With a lovely autumn passing by us, in November we were busy preparing for winter -- or precisely for the coming spring, because in this southwestern region of France the serious cold usually never lasts for more than a few weeks (although recently the country's western regions suffered freezing cold).

While Patrice, my companion, was cutting off dead branches, pruning trees and mowing the lawn for the last time this year, I raked up the last flock of fallen chestnut tree leaves (the tree, which produces pretty white or pink blossoms in spring, forms part of the typical French landscape) on the terrace and pulled out weeds and dead plants from my little vegetable garden.

Living on a 6,000-sq.-meter place in the quiet south European countryside may sound elegant to many, but in reality our life is not. Throughout the year, with the exception of winter, our bodies are covered by a multitude of medals of honor for our services to outside labor -- from tiny scratches and occasional cuts to insect bites and plant-caused rashes -- and often we lament the lack of help.

Actually, in order to lessen the pre-winter task, Patrice had asked a friend's 20-year-old son for help.

As a result, he got irritated because, despite promises to the contrary, the boy didn't show up.

"The kid doesn't even bother to call," he said furiously. "Young people in this country have become so irresponsible!"

Listening to his bitter grumbling, I felt slightly uncomfortable: First, I don't want to think that I live with an old man. Second, I know that Patrice himself missed a friend's birthday recently just because he had "overslept," and that he didn't even give her a call to apologize (naturally, she was furious for some time).

Later I went to talk to Henriette, a Dutch friend of mine who has lived in France for nearly 50 years. She is thus a genuine French expert and also my mentor to whom I often ask advice on how to survive in this foreign land, or sometimes to vent my spleen about my frustrations.

After listening to my story, she quietly said, "Oh don't be upset my dear, that kind of thing happens here on a daily basis!"

In France, to poser un lapin (a quelqu'un) -- literally meaning to "put a rabbit (on someone)" -- is not a pastoral tradition but actually refers to the prevalent habit of "standing someone up." (By the way, just being en retard (late) for an appointment is a rather admissible act here.)

Besides being shocking, this French habit is even more frustrating for us etrangers just because we do not understand its very motivation: I was very much unnerved the first time someone "put a rabbit on me" soon after I started living in France, angry the second time, then nearly developed a neurosis at the third.

The most annoying part was that often people did not explain why, or when they did, they did it in the coolest way by saying "O oui," and that because they just had a "contretemps (hitch)."

However, I realized that their lack of manners is due to nothing more than their capriciousness, and that there is actually a great advantage in it. I can also do the same to others when I feel like it without feeling too guilty, and all my frustration will disappear.

Although I haven't yet had a chance to put the lovely habit into practice, I've grown to admire French people as being wiser than us Japanese, or at least than our forefathers who committed hara-kiri for not keeping their word. Besides, there is a French expression that goes something like "Those who don't change their minds are the idiots."

Converted to a faithful believer in that saying, I'm not at all making a New Year's resolution here but am just content to say: Bonne et heureuse annee 2006! (Good and happy year 2006!)

I'd welcome any comments or opinions, in Japanese or English, about my column. You can write or fax me at The Weekly, or e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: Dec. 10, 2005
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