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I usually try to stay away from making general comparisons concerning the French, the Mexican and the American because the truth of the matter is I don’t consider myself an expert on any of these cultures.

Still, I can’t resist it sometimes.

When I was growing up in Puebla, we used to live in a Privada. This is usually a private lot of around 20 houses, all the same size and the same colour sharing a common walled patio. Although usually all the kids in the Privada would spend hours after school playing outside together, rarely did our parents invited each other over. Sure, they’d say hello to each other when coming or leaving the Privada or if you bumped into them at the supermarket and they’d even go knock on each other’s doors to borrow stuff, but they never really invited each other over, just because. Of course there are exceptions (and exceptions are precisely why I don’t like making general comparisons in the first place) and some moms did spend the afternoon sharing a coffee or a cigarette with la vecina. But it was not common practice. That was what the annual Posada de la Privada was about, where all the families pitched in and set out tables and chairs out on the patio and brought out home made dishes and everyone got together and laughed and drank until the wee hours of the morning… but always outside of the homes.

If you’ve ever watched a single episode of Desperate Housewives you can guess that things are much different in the US. You can live like a hermitage if you want, but common practice is to get to know your neighbours (and them you)… You invite them over for coffee, your kids baby-sit their kids, you go on neighbourhood watch outings together, you car pool with them, etc, etc, etc. (AGAIN, I am no expert here, only speaking on my personal observation)… And so your neighbours become your friends. Sort of. You invite them over and they come and sit and talk for hours in your living room or your kitchen. Still, there is no formal thing about it and yet, common practice is they stay in the “reception rooms” intended for that purpose (living room, sitting room, dining room and/or kitchen). So they do cross the threshold… but only so far.

In France things are significantly more formal than that, and yet… The first thing I realized when I moved to France is that there is no such thing as “meeting your neighbours”. Hubby and I lived in our old apartment for 4 years and never met a single person in that 100+ apartment building. Sure, we’d say “bonjour” a lot, but it never once turned into a “come over chez nous”. The day we were moving out, the couple living next door (and I mean adjoining next door) where also moving out and for some reason we got talking. It turned out they were our age, worked in the same fields as us and were a bi-cultural couple too! Yet we never knew this because neither of us ever made an effort to meet! We’ve been living in our place for almost 2 years now and again, we have yet to meet any of the people living in the 5 other apartments on our floor. The day of Hubby’s secret b-day party I went and knocked at our next-door neighbours’ door to let them know that we would probably be making a lot of noise. A friendly-looking girl open the door and I could tell her very first reaction was a mix of surprise and fear, as if no one had ever spontaneously knocked on her door. After I explained the purpose of my “visit” she smiled and said no problem and that was it! No introductions, no name or phone number exchanging, no “come in for a cup of café au lait” - nothin’! Granted, I didn’t make an effort either but I guess I’ve been living in this country too long.

And yet, once you DO invite friends over to your home, you not only open the doors to chez toi, you open them big and wide. No corner of the house is “off limits”. The first time someone comes over, it is actually common practice to give them a tour de l’appartement. That means taking them through each room, showing them all the closet space you have (and thus opening up each and every closet) and even showing them your master bedroom (that’s right folks, friends get a glimpse at your and hubby’s loooooooove shack, LOL)…. And that’s not all. Inviting someone over, even if it should be a neighbour (in the unlikely case you get up the courage to spark up a conversation in the elevator) is something of a formal thing. You prepare it well in advance, you confirm a date, you make sure you’re well stocked up for the apéro and have a respectable wine for the occasion and you clean out every single inch of your place (and don’t forget those closets!)…

Somehow, I doubt Gabrielle, Bree, Lynette and Susan would make good ménagères désespérées !!!

Fned.