My friend’s text makes me laugh: Argument in our car: everyone but Dad, “We are late.” Dad, “the invite was for any time after 3, so we are not late.” Everyone else, “We are so late.”
Follow-up: We arrived 20 min late. And by far the first to arrive.
****
I am 22 or 23, living in Washington, DC. Somehow, I’ve fallen in with a crowd of young French people who are here largely working for the French government. We meet up for drinks, go out dancing, and generally spend a lot of time being young and single with few obligations in a city full of things to do. Eventually, I am invited to a dinner party at the home of the one married couple in our group.
I’m pleased that I am officially part of the crowd (and secretly proud that my French is good enough for this invitation), but I play it cool. I’ve lived in France for a year of study abroad, so I know that French time is different from American time. I plan my arrival carefully, and show up a full half hour after the suggested time.
I am by far the earliest. Seriously by far.
Anne is gracious. She offers me a peeler and asks me to help with the potatoes. We chat as she finishes getting ready for her guests. By the time the others arrive, a slow trickle starting about 45 minutes later, I’m at ease. The rest of the evening goes well.
Over the next few months, I learn to arrive on Paris time (or young-person Paris time): at least an hour after the time of the invitation. It’s hard, but I manage. Then one night, at another dinner, a slightly tipsy conversation partner leans over and says, “Anne dit qu’elle n’a plus besoin de planifier quelquechose pour t’occuper.” (Anne says she doesn’t have to plan something to keep you occupied anymore.) I must have blushed, but he didn’t notice.
Over drinks later that week, Anne ‘fessed up. “Oh yes,” she laughed, “I had heard about Americans arriving extremely early, and how they like to be useful. So I saved a task for you to do when you arrived. And it worked!”
****
Looking back, I marvel at how each of us tried to adapt to the customs of the other. No wonder we remained friends for several more years, even visiting each other when I lived in France again.
If I were to find her now, I suspect Anne would shake her head fondly and say, “Yes, I have heard about how you Americans hop from friendship to friendship. We French, we keep our friends for a long time” and then, she’d probably hand me a peeler and some potatoes, and we could sit down with plenty of time to catch up before the others arrived, both late and perfectly on time.
Persistence and Pedagogy 
I laughed at both of your attempts to adjust to one another’s customs, especially Anne’s. And I have BEEN there with the being-the-first-to-arrive thing (after living in Spain and being with a Dominican). The ending of the slice made me sad, and had me wondering: Do we Americans tend to hop from friendship to friendship? I remember in Spain how so many stayed so close to their childhood friends, big groups. But here, it’s not as common to find. I have moved around a lot, so it’s challenging to hold onto friendships. But my boyfriend gave me a compliment the other day that he sees me as someone who does a good job keeping up with friends and family no matter how far. I suppose it’s all to do with the perspective. And luckily, as with your imagining of Anne, with most of the friends, whether we’re in touch or not, I’m sure we’d fall right back into it upon seeing one another.
LikeLike
A beautiful friendship story!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love everything about this story. I am an on time person, which to me means about 10 minutes early. It’s been hard for me to adjust to the Canadian way of being just a bit late, or arriving at the time that the event was supposed to start. Is this Canadian? Or just the Nearly-Northern Ontario way? I love the way Anne found a job for you so you would feel comfortable arriving on time. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love Anne, and the sweet and gracious way she worked around your cultural differences. And her characterization of Americans liking to be “extremely early” and “being useful.” I guess that’s pretty true, isn’t it?
And I love the way you brought your Slice to a close, right there in the kitchen with you, Anne, the potato peelers, and some marvelous conversation and friendship. Beautiful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a great illustration of friendship possibilities and also the way they can shift over time. Navigating cultural expectations around time is a fascinating realm to explore through story. You do that almost effortlessly here, particularly with your closing reflection colored by age and experience.
LikeLike
This is gorgeous. And really, I kind of love being old enough that peeling potatoes in an old friend’s kitchen is a beautiful thing
LikeLike
This is such a beautiful story! The portrayal of Anne–thoughtful enough to plan a way to make you comfortable–and your friendship made me smile. I love your ending, imagining seeing her now, and those last words: “both late and perfectly on time.” Gorgeous!
LikeLiked by 1 person