Tales Of A Yankee Frog

Le Petit Grignotage
Christine

The French have been in Asia since the 1600s, when Jesuit missionaries forayed onto the ancient continent and established themselves among the natives. Although the Portuguese were the first to evangelize Vietnam, the French Jesuits left a more permanent mark. (French Jesuit Alexandre de Rhodes developed the Romanized version of the Vietnamese alphabet in use today.) In 1887, France officially occupied a tongue of land jutting just below China, encompassing Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, called L’Indochine. France remained, off and on, until she was driven out by the communist Viet Minh in 1954.

It was the French who westernized Vietnam, and her influence can be felt everywhere: in the architecture, food, music, and, language. The Saigon Notre Dame Basilica , for instance, was built by French architect J. Bourard in Roman-Gothic style, based on the similarly named cathedral in Paris. All the stones, tiles, and stained glass were imported from France. Vietnamese cooking has incorporated the baguette, patés chauds, cheese, butter, sweetened condensed milk (for its hot or iced coffee), and any number of other French elements. The Vietnamese people’s fondness for ballroom dancing can be attributed directly to exposure to French music, and a dialect called Vietnamese French is spoken in the country to this day, which, as the name suggests, consists of a combination of both tongues.

Not least is the French influence felt among the people themselves, who intermarried and produced what some have called the loveliest of all Eurasian blends. It was during the tempestuous years after the end of World War II, when British, Indian, and French troops wrested control of Vietnam from the Japanese and restored French rule, that one Colonel Dante Rouichede met and fell in love with a Vietnamese jewelry shop owner. Although theirs was a short-lived union (he was flown to France after a serious head injury and never heard from again), their marriage produced two girls. They named the elder one Fatima, and her French father chose that she be born a French citizen. Fatima, once grown and married, made the same choice for her own three children.

One of those children is, of course, me, your humble correspondent. When most Vietnamese girls are running around with unpronounceable names like Ngoai and Thuyet and Nguyen, I was given the far more sonorous, far more French Christine. And, more importantly, when refugees were escaping the communist plague by boat and dying at sea, we were given one-way plane tickets to France. When immigrants were struggling to find work and accommodations in a foreign country, my family was given a monthly stipend by the government and inexpensive housing.

And when would-be travelers to France are bogged down with the details of obtaining a long-stay visa (complete with FBI criminal background check, bank account statements, and proof of insurance, not to mention a physical exam once on French soil), all I need do is renew my Carte Nationale D’Identité and I am free to stay as long as I like. When my husband received the news from his supervisor, who will be on sabbatical in Cambridge, that he would be studying at the University in Dijon for a year, and that his school would provide the grant to do so, we were, quite naturally, pleased. Of course, bringing along two tres jeunes enfants to live in a foreign country adds a twist, but we are game. We don’t leave until September, and so this summer is being spent listening to Pimsleur, watching every episode of French in Action, picking up where I left off translating Jules Verne’s 20,000 Lieues Sous le Mer, and playing French Muzzy for the children a thousand times. Once I receive my birth certificate from Nantes, it’s the French Consulate in Chicago to obtain my passport. And then, off we go.

Till then, mes chers, I shall continue to bring you all that’s of interest from the land where the wine is rich, the cheese is soft, and the meat (except for the Bresse coq) is tender.

You can read more from Christine at her own blog, Laudem Gloriae.

Comments

[Father M.]

Your mom's name is Fatima? Very wonderful! By the way, when in Dijon you will only be 1800 Kilometers from the other Fatima!

[Christine]

I hadn't known we'd be so close. You've just given me an idea...

It's easy to forget the proximity of other countries to France because one assumes the European continent is much larger than it is. France is only the size of Texas, after all; England's only the size of North Carolina. Two countries with histories longer and grander than many, and yet together they barely add up to two of our states.

[Father M.]

When in Fatima you can stay here on retreat, right next to the relic museum:

www.casaaltaroyallodge.com

[Christine]

Amazing! And perfectly reasonable prices. Thanks for the tip!

[Mrs. Peperium]

"Not least is the French influence felt among the people themselves, who intermarried and produced what some have called the loveliest of all Eurasian blends."

Very true.

I know a Thuyet and a Nguyen. Both were refugees and are remarkably beautiful women without a trace of French blood. Their daughters are...oh my...

[Mr. Peperium]

Another (ironic?) instance of East meeting West: the town of Fatima was named--during the Islamic occupation of Iberia--after one of Mohammed's daughters.