I've always wondered why I still write things in French. I've never felt like I was French. From as far as I can remember, I've never felt at home in France. I don't share any cultural reference. I don't share the way of thinking. I don't like the system, the social rules, the gregarious ways, the nuclear plants, a certain lack of hygiene, the nasty administration and I don't like the food either _ pastry excepted. I've always felt like a complete foreigner in France.
In primary school, I met a bunch of retarded kids who had never left the shithole (village) where they were born and who would easily call me "macaroni". I guess they just repeated what their brainless parents, who had never left the shithole (village) where they were born, were saying at home... The very same parents who are now retired and go to Italy every summer. At least, you will have learnt something in your outstanding life, dummkopfs... Buongiorno, grazie, arriverderci!!
Those bobo kids that were at school with me, now have children themselves. And what are their fist names? Enzo, Luca, Giulia, Chiara... Che figata ! LOL.
So no, I've never felt French. But from that rather neutral ground, I've slowly slipped into a more negative feeling towards this country. I've started hating it. I've started doing everything I could to deserve my "macaroni" title. I would have done (and still do) anything not to be French.
This strong, deep rejection has never left me. I love my country and this is Italy, whatever my shameful passport says. I wish I could spend the rest of my life there indeed, but the circumstances won't allow. My biggest regret so far is not to have been able to move back to my country once and for all. I spent years in Switzerland and in Sweden, two countries that I really love, but I know my life would have been so much more fulfilling, so much better, if I had spent every single day of it where I truly belong. It would have been close to Heaven. Maybe. Obviously, Italy is the next best place after Heaven (might actually be even better, as we are not so sure Heaven exists, are we?).
So midlife time and I'm stuck in a country I despise. How does that feel? Wrong.
This said, the very place where I live, in the South-East (Provence), shares quite a lot of its history, culture, weather and traditions with Italy. Also, I like some people here, I even call a few of them my friends. When it comes to human beings, it's never totally black. There are some decent, good people in France (and maybe some stupid, evil Italians, this I do not know...). But you can't take away the natural affinities, the fact that you'll get along instinctively with people who think and act like you do. The fact that you'll feel better at home, eating what you've been genetically programmed to eat.
On a daily basis, I rarely speak French. Since 2009, I live with my Swedish partner and we mainly communicate in English. He doesn't speak French and I need to work on my Swedish to get fluent. Most of our friends speak English, Swedish, Italian... We don't interact with many French people. I'm aware that I'm losing my spoken French (my brain is faster with English now). But sometimes I wake up at night and fail to fall asleep again. And some words come. And they're French. I could write whole pages at 3 AM, all in French. I guess the fact that this is the first language I've learnt counts a lot. Now that I've started to write this blog, I can see I have a tendency to write negative, hateful, painful things in French and the "rest" in English.
When it comes to writing, there is probably two drawers in my brain: one filled with peaceful, joyful treasures and labelled in English, the other one, featuring all the poison of the past, labelled in French.
It's a beautiful language though, "la langue française". It's demanding. It's subtle. It's confusing. But once you've learnt it, you can't help but think that was worth it.
It's extremely odd for me to feel a sort of sadness when I see the way French people mistreat their language these days. So many mistakes, such a lack of knowledge... It's like words have no meaning anymore.
If I were French, I would be seriously worried...