One thing I miss about France is, that in Ireland, I am completely invisible. In France, men openly appraise you - they look you up and down and comment on what they see 'beh, t'as maigri Kar-Hen!' they exclaim 'J'adore ton look aujourd'hui ma cherie' - very gay I know, but then it is hard in France to tell who is gay with the straight guys wearing white suits, tight capri style pants, pink scarves and more hair product than Jedward on a down day.
In France, a man will meet you for the first time with a flirtatious 'Enchanté' ( Enchanted to meet you - don't you love it?) while their eyes sweep over you, hovering openly on any assets you may have on display. In Ireland, you may get a handshake but the Irish dude will barely look you in the eye. Once you have broken eye contact and are not looking at him, he may, if he is feeling cheeky, chance a sneaky glance at your bum.
Flirting in France is a national pastime and for the most part, harmless, adding a bit of excitement and frisson to one's day. Flirting in Ireland, as far as I can see, only happens after 15 pints when the lads get brave and the lassies get brazen...
In the meantime, I'm busy falling in love again ... with Ireland, the only one seducing me these days! Vive L'Irlande!
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| Road to Eyeries from Allihies |
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| Colourful Skibbereen |
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| Broad Strand |
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| Simon's Cove |
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| My son's dream house 10 metres from the sea |
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| Moyross |
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ReplyDeleteLoving your blog, Karen, and welcome home! One comment though...where you lived is very different to where I lived (Lower Normandy). The men were nothing like you describe, in behaviour, OR in dress....I missed the natural charm of Irish men when I lived there. Mind you, Parisian men match your description totally...I suppose its a huge country :) Bon courage, et Vive l'Irlande!
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