One thing about the French is that they are very social. Contrary to the rumor I heard prior to arriving about the nonamicable ways of the French, weekend nights are flooded with fun and activity. It may just be that I was luckily paired with an extremely social family because I find my host parents spending their weekends going out to dinner and socializing with friends, but I can’t imagine that they are the only ones. 

If you walk around Toulouse on a Friday or Saturday night, by eight o’clock, the streets are already filled with people. The most popular places to go are the restaurants, night clubs and outside brasseries (breweries)—cafés by day; bars by night. The transformation is rather amazing and hilarious to observe. The same place where you can sit peacefully with a cup of coffee reading the paper during the day transforms into an overcrowded social scene. French chatter and music from the closest nightclub fill your ears.

Now in America, when one pictures the average bar scene (at least in my world of Lansdale), it consists of adults watching a game or catching up with friends; however, in France, teenagers are the ones crowding the bars, taking advantage of the fact that they don’t have school the next day. Within five minutes of my school, you can find several popular night clubs such as La Couleur de la Culotte and Chez Tonton.  Coming from a country where you have to be 21 to drink and 18 to smoke, it is bizarre seeing my classmates throw back a tequila puff (a popular shot) and then light up a cigarette. 

In France, you should be 8 before your parents offer you wine with dinner. You have to be 16 to publicly drink beer and wine, 18 to drink hard liquor. Bartenders and shop owners typically never ask for ID. Drinking is part of the culture. No one seems too concerned about teenage drinking as long as it stays under control. Getting drunk is frowned upon, and drinking and driving is strictly forbidden. Most people walk in groups or take taxis home after a night out. Public transportation is not recommended unless you are traveling with a very large group. 

By the way, the driving age is 18 in France, so even though I got my driver’s license in the U.S. before I left, I cannot drive now. But I can legally have a beer.

The best way to spend a Saturday night, though, is not the downtown scene, but when someone throws a party. All your friends get together, and there is a lot of fun to be had. Of course, parties here are different than in America. Here the offerings are Spanish whiskey, cigarettes, and bowls of cherry tomatoes, olives, cheese and bread. In the U.S., it is soda, potato chips, and pretzels. 

At North Penn, if drinking occurs at a party, the teens and their parents can get in a lot of trouble. In France, no one is going to get arrested, and it certainly won’t make the local newspaper.

Parties in France usually have a lot of flirting, (I have no idea where the boys get all their confidence from.) and they always end up with dancing. Teens listen to American music, and they also like techno music. Parties will go until about 1 or 2 in the morning, and either you get a taxi home, a parent picks you up, or you sleepover where you are. 

It is shocking the number of people who smoke in France. You can pretty much find a pack of cigarettes on any teenager.  I would say 90 percent of the people I have met DO smoke, but I don’t, and even though cigarettes have been offered to me many times, I have said no. That is not a habit I hope to come home with.

Since Saturday nights end so late, it usually results in sleeping in late on Sunday. It seems like the whole city is on the same schedule, as the streets are quiet until about noon. On Sundays, my host family and I usually picnic in the park. On the way, we buy some fresh bread from the boulangerie, some kind of meat like pâté from the charcuterie, and surely some pastries from the patisseriel. It is so relaxing and peaceful. People will bring magazines or soccer balls and just soak in the beauty of nature. The parks are beautiful. It really is an excellent ending to a weekend.

My family and I picnicked in the park this past Sunday, and it was simply picturesque. My host parents were ar-in-arm relaxing and talking to friends we met there, while the kids (including me) played racquetball and walked around. The weather was gorgeous, and I don’t know a better way to spend my Sunday.

I love our weekly tradition, and living in the city, being so close to all the activity, is the best.

Carly Loper is a North Penn student spending her junior year in France.