French whinery: a Sunday story

A little anecdote from a recent trip

This wasn’t my train, but this is what it felt like on Friday!

Here’s a scenario:

It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve just squeezed myself onto a train that goes from Montpellier to Sète (where I’m staying in the south of France). It’s 4:57pm. The crowds are so unbelievable, the only experience that parallels it is the Beijing metro during rush hour.

As I manage to shove my way on board (I lived in China, and know how to shove), I end up standing in the aisle between a young woman in a houndstooth coat (I’ll call her Houndstooth) and a guy in a hoodie who’s on his phone. It was a Jenn sandwich.

Luckily, I only had 17 minutes to ride on this horror show, so as we are being squeezed in, I’m not terribly bothered.

However, plenty of other people are bothered.

Amidst the crowd of ‘people sandwiches’, there’s a lot of mumbling and grumbling. One person exclaims it was too bad the others couldn’t get on, but we need to leave the station!

While we are all pressed up against each other, the people on the platform are desperately trying to get in. They repeatedly press the button to open the train door. Every time someone does that, there’s a wave of groans followed by a cry of “Noooo!” then a collective sigh and grumblings. We were at max capacity and couldn’t leave the station until this was resolved.

Then, a guy who’s in the middle of the train car raises his voice to say, “My girlfriend is stuck outside. Can you please let the people by the door know that I have saved a seat for her and help her come in?”

Houndstooth half-heartedly complies with his request with a weak, “there’s a man here whose girlfriend is outside. Can you let her in?” but she doesn’t speak up loudly enough. So, about 5 minutes later, the young man asks again and adds “fait un effort, s’il vous plaît!” (Make an effort, please!)

After that, Houndstooth, who was muttering under her breath the whole time anyway, eventually mumbles, “I made an effort. I’m a nice person but I’m not that nice...” in a rather superior and sarcastic manner. She was talking to herself loud enough so people could hear. And that’s the key: when you grumble, if you do it loudly enough, maybe someone will hear you and want to commiserate.

I attempt to join in on the camaraderie around our situation. Before the train finally departs, there’s a woman on the outside who was knocking on the window and moving her hand as if to say, “keep moving inside the train so I can get on.” We all scoff at her ‘guidance’ because it was clear we had no room.

So after we shuffled a tiny bit forward, I mutter to Houndstooth sarcastically, “two centimeters” as if to say, we moved about an inch… but it didn’t make any difference. Houndstooth looked back at me with a nod of agreement.

The art of French grumbling is actually an amusing part of the culture. I am sure books have been written about it.

It’s the checkout lady at the supermarket muttering to herself when an old man puts something heavy on the checkout belt, saying how ridiculous it is.

It’s the lady in front of me on the bus to town, who has a running commentary about the traffic we’re sitting in while looking around and sizing people up.

It’s knowing there is nothing you can do about a situation, or that there are stupid people in the midst, so you might as well bitch under your breath to feel better. In these situations, French people can talk to each other with a clever sarcasm that either shows they are on the same side or insinuates the other person is an idiot. (Keep in mind this is a society that knows how to have a healthy debate and leave their differences at the door afterwards. It’s all fairly harmless, and their freedom of expression is clear.)

French people exercising their right to freedom of expression

The French word for ‘grumbling’ is râler. This YouTube video (with English subtitles if you choose) explains very well the signs, pouts and expressions the French dish out when annoyed or even angry. There is even a thread on Reddit about French complaining!

I myself have even grumbled in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, which features a swarm of tourists. I know. I’m a brat. :)

I just want to add that I am absolutely charmed by the way in which French people complain or express disdain. It’s almost like the verbal form of a shrug or being powerless over stupid people, places or things.

Want to experience it for yourself? Just go to a French train station when a train is delayed by more than an hour and you’ll hear mutterings and grumblings all around. In fact, I’ve had two occasions this year where a train was delayed for so long, that when the platform was finally announced, people clapped. As if to say, “Bravo, assholes!”