesting exfoliation of its bark. The French keep them carefully pruned, emphasizing a broad, open crown that casts ample shade. Streets everywhere are lined with them, and each square as well has them situated so that one may sit comfortably out of the bright sun, sipping wine or coffee, and enjoying a pastry.
Last of this triad is work. Needless to say, work is important everywhere, but in France, it’s rarely the sole focus of one’s life. The 35-hour work week is mandated for blue-collar workers, though white-collar and independent business people routinely put in more than 40. All French have five weeks of paid vacation each year, plus 11 national holidays. And the minimum wage comes to about $20 US. Lunch break is usually two hours, often accompanied by wine.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, such a human-scale lifestyle, France’s economy is second only to Germany’s in terms of GDP and general economic health. And in terms of physical health, France is a good place to be. A World Health Organization survey, though somewhat dated now, rated France as having the best overall health care in the world – currently spending 11.3% of their GDP on health care, while the US spends 17.1%. Everyone is covered, even those (legally) waiting to become citizens.
A healthier work/leisure balance results in more time and energy to enjoy the precious gift of being alive. More time with family, friends, and community, more time to think, to pursue interests, to savor a good meal, and a good conversation.
France, as mentioned above, is hardly perfect. But civilized, in the best sense of that word? It is a thing of beauty.
