Hey, optimism – you’re annoying

AIX-EN-PROVENCE, France - I consider myself a pretty open-minded person.

It’s an attribute I take great pride in, and one that’s vital for study abroad – after all, no matter how similar a country might seem to the U.S., the cultural differences are bound to be innumerable.

I’ve learned, though, that just as innumerable are the approaches students take to cope with them – or, in other words, just how open-minded one chooses to be.

First, and most annoyingly, there’s the approach of the obsessive optimist – the student who romanticizes the host country to the extent where in his or her eyes, the country can do no wrong.

Sure, I love Nutella crepes and French cheese, too, but I know for a fact that every time you pop a piece of baguette smeared with camembert into your mouth, it’s not the orgasmic experience you paint it to be. Oh, and the post office being on strike? Interesting, sure, but not that endearing.

The next approach is only less off-putting in that it’s easier to ignore. Yes, faux-expert, approach No. 2 is dedicated to you.

I get it. You’re here to observe the cultural differences of France. But here’s a fun fact: Everyone read the same books and took the same classes as you, so when you come up with some contrived, long-winded explanation for every cultural tic, everyone around you knows you’re not speaking from personal experience and are in all likelihood just making it up. Conjectures, while fun to ponder and discuss, aren’t fact.

Let it go.

While the optimists are the most annoying, I can say without hesitation that my least favorite studiers abroad are the pessimists.

You know the type. They might not be as loud as the faux-experts or as grating as the peppy people, but the pessimists have that rare quality of repelling everyone around them with almost every word that comes out of their mouths.

To support this argument, I bring you an unedited conversation from a birthday dinner I attended last week.

“It’s been 45 minutes! When are they bringing us our food? This is ridiculous.”

“Uh, the French usually take three hours for dinner. It’s a cultural thing.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Of course, the most common way to cope with such unfamiliar surroundings involves combinations of and fluctuations between the optimist, pessimist and faux-expert.

For example, last night I found myself taking a 15-minute walk through the city alone – and for 10 minutes of it, I was followed and cat-called by a small group of creepy Frenchmen, who only left me alone when I reached a group of people from my program.

The optimist kept me from wetting myself in sheer terror, the faux-expert knew it was a typical case of French men being far more aggressive than their American counterparts and the pessimist, well, she was the one terrified and hyperventilating when I came upon my classmates – who I’m still convinced are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

Oddly, the pessimist won that battle, because no matter how deep of an understanding I could have of the dynamics between men and women in France, creepy men are creepy men.

Maybe sometimes it’s best to keep that mind closed.