With six kids and 12 grandchildren, you can imagine how hard it was to fit all those people in a little tiny apartment. My mom and I arrived a little late (I had to take a nap first), so when we walked in the door, all eye turned to check out the etrangers (foreigners) from America.

Before I left for Paris, I read a book about living life as a foreigner in Paris. One of the things that stuck in the back of my head was when the author talked about French gathering. She said it’s very helpful to learn how to be a chair when attending parties because no one wants to speak to the foreigners. They’d all rather talk amongst themselves. I also read that being accepted into a French family is harder than getting an audience with the Pope.

That wasn’t the case with Madam’s family. Before we had set two feet inside the door, we’re greeted with a flurry of kisses and hellos. I had told some members of Madam’s family that my mom didn’t speak French, so they were dusting off their English, doing their best to welcome her to the party.

We made our way through the maze of people to the table where a feast of simple French food awaited. Plates of cold poached salmon stuffed with scallops. Roasted chicken. Bowls of cooked beats, grated carrots with vinaigrette, chickpeas with onions, couscous dotted with currants. It was a feast for the eyes as well as the senses.

We sat down to eat and to take in our surroundings. Sometimes I’m embarrassed by how loud Americans can be when I see them around Paris. Well I have to say, the French family was even louder – multiple people participating in several conversations at once. They speak with their whole bodies, not just their words. They’re very loving, kind and completely at ease. Laughter fills the room while my mom and I soak it up.

Champagne and wine flowed like water. I had brought a gift of Panther Creek Pinot Noir to Madame when I first arrived, and she had been saving it until now. Conversation almost stopped when the family eyed a bottle of American wine – it was almost treated like a curiosity of sorts. The French are very proud and loyal to their wine, so I was blown away when several of them loved the pinot noir from the other side of the pond.

After three hours of laughter, great conversations and a few too many glasses of wine, my mom and I set off for her hotel. On the Metro, we both talk about how wonderful it was to see what it’s like to be in a French family. It was truly a memorable experience – one I won’t soon forget.

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