The Chronicles of A Small Scot's Life in France and How I Winged It, Episode I: La Bise

This has been a long time coming. Three years in the making, in fact. Three years ago now that love and the forces of the universe contrived to bring me back onto British soil, after an immensely educational, life-changing, crazy and incredible six years as a slightly shy and awkward Scottish girl winging her way through Life in France.

First things first; that title has given me a headache. Namely the word 'winged'. I desperately want to change it into 'wung', even though I know figuratively that no such word exists.

It's hard to know where to begin. There are so many things I could write about. So many experiences, both good and bad, that have shaped me into the person I am today. I am incredibly lucky, blessed and grateful to have spent perhaps arguably the most important and shaping years of my life abroad. I was thrown into the deep-end. At nineteen I left home for the very first time, and moved to France to complete what I thought would be simply my compulsory gap year at the mid-point of my MA in French. Little did I know; life had other things in store for me.

But all that for another time.

Perhaps today I shall begin with one of the first harrowing experiences of my stay in le nord. This experience shall henceforth be named, 'la bise.''

'La bise' is the French term for a kiss. It's a type of kiss that the French (or rich, uppity characters in romantic comedies) use to greet one another. I am glad that a French culture class at Glasgow University had vaguely prepared me for it, but I wish there had been a sort of practical learning class, where we actually got to practice doing it and how to receive it . Perhaps this would have prevented us from finding ourselves in the uncomfortable position of accidentally landing on the lips. It happens, a lot. And there is quite often beard or upper-lip hair involved.

I remember the first time it happened. I hadn't been expecting it. I wasn't prepared. It was the headteacher of one of the primary schools I worked in as a language assistant. He had a beard; a very bushy one. It all happened so fast. We said hello, he leaned in, touching me lightly on the shoulder (a very common gesture that I suppose aids one with balance, because you don't want to trip and accidentally fall into their face). I very quickly reacted by slightly turning my head in shock. Result; a kiss on the corner of my mouth. Lots of grizzly beard-hair and coffee-breath. My very red face.

If 'la bise' doesn't sound dramatic enough already, there's the added confusion of having to know how many times to kiss the other person. Some people kiss once. I like these ones the best. A lot of people kiss twice; once on each cheek. Then there are some people who kiss four times. I always felt that whenever anyone did this they were simply taking the p*ss, because I was an unassuming foreign girl slightly appalled by the whole affair. However I now know that not to be the case, because there are some regions of France where people really do kiss four times. Imagine going round everyone in a room and kissing them four times. It takes a while. I think that's why house parties and social gatherings go on for so long in France. You've got to allow extra kissing-time.

I was, and am, never quite sure exactly how to kiss. Some people don't seem to actually kiss at all. They kind of sweep their cheek lightly across the other person's cheek, or just make a kind of kissing sound and duck-face, without actually kissing at all. I've tried different types and my go-to now is simply a bonafide, squelchy-sounding, lip-to-cheek actual kiss because I think if you're going to kiss someone then you might as well do it properly.

In the past I have worried about things like, what if the other person gets some of my foundation on their lips? What if that person has just been licked on the mouth by a dog? What if they're thinking, Wow, I can see that spot and I just kissed it (yuck, I know!) What if I cause that person eternal back problems because they have to bend down so low to give me the bise?

It's funny how for the French, a hug seems extremely intimate and personal, but a kiss seems just like a routine greeting that you should do with anyone, even your toothless great-uncle who eats fish at every meal. I've witnessed French people watch me hug another anglophone, and the expression across their eyes reads: 'She's actually a lesbian at heart. Their bodies are actually touching.' Or if it's a guy: 'They must be interested in each other.'

If French people kiss each other, we shouldn't read too much into their mouths touching each other's cheeks or mouth-corners, or think about the fact that they're seconds away from the possibility of actual French-kissing.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on the matter. Happy bank holiday Monday and I'll be back soon with my next episode.