La rentrée

"A la rentrée!"--along with "Bonnes vacances!", it's the last phrase on everyone's lips as they head joyfully off on long July and August vacations. It means "(see you) at the return" or more literally, the re-entry, as I like to think of it. Because after the famously long French vacation (5 weeks per year mandatory, most of it taken in late summer), you've been away so long that you do feel like you're re-entering--like astronauts re-entering the earth's atmosphere after orbiting around in space. Re-entering the world you left behind after what seems like eons of days that you experienced in the slow-motion time warp of vacation. And from a distance that often seems as great as that to the moon, if you've spent those weeks in a very different culture or perhaps halfway around the globe.

Paris seems a different city from when I left at the beginning of August. Leaves are already beginning to fall from the plane and chestnut trees. Children who were listlessly trailing after their mothers on the summer sidewalks are now back in school clothes, playing boisterously during recess in Parc Monceau a block away. I can hear their voices with the windows open. Most of the tourists are gone, and so are the parking spaces that seemed to open miraculously as the population began its exodus in midsummer. I feel as if I've been gone a long time.

Amid all the criticism that the length of French vacations generates among us Calvinist Americans, there's no small amount of envy, I think. After all, five weeks annually of mandated-by-law, paid vacation, which doesn't even include innumerable official holidays and the extra days off associated with them--is a luxury most Americans can only dream of.

But here, it's not viewed as a luxury, but rather as a necessity to the well-being and balance of the human spirit. A basic human right, if you will. Because French people who work, work very hard. You may be surprised, in view of all that vacation time, to learn that the productivity of the French worker is among the highest in the world. It's another of those French paradoxes, like how they're are able to wolf down those enormous, multi-course lunches and dinners--never without dessert--and remain thin.

At least, it seems paradoxical--at first blush--that taking huge amounts of time off would make for higher productivity. But in fact, those long vacations have a lot to do with the high productivity that ensues. People return in September truly rested and refreshed, having had a long enough break from the daily grind to create a total rupture with routine. They've been away so long, it feels good to get back to work! They're actually happy to see their coworkers again. Even the ones they found most insufferable are greeted with good cheer. You might say, "Work hard, and play hard" is the motto here.

I'm sure this spirit is the main reason that September is one of my favorite months in Paris. Not only has the summer's heat departed, leaving mellow warmth with a crisp edge, but Parisians' tensions and aggressivity seem to have disappeared along with the heat. Everywhere you go, there are warm and pleasant exchanges. Even the most curmudgeonly people seem radiant in September.

All my favorite shops are open again, thank goodness! And as I make the rounds shopping, it takes twice as long as usual, because I--along with all the other customers--are exchanging delighted greetings with the merchants. You enquire about vacations (mandatory), whether "c'est bien passé". The degree of bronzage (tanning) is always remarked upon as an indicator of just how bien passé that vacation really was. And you just generally take the time to have an even longer conversation than usual.

Just like my fellow Parisians, I'm glad to be back to work. I hope all my hard-working American readers forgive me my month off, and that not a small number of you enjoyed some lazy August days away from your usual routines, including sitting in front of your computer screens. Welcome back!

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