Speaking the language

What should be a fiery menage a trois seems to have decayed into a loveless affair -- to the point that you can't even call this a love triangle anymore.

I'm talking of course, about the United States, France and Poland.

The deeds of Kosciuszko, Pulaski, Lafayette and Napoleon, joint ventures between France and Poland such as Marie Curie and Frederic Chopin, American valor at Normandy, Paris's Route du President Kennedy, McDonald's on the Champs-Elysees, and a host of French words permeating both American and Polish dictionaries all make one think that, no matter what our stance may be on Iraq, mutual respect and cordiality should forever mark Franco-American and -Polish relations.

But, as my spring break trip to Paris showed me, there is a puzzling inconsistency between the social attitudes of the French toward Americans and Poles, and vice versa.

To begin with, it should surprise no one that, as an American tourist in Paris, I was continually met with arrogance by Parisians. The ever-affable Monsieur Beauchamp from your French 120 textbook is a myth; in reality, rather than showering you with warm greetings and vocabulary you learned on page 119, M. Beauchamp is much more likely to either give you the silent treatment, a dirty look, a combination of the two or -- my personal favorite -- change direction so as to avoid you. And it's not because you're ugly or because you stink -- it's because you're American.

To test this hypothesis, my bilingual friends and I decided to conduct a little experiment: What would happen if, rather than speaking in English, we spoke Polish everywhere we went?

Vive la difference!

When ordering a croissant, even though my "Jay voo-draize one kroizante, sale-voos-plate" had not changed, the attendant at the bakery took much more interest in me -- she even asked, "what beautiful language are you speaking?" At the local pub, the bar attendant showered us with "Dziendobrys" upon hearing us talking loudly in Polish and made small-talk with us. At the local creperie, I was able to order my crepes in Polish and even get extra chocolate, and when we sold ourselves as a bunch of lost Poles, we were finally able to get decent directions from a pedestrian.

On the other hand, in America -- perhaps with the sole exception of Chicago -- our behavior would likely have earned us the label of "loud, stupid Pollacks." I've heard that one before, as have many of my Polish friends. Many Americans view Polish laborers, housekeepers, contractors and other poorly paid immigrant workers as inferiors, good for nothing except sputtering unpronounceable words and manual labor. But in America, I suppose, this is a rite of passage for every immigrant group.

Yet, for many Poles abroad in the United States and France, immigrant labor is the common denominator. I met a large number of Polish immigrant laborers in Paris (as in Dublin, London and Amsterdam) -- from store clerks to street vendors and cleaning ladies -- not unlike the ones I've met here in the U.S. Thus, since Poles are still actively trying to earn money, a decent living and respect in the U.S. and France, their disposition toward the French and Americans is much friendlier. And it's not just a matter of dollars, or "dolary"; sizeable Polish-American and Polish-French communities make arrogance toward Americans and French all the more difficult.

This is quite a complicated triangle: The French give more respect to Poles than Americans, Americans give more respect to French than Poles, and the Poles, well, they don't seem to care.

These disparities between the levels of respect are precisely what's souring Franco-American and -Polish relations. No matter how many times Bush and Chirac shake hands, unless these incongruent social attitudes can be somehow equalized, there will always remain a bitter underside to the glossy appearance of cordial relations between these three amis.

So, what we can do to change these attitudes?

Let's start with a stronger exchange rate for the dollar, since respect for dollars often transfers to respect for dollar-bearers, which would give Parisians at least some incentive to treat Americans more kindly. The rise of a Polish middle class in the United States will in due time help improve American attitudes toward Poles. In the end, though, there's no clear-cut way to restore the passion in this historic love triangle; it's a matter of time and, well, luck.

Bonne chance, then. In the meantime, though, if you're going to visit Paris, picking up some Polish might not be a bad idea.

Cezary Podkul is a junior management and philosophy major in Wharton and the College from Chicago, Ill. Cezary Salad appears on Mondays.

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