I really wanted to say something about gestures, about those little bits of integral communication that go above and beyond phrasal expression. Culturally-specific, non-linguistic communication. This is going to be a little tough, as I can't get my camera phone to take pictures remotely, and I have no idea how to post sound, but I'm going to try.
My good friend Helen told me this story, and I'm stealing it:
"Our hippie Australian colleague came into work the other day and said 'I had heard that Parisians were rude, but i wasn't prepared. I was in the supermarket today looking for baking soda to brush my teeth with, and the cashier just looked at me and did this awful thing. She leaned over and farted in my face! Farted in my Face!' "
Hippie Aussie was talking about a quintessentially French move. One necessary for all would-be fluent speakers (and gesticulators). Correctly done, it signifies "I have no idea", "them's the breaks", or "what you are saying does not interest me enough for actual comment". It should be performed by pursing your lips and shrugging your shoulders, whilst simultaneously expelling air out of your mouth.
This does make a "fart" noise, but I feel the sound and action is actually very self-explanatory. Try it, you will be that much more French.
Another of my favorites is the "I'm out of here" move. I like this one because it can replace saying "let's blow this pop stand", one of my favorite expressions, and can be used in situations in which you need to be subtle, or just have food in your mouth and can't enunciate properly. It's a two-hander. Extend all the fingers of your right hand out, thumb glued to the palm of your hand, like a plastic-molded doll, or sticking out at a 45 degree angle. Cup your left hand slightly and hold it out in front of you, not too far, and keep it relatively limp and loose. Your flat, plastic-molded hand should be brought up from below to briskly contact the crook where your thumb meets your palm, twice. A soft slapping sound is made when your forefinger hits your inner palm, as if to say "let's go" or "I'm out".
There are others. The finger tap to your temple that instead of saying "think about it", as it would in the US, says "you're/she's/he's/they're nuts". The succession of sucking tongue clicks that can be used on children, dogs, or peers to signify "don't do that". The series of expressions and micro-expressions that mainly seem to show disdain, but are recognized all over the country, and especially in Paris. I love these. I may not be able to pull off cigarette pants with striped shirts and a scarf (actually a thing), but I can definitely make a farting noise. It makes me feel like one of them. One of us.
Some are more universal. The eye-roll. The eyebrow raise. The "comme si comme ça" or "almost" frontal jazz hand. The "you're taking up too much of my valuable time with your nonsense" purse-and-pucker. These are examples that would seem relevant to most anglophones and francophones, but are actually just as culturally tagged as language itself. Unfortunately, this stuff is rarely taught in classrooms. (I think. I have never taken French as a foreign language, but I've certainly never designed an English class on the "rock on" hand-sign).
I've been told that in Japan shaking your head horizontally means "yes", which must lead to much hilarious misunderstanding in the board room. A student of mine told me recently that in middle-eastern countries a tongue-click and sharp, upward motion of your head from the jaw signifies "hello" and is not aggressive at all, and if in a market in Morocco someone answers your question about the price of mint tea by holding out his forefinger and thumb in a circle while he speaks to someone else, he isn't trying to ignore you or play a punching game, but is asking you to hold on a moment. It's like we're all living in physical code.
One time, on my way to teach a class, I was riding across northern Paris when a giant truck rolled past the pedestrian crossing and stopped, blocking my path on my green light. I tapped his window and he rolled it down. I pointed out that he was in my way, and when he wouldn't move I continued to insist, sweeping my arms with increasing grandeur to indicate the light and my bike. The light changed, and a honking line of cars gathered behind him, but our interaction was important. I was careful to vousvoie him while insulting his driving skills. Mostly, however, I was gesticulating wildly, sharply, implying he was a crazy idiot for continuing to inconvenience me. As he drove away, he called me a "conasse de bourgeoise parisienne". This is not a polite thing to say, "conasse" basically means "stupid bitch", but something about it invigorated me.
I reknotted the scarf around my neck and thought to myself, that's right, drive on, this is MY town.
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