Still on France time

I've just spent countless hours on a crowded airplane bent in the seat like a pretzel.

I arrived at the hotel where my hair dryer caused the European fuse to blow, damaging my dryer and leaving me with an air-dry-only option. Argh! This stuff tends to happen at the precise moment when the jet-lag peaks and the recently ingested airplane food starts a revolution in my stomach.  

None of this compares to the dizzying jolt I experienced when I set my sights on Perpignan, France for the first time.

I don't think I'll ever be able to shake the initial image from my mind. Cobblestone alleys meander to the edge of town where the ground quickly ascends to lush mountains that encompass the small city. I half expected Heidi and some yodelers to pop around the corner. Pastel-colored buildings line the narrow streets and little cafes extend out onto the walkways, tempting tourists to sit down and indulge in some European coffee – life's greatest treasure.

I became confused easily as I strolled around the city. How can you navigate through alleyways that connect to other alleyways and eventually lead to yet more alleyways? Perpignan is an intricate web. The streets of the city branch off and reconnect somewhere else along the way like a spider's web. It's almost too easy to get lost – but that's not always a bad thing.

Many of the city's locals have said that all routes lead to Perpignan. Ironically, the cultural heritages intertwine and flow as these alleyways do. On one corner you'll find yourself on the steps of a Catholic Church and on another, a Catalonian restaurant or a French patisserie. Even though there's an obvious distinction between cultures, all are connected by the routes.

The most intriguing marvel in France isn't actually tangible. I am fascinated with the French concept of time. Time seems to pass differently there. First, there's a strict 35-hour workweek, six-week vacation minimum and two-hour lunch break. Restaurants stay open from twilight to sunup or until the wine runs out – which is highly unlikely because wine is like air to the French community.

In one of the city's central markets, I sat and watched some social interaction among families. No one rushed to buy goods or wolfed down food to make it back to work on time. No one anxiously checked the time. Everyone appeared to be genuinely enjoying the lunch break, appreciative of the time to mingle with friends, relatives and acquaintances.

Are these people happier and more optimistic because of the emphasis on social interaction as the best time spent?  In the United States the competitive drive is so pervasive that I wonder if it harms our society and family life. I always feel like there is never enough time – it seems to vanish. As I observed these families, I was astonished at how dedicated they are to savoring every aspect of life.

Perhaps, the rest of Europe doesn't adhere to this and France flies solo when it comes to understanding the quality of life.

Perhaps, France is merely a wrinkle in time. It's definitely worth losing your hair dryer to find out.