“French Kiss” in the Time of Corona
Ok, readers. Let’s make it clear (and honest) before we go any further. I am not going to talk about the French kiss. At least not the kind of French kiss you are all thinking of: the one with salivating tongues and slobber at the corner of the mouth. Not that I despise this, but it is not the sort of kiss I am talking about today. I’ll confess: like any newcomer to the articles’ market, I needed something catchy to grab your attention. Let me apologize for the misleading advertising.
But hold on! It’s not completely false. I am actually going to talk about kissing. And kisses. And France. In short, I’m going to talk about kisses and kissing in France. I’ll just leave out the tongues this time.
France is a country of kissers. There is no doubt about that. We kiss to say hello. We kiss to say goodbye. We kiss when we receive a present. We kiss for the New Year, for Christmas, for birthdays, for any kind of celebration. We kiss and kiss and kiss. And then, we kiss again. I honestly don’t remember how many people and how many times I have kissed and have been kissed in my life. Impossible to count!
We kiss people we like. And we kiss people we don’t like. There are people we really don’t feel like kissing. Often we still kiss them. Remember the old aunty with fetid breath and a hairy pustule on her chin? Well, she too, had to be kissed. A child’s nightmare that later leads to a long-term trauma.
We kiss people we know. And we kiss people we don’t know. Let me offer an example. You walk by a café (the example is, of course, taken from the past, in a time before the lockdown, when cafés were still open and people were still allowed to sit and drink in their terraces). You spot a friend sitting on a table with, let’s say, six other friends. You stop and say hello to your friend. Here “saying hello” means that you kiss your friend. On the cheeks, to be precise. One kiss on the right cheek and one kiss on the left cheek. The order in which you do so might matter and also indicate whether you are from one region or another (although I have lived in France for most of my life, I only discovered this recently). One kiss left and one kiss right, or the other way round.
Is that it? If you’re an introvert, a little anti-social, impolite, in a rush and short of time, yes, the story will end here and you will carry on your way. However, if you’re an extravert, in need of social contacts or just wanting to be nice to your friend, the story is just beginning, as you’re going to kiss all the persons sitting at the table. Ready? One kiss left, one kiss right. Or the other way round, depending on the region. Again, one kiss left, one kiss right…. And on and on, until the last person.
Is that it, then? Well it all depends on how long you hang out with your friend and his friends. If you just stopped to say hello, exchange a few words with your friend and then take your leave, that will be enough. But imagine you have plenty of time, feel good vibes and decide to sit down at the table for a while, or, furthermore, order yourself a drink. When you finally do decide to leave, you’ll have to go for another round of kisses. To say goodbye this time. And here you go again. One left, one right…
I’ve opted here for a simple version of the situation. I’ve described a region where people kiss only twice. In the North, or so I’ve heard, there is an area where people only kiss once, though I’ve never actually come across it. But there certainly are regions where people kiss three times (Montpellier for instance) and even up to four times. Four times guys! This means that you have to kiss each person four times to greet them and another four times to say goodbye.
In the case of our workplaces — where we often also kiss each other — imagine the time we spend kissing in the morning. In a region where the norm prescribes four kisses and you have, say, a dozen or more colleagues, the ritual of kissing could take up a good half hour every day.
Of course, there are some hypocritical kisses, when one is thinking “kiss my arse” while offering you his or her cheek. I will also skip over the fact that we very often just kiss the air rather than really applying our wet lips on the person’s skin. To summarize, you turn your neck once on the left, make the sound of kissing with your lips and repeat the same on the other side (or more, according to where you live). We are so used to this that we often act like robots, kissing the wind.
But all this was before. Back in the days when France used to be a country of kissers.
Ever since the corona appeared on the scene, we no longer kiss.
Mind you, this did not happen overnight. Beginning in early or mid-February, some rumours were spreading that we should avoid kissing each other. A small minority of people adopted this policy straight away. One morning, as you were approaching them for the kissing ritual, they declared gravely: “No! Stay where you are! I no longer kiss!” Pretentious, arrogant, cold-blooded bastards. A few apologized for their behavior. “I’m sorry, but I’ve decided not to kiss any longer”. The bad-arse types did not even make that effort. There were some signs that they might even feel relieved. Maybe they had just waited for THE real excuse to turn up to finally put an end to this bloody ritual, which reminded them of their childhood trauma with the old aunty. A few tried to come up with solid reasons. “I have to be careful, you know my health is not very good”.
But as often happens, the first to something are rarely paid attention to, let alone understood. So we went on kissing. Kissing at work, in the street, at the grocery shops, in the cafés… By the end of February and beginning of March, however, the rumours had seriously increased in scope and the first official instructions started to come in. We began seeing A4-sheets at the entrance to government buildings, explaining social distancing and hand-washing. Not that we took these entirely seriously, but the non-kissers did start to become more numerous.
Nevertheless, France likes to think of itself as a country of rebels. At this point, the rebellious mentality took to the stage: “I don’t care, I still kiss!”. But at the same time, the pioneers of the non-kissing movement started to receive more consideration. Had they not expressed their firm stance right from the beginning? Determined minds! On the other hand, those who had joined the bandwagon at the halfway point, especially after the diffusion of national and local instructions, were seen as weak sheep.
France was divided into two bands. Because of our history of opposition, the rebels were tolerated. One kiss left, one kiss right. The non-kissers were also accepted, for hygienic reasons. And the opportunists adapted themselves to the situation, depending on the person in front of them. To kiss or not to kiss became the question.
But that didn’t last long. As the rumours turned into hard news and official declarations, the non-kissing movement shifted into high gear. By early March other A4-sheets started to flourish in the main entrances of government offices.
By that time the rebels had been moved into the category of the “unthinking citizens”. Their numbers plunged dramatically, approaching absolute zero within only a few days. The triumph of those who were “arrogant bastards” in mid-February had come.
And so here we are. We no longer kiss in France. Considering the fact that we are still under lockdown, the opportunities to kiss are anyway quite scarce. Our identity as a country of kissers is not yet completely challenged. But after that? The end of the lockdown will not mean the end of “social distancing”. Kissing at a one metre distance from each other is just not doable.
After the lockdown, we will continue not to kiss. At least for a while. Maybe for a long while. And eventually we will get used to not kissing any more. At some point the idea of kissing each other might even start to feel awkward. We might even never kiss again. The day may come, years from now, if we survive all the trouble we are facing and will face, when we might tell our grandchildren of a time when French people used to kiss each other. “Really, grandma, you had to kiss people three times each time you met them?”. “Yes, my child, once upon a time…”.
This might sound like the end of a cultural empire. But there are also positive aspects. More time saved, fewer lip infections, no more stinky breath up your nose early in the morning… As a friend once suggested, we might bring back doing the curtsey.
Much classier than kissing in the air!
When I think of our German neighbors, I can’t help but imagine they will love the disappearance of this French habit. Na, endlich, no need to undergo such a brutal, embarrassing ritual and act as if one enjoyed and was cool with it! This is Germany’s revenge! It comes a bit late for Angela. But her successor -if she or he ever turns up- might no longer have to kiss Emmanuel, Nicolas or whoever will be on the throne at that time.
The cover image is by Dan Meyers on Unsplash.
