What I Noticed During a Three-Hour Layover in Seattle

A culture shock report

Chez Janou in Paris, where you can get an excellent meal for about 18 euros

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Every late January I return to the Americas to teach at the Todos Santos Writers Workshop in Baja. My itinerary takes me through the Seattle airport where during a three hour layover I’m able to see my fellow Americans through a foreign lens. After that, my newly acquired French habits subside and fundamental American personality reasserts itself. For those few hours though, boy howdy, am I in culture shock.

Observations:

1. As the plane from Paris begins its descent into Seattle, I look out the window and think, what a rough and savage land! Practically a boom town. Has gold just been discovered here? Is the water safe to drink? Where are the 12^th century church spires? The 13^th century chateaux and windmills? Where the bastides and maisons de maîtres? (IKEA, yes, I see you. You are the same the world over.)

2. At 5’8”, I’m tall but not that tall. In France, I’m always pretty much the tallest person in the room, at the party, in the shop. In our friend circle there are a few guys whose (lack of) height requires me to stoop to perform the double cheek kiss. Every time I drop my sizable American ass onto one of those chic French metal chairs I pray. Here, I see I’m just normal-sized.

3. Conversations I overhear while standing in the aisle waiting to deplane: someone’s ex-husband has joined a cult; someone's house is now worth over two million, someone’s business earned a 12% profit during CoVid; someone’s gut health is not good; someone accidentally put in a tampon after having rubbed Tiger Balm on an achy shoulder.

4. American men: many of you are impressively buff, but would benefit from a session with the Queer Eye guys. For starters, put on some long pants and I beg of you, lose the flip flops.

5. There sure are a lot of different kinds of sports in this country.

6. Still a lot of very long false eyelashes in play, the ones that look like miniature car wash brushes.

7. I walk into an airport shop and call Hello! to the hipster behind the counter. After purchasing a pair of socks I say, “thank you, have a nice day, good bye!” I sound deranged. He says nothing.

8. Sandwiches! Bacon, lettuce, and avocado on lightly toasted sour dough, with an exuberant slap of mayonnaise. This is the food of the gods and it is not available in France.

9. No one discusses food while they’re eating it. They don’t discuss the type and quality of cheese on their three-cheese pizza, nor the specific type of vinegar in the salad dressing. They fail to recall slices of pizza they have enjoyed in the past, what kind of slices they’re looking to forward to enjoying in the future, and rumored excellent slices to be eaten elsewhere, which they must make an effort to procure and enjoy.

10. At our final lunch in Paris at Chez Janou we eat white bean soup with crumbled bacon, and lieu noir (a firm white fish) with aioli sauce, roast potatoes and vegetables. No dessert, but a perfect square of Montélimar nougat is served with the coffee. Cost for three people, including a decent bottle of white wine: €81,00. When we arrive in Seattle we make a beeline for Mi Casa Cantina on Concourse B. Mexican food! We each order a margarita, and a plate of carnitas nachos to share. Cost for two people: $83.

11. How can anyone afford to live here?

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