An e-mail from my little sister (currently almost 21 years old and studying in Nancy, France, where she's also student-teaching), excerpted:
...I know, incredibly short for me, so I'll add some length by leaving you all with this. No matter what your politic or that of the French, I want to tell you that I like the French. I like their force, their morealy surity that is so similar to our own. I like their certainty that they are correct, that their vision of the world is the proper one. (optimism and self-belief are always important) I like their bread and their cheese. I like that in so many ways they are just like us, only different. I also dislike the French. I dislike the fact that sometimes they do stink... that they dislike my country, that they eat a lot of stinky food. I dislike that the boys wear their pants much tighter than what I am used to looking at or like looking at. I dislike that they aren't half as cute as American boys. I dislike that they can't see how well we could get along. (although I could say the same for us) But it has become a sort of home. So eat your french fries and french kiss. The French don't know what either of those things are anyhow, and they think it's funny that their name is attached. Don't worry about changing the word to Freedom. They don't care.
Isn't she a marvellous writer? Michelly, I love you.