Sitting cozily on my bed in this quiet French village, I vaguely picture my far-away homeland, where lots of my female compatriots are currently jostling each other in the awfully stuffy sales space of department stores for boxes of chocolates.

In my reverie, I can't help but admire the women, who make huge sacrifices for the men around them, who I'm sure are handsome and wonderful, deserving such female devotion. Otherwise, I have a great deal of compassion for the girls.

Having scant chance to encounter such fabulous men in my personal life, I don't know much about Valentine chocolates. Actually I'd almost forgotten about the soon-to-be-Feb. 14 extravaganza until the middle of it last year, when I dragged my French companion down to the basement floor of a Ginza department store for sociological study.

As expected, Patrice soon began griping about the crowds, and I was aghast at the enhanced lineup of imported chocolates and their expensive price tags. Instead of chocolate, in a quiet opposite corner, I purchased for myself a bottle of shiokara to take back to France. We then quickly left the store.

St. Valentine's Day is celebrated in France as a day for lovers, but French girls are lucky enough not to offer chocolates. Instead, couples offer each other a little present such as a bouquet of flowers or go out for an intimate dinner.

Besides, French men -- like women -- don't wait for a specific date to declare their love: whenever there is a chance, every day becomes St. Valentine's Day.

As a timid-natured Japanese person I often admire the guts, freeness and passion of the French in matters of amour (love). What is most surprising is that pure romance can still transcend boundaries of age, money, social situation or gender.

I remember a sad "love story" related by a young Japanese male traveler who stayed at our B&B. He was lonely after being "dumped" by his girlfriend because he "worked too much and didn't spend enough time with her," even though he had "given her the Louis Vuitton bag she'd nagged him for." Well, if he'd been a French man, he would've surely dumped her before buying an expensive brand bag.

Meanwhile, a typical difference between the Japanese and the French must concern the "love-and-age" element.

Even growing older, French people don't stop looking for love and aren't afraid of showing their feelings. A Japanese friend, during a visit to France, was surprised to see old couples walking hand in hand and kissing. And believe me, in newspaper rencontre (encounter) columns, most people searching for a partner are aged between 50 and 80.

As I will soon turn 33, I fall right into the "loser dog" category, according to the infantile Japanese standard. But here, I can still stand high upon my dignity as one of many "charming young women," because we are "young" up to age 40 in France. (By the way, when I told French friends about the make-inu buzzword, men especially cried: "Send the girls over here!")

As for "marriage," it is not unusual for ordinary French people to walk down the aisle two or three times in their lifetime while separations are just as common -- some say that the divorce rate is as high as 50 percent today.

In general, when French couples don't care for each other anymore, they tend to conclude their relationship in a cooler way, even if they're married and have children. People who can be the most passionate lovers are also realistic people who believe that even marriage (or kids) can't lead them to the ultimate happiness in life.

My cheres compatriots, have you got chocolates this year? If not, please think before investing your hard-earned money, or at least don't buy those deplorable giri-choko -- as there is no such thing as "obligation" in love.

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: Feb. 11, 2006
(C) All rights reserved