Op Là and the Metro Crew ( Or, How I Learned to Stop Trying and Fail with Aplomb)

The title of this post is part onomatopoeia, part foreshadowing, part overly-self-satisfied reference to Dr. Strangelove. So you know this is going great places.

Let's start with the Metro. Oh lovely metro. Because I am a yearlong student, my yearlong metro pass is taking a year to get here. In the meantime, I had misinformed myself into believing that I could buy a weekly pass (Passe Navigo) easily. It cost 19€. So I only took a 20 euro bill with me to the Metro this morning. Unfortunately, once I got there I was quickly informed by the man working behind the counter that I could not, in fact, buy a Passe Navigo without going through some sort of bureaucratic process. Fair enough, I thought to myself, going over to the ticket dispenser to get myself a metro ticket. Unfortunately the dispensers only take coins. I only had bills. It doesn't take a genius to see that there existed a discongruity here. I was going to have to take action to get change. I didn't want to go back to the counter to ask for change, because he would think I was stupid and I can't have that! This is my metro stop for the year and he will obviously remember my face and judge me every time I use the metro.
In my mind, it was much simpler to ascend the steps to street level and enter the nearest patisserie. Instead of just asking for change, I decided to buy something because it's easier to do something the stupid way. I think. Might have to check up on that one. As serendipity (who is a bitch and not someone you should associate with) would have it, the cheapest item was an almond bread pudding. Which was propitious because it was a huge slab of bread pudding for 1,80€ AND I'm allergic to almonds. Weighing my options, I decided to buy it. Not only that, but as I was buying it, as if to convince myself of the lie of intent that I was committing, I lavished the baker with such voluminous praise as "This bread pudding looks amazing. I love bread pudding. I am so excited to eat this because it looks so delicious and it smells so good. Merci Au Revoir". Naturally I had no intention of eating it. So I threw it out. At the garbage can in front of the patisserie which, as it happens, is stationed in front of the giant glass window. As the baker watched. Confused. Then angry. Whoops. It's a good thing this is the bakery across the street from my house. The one that I have to pass every day to get to the metro stop. At least the guy at the ticket counter in the metro won't think I'm stupid, right?

Another thing about the metro before we move on: People will tell you that all the French are broodingly impassive on the metro. Actually they won't. They'll say things like "Don't smile on the metro because no one smiles and everyone looks angry". This seems to imply some sort of unique stoic facial expression that serves as a French person's metro-face. Guys, this isn't true at all. Here is a sampling of facial contortions I have observed in my short time on the metro:

1. I look like I'm bored. I'm really really bored and I'm looking at the window. I'm pretending like I'm looking out the window but I'm not. I'm checking myself out. No I'm not fixing my hair. I have an itch. I'm bored. I'm pretty and French and bo-"MERDE JAI RATE MON ARRET!"

2. I look like I just woke up on the street. I know I look like that. I'm probably on drugs. See how my eyes shift? They're really shifty. I'm really shifty. I will glare at you if you approach me and don't even try to look at what is in my bag because I will close it really quickly and look like a drug addict at you.

3. I look like I was just vociferously making out with my boyfriend and then he sneezed on my face. I do not look happy.

Let's finish with the question you probably wanted to know the answer to at the beginning of this post: What is an Op Là? To answer that my friends, we must make a brief foray into the communication style of the French. The French have this particular way of communicating that is just as particular as the hand-waving pantomimery so closely associated with the Italians. Yet they get no credit for it; the collective unconscious of cultural stereotypes holds no murky pool of French sound effects. But there are so many! I wish I were a better stenographer, that I might accurately transcribe the small noises that punctuate their story-telling and generally seem to help the French get through their French day.
My host-father, bless his socially awkward heart, has a particular way of doing things that involves repeated invocations of the Op Là. Putting down a plate? Op Là. Picking up a fork? Op Là. Trying to prepare dinner in the tiny kitchen while the American student living in your middle son's room desperately tries to make conversation with you because it's been five hours since he's talked to anyone and he's taken this moment to come into the have-we-mentioned-how-tiny-it-is kitchen and now you're trying to move a plate while listening to him ramble on about going to the Eiffel Tower oh that's fucking original? Op Là, Op Là, Op Là.
Yes, I decided to try to be social yesterday. I walked into the middle of the kitchen, which is also the beginning and end of the kitchen except when the oven is open in which case there's only a beginning and middle and if you want to open the fridge too well then there's just no kitchen. So I stood there, awkwardly flailing about trying not to be a nuisance while being hyper-conscious of just what a nuisance I was being. The dialog went something like this:
"What did you do today?"
"I just had a meeting at the Fac. Op Là (plate almost goes flying). No, no you're fine. Op Là. No really, you don't need to go back to your room. Op Là. Haha, there almost went our dinner, what would we have done then. Yes, the meeting was fine. Op Là. No, there's really not much to say about it. It was just like an info session. Op Là. No, that's fine, just leave the ham on the ground. I'll get it."
Dinner was a blessedly seated affair in which I repeatedly apologized for being a nuisance and tried to find a socially appropriate way to ask "when is it okay to talk to you? Because I get bored. And lonely. Also I like to speak French."
Answer forthcoming.