Sundays in the US versus France and Other EU Countries

Newcomers to the EU often have fantasies about their former Sunday mornings spent surrounded by a pile of newspapers and quietly sipping coffee. Perhaps they’d indulge in a leisurely breakfast comprised of eggs, pancakes or cereal before their real day began. Sunday was the day of the “fat” paper before many of the supplements were delivered on Saturdays. But it’s simply not that way in France. If you crave big Sunday newspapers, you’ll have to buy ones that are published in the U.K.

French families traditionally join together at Sunday lunch and major papers aren’t published.  Lunch is a ritual that’s less frequent now, as family members are more mobile and settling in other areas to pursue jobs or educational opportunities. But Sundays still have a special meaning in France; for most, it’s a day of rest, reflection and preparing for the upcoming week. Some people attend church. The majority don’t.

In the US, people often spend Sundays shuttling children from here to there.  It’s amazing how many sports and other events take place on the alleged “day of rest.”  Many parents complain of their status of being non-stop chauffeurs in addition to an always enthusiastic cheering squad. Recent expats tend to carry on this tradition since it’s an acquired habit.

Contrasted with the French, many Americans maximize their Sundays by doing the week’s shopping. It’s the norm for stores to be open rather than closed. The weekend (both Saturday and Sunday) represents a huge percentage of the week’s sales for clerks totaling up at cash registers nationwide. Shopping centers in the US have taken on an entirely new meaning, form and function since the days when I was young. Parents and offspring go their separate ways, and kids hang out and socialize while their parents hit the stores.

Not that the kids aren’t doing their fair share of shopping as well, since a teen mind is a malleable one. And, who hasn’t witnessed a young child having a meltdown in front of a store window because she or he can’t have a specific must-have item? Some parents cave in while others stand firm in their resolve about not pulling out their wallets. My brother finally got smart and now tells his six-year-old daughter to add the article in question to her Christmas or birthday list. American children are pros at making parents feel guilty; they’re products of genius marketing campaigns targeting them and their specific tastes. Watch American television with your children and you can anticipate what they’ll request upon entering a store.

Shopping centers (many with multiple connecting buildings) seem to go on forever, necessitating a map. Thank goodness for cell phones or many families might never see one another again. Ditto for cars, which, unless you mark the number on the parking ticket, seem to get lost in a sea of never ending vehicles of all shapes and sizes. These centers are springing up in France as globalization marches on.

Huge movie theaters are frequently the ‘anchors’ of these enormous shopping centers. Even though the French are avid moviegoers, it’s only relatively recent that more than three tiny theaters (located in the same place) have begun to pop up in France. Another sign of said globalization; welcome to the age of the (international) multiplex.

But back to the newspapers; in the short time I’ve been in the US; they appear to be overtaking my life. I couldn’t wait to subscribe to the daily edition of the Washington Post and the Sunday edition of the New York Times. All I have to do is open the door to our apartment each morning and voila! And to think this luxury is so very cheap—rather than buying a copy of the International Herald Tribune at the kiosk in Paris for 2 euros.

But wait a second. I’m tempted to cancel the paper subscriptions and return to reading newspapers online, as I’ve been doing in France since many of them launched on the Internet. I was always convinced that I was missing out on content which I would have read if I had the physical paper. There’s no doubt that I’ve been missing out on so many advertising supplements and spending hours cutting coupons for a 30 cent reduction on a product I’ve never used. I like saving money as much as the next person, but am I really going to drive and extra 10 miles, when gas costs over $3.00 per gallon,  to save a couple of dollars? I don’t think so.

Reading newspapers online may have some disadvantages. Conversely, I don’t have ink on my hands and furniture; don’t see ads for something I may have purchased at a much more expensive price. Plus, I can read French papers and ones from different countries that promote different views. Nor do I have to make pilgrimages to the newspaper recycling bin located in the apartment building’s basement.

I know better than to toss the Sunday comics, for fear of an immediate divorce from the addict to whom I’m married. But I spend more time throwing sections out than reading what’s relevant to my life and interests. I don’t salivate over the sports pages, don’t relish reading real estate ads for properties listed for sale within 50 miles of the Nation’s Capital, am not a car junkie on the hunt of this year’s “in” model, and don’t need or want a new washer or a dryer.

There are definitely sections of the papers which I do read and wouldn’t live without. But, it’s just as easy to read them online and not feel guilty over having a trash bag filled with eight pounds of newspapers each week. And that doesn’t include the magazines which are quickly piling up.

Thank goodness there’s recycling, but I’m beginning to feel as if I’m personally responsible for the demise of a tree. If they must be sacrificed, I’d rather have them die for a book. There are so many wonderful ones to read in the world – and I’m not alluding to ones generally found in bookstores at airports.  I have my own mentors and guides. One is Jesse Kornbluth, The Head Butler. Another is Odile Hellier of The Village Voice Book Shop in Paris. Both have shaped my reading tastes. Neither of them is often wrong. 

Each day I’m in the US, I’m amazed how my attitudes have changed. Perhaps it’s a function of age, but I tend to think not.

© Karen Fawcett
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