This article was downloaded by: [Duke University Medical Center]On: 09 October 2014, At: 21:39Publisher: RoutledgeInforma Ltd Registered in England and Wales Registered Number: 1072954Registered office: Mortimer House, 37-41 Mortimer Street, London W1T 3JH,UK

Sites: The Journal ofTwentieth-Century/Contemporary French Studiesrevue d'études françaisPublication details, including instructions forauthors and subscription information:http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/gsit19

Le Voyage en FranceBenoiît DuteurtrePublished online: 29 Oct 2010.

To cite this article: Benoiît Duteurtre (2002) Le Voyage en France, Sites: The Journalof Twentieth-Century/Contemporary French Studies revue d'études français, 6:2,442-448

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Le Voyage en France1

Beno i t D u t e u r t r e

Ou il est Question de Cuisine Rapide

Les immeubles devenaient plus grands, les avenues plus larges.En un instant, les trottoirs se recouvrirent d’une multitude depassants. Tenant des sacs en plastique, les corps s’agitaient d’unmagasin a l’autre: des blonds, des bruns, des Blancs, des Noirs,des metis, des Maghrebins, des Asiatiques [. . .] David songeaavec emotion au cosmopolitisme des grands ports. Mais outreque ces marins ne portaient ni chemises rayees ni bonnets a pom-pons, ils parlaient tous francais et se deplacaient en famille,comme de simples habitants occupes a faire leurs emplettes.Revisant son histoire, le touriste se demanda si cette populationdiverse ne constituait pas plutot une suite de colonialisme. Avecsatisfaction, il observa que les communautes semblaient vivre enbonne harmonie.

Tirant toujours sa valise, il commenca a deambuler dans lafoule, curieux de decouvrir la societe francaise: son art de vivre,de se nourrir, de s’habiller, de se cultiver. Il nota que beaucoupde passants s’engouffraient dans un supermarche. Rap. Vingtmetres plus loin, des familles se ruaient sur les chaussures desport Like, avant de se rafraıchir chez le glacier Ice and Fast.Ces marques familieres des trottoirs new-yorkais semblaientexercer une irresistible attraction sur les consommateurs qui sub-issaient, dans les magasins, une sorte de nettoyage et ressortaient

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deguises en adolescents de Brooklyn: casquettes de baseball al’envers, pantalons de joggeurs, chaussures de tennis denouees,bombers qui leur donnaient des carrures de culturistes.

David reflechit un instant: on aurait dit que ces vetementsn’etaient pas seulement des vetements. Sur une tete francaise, lacasquette de baseball semblait vouloir signifier quelque chose –exactement comme le chapeau de David exprimait sa preferencepour le monde d’avant-guerre. Ici, les Normands ou lesMaghrebins s’inspiraient de l’Amerique des telefilms. C’etaitl’Europe.

Comme son regard traınait encore a la ronde, il remarquaun groupe rassemble sur le trottoir. Des voix s’elevaient,amplifiees en plein air par une sono. David s’approcha. Lesbadauds s’agglutinaient devant une estrade entre deuxboutiques de restauration rapide. Le batiment de gauche, orned’un drapeau yankee, portait l’enseigne Mackburger. La bou-tique de droite, ornee d’un drapeau francais, portait l’enseigneGrignotin.

Assis derriere une table au milieu de l’estrade, deux hommesparlaient dans des micros, sous le logo de la radio FCN: FunCulture Normandie. Separant les protagonistes, une animatricebrune a cheveux courts arbitrait le debat. David percut d’abordquelques bribes de phrases. L’homme de gauche criait:«Vos propos sont integristes!» Celui de droite retorquait:«Vous etes l’ennemi du cochon francais!» Le premier reprenait:«Votre conception de la restauration rapide est reactionnaire, ellerefuse la concurrence et le juste prix!» L’autre le coupait: «Maisnon, c’est vous qui voulez eradiquer la concurrence en controlantle marche!»

L’animatrice arbora un large sourire pour resumer:– Apres une pause publicitaire, nous reprendrons ce debat

entre Anthony Dubuc, gerant du magasin Mackburger-Marechal Foch, et Charly Robert, gerant du Grignotin-Palaisde Justice. Un debat consacre, je le rappelle, a: «Quel avenirpour la fast-cuisine francaise?» N’hesitez pas a poser toutes vosquestions en direct par telephone . . .

Un morceau de musique rythmee repeta une centaine de fois«Love me, love you», puis l’emission reprit sur un ton apaise.A gauche, Anthony Dubuc, costume cravate, expliquait queMackburger assurait des milliers d’emplois en France et partici-pait, avec ses sous-traitants, a la lutte contre le chomage.Charly Robert, en pul a col roule, repliquait qu’avec sonfast-food a base de baguette et de porc francais, il participait – a

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la defense de la tradition agroalimentaire nationale. Il s’emballadans une serie d’invectives contre l’Amerique «menacante pournotre exception culinaire – que la France devrait proteger par unappareil juridique»! Le ton monta de plus belle:

– Vous niez le marche! Vous etes un negationniste!– Vous combattez le droit a la difference!Le public silencieux suivait attentivement les arguments.

Affuble d’une casquette des Chicago Bulls, un adolescent arabesoufflait a son voisin:

– C’est vrai, les Americains ils se prennent pour les maıtres!S’immiscant dans leur conversation, David demanda timide-

ment:– Vous etes pour Grignotin ou pour Mackburger?Le garcon reflechit un instant, puis son regard s’accrocha au

chapeau du jeune homme. Le toisant de haut en bas, il prononca:– T’es bizarre, toi!Comprenant que son accoutrement paraıssait ridicule, David

tenta de se justifier:– En fait, j’arrive de New York, pour visiter la France . . .Aussitot, il s’interrompit, realisant qu’il venait de se denon-

cer, en plein debat public sur l’imperialisme americain. Maisdeja, l’autre tapait sur l’epaule de son camarade en criant:

– He! Kamel, regarde ce zouave, il vient d’Amerique!David bafouilla:– En fait, je suis a moitie francais.Kamel le devisageait de ses yeux brillants:

– L’Amerique! Le Bronx, Los Angeles, Planet Hollywood,Sharon Stone, Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone . . .

Il semblait prononcer des mots magiques, tandis que Davidcherchait a se justifier:

– Personnellement, je desapprouve l’Amerique. C’est unpays violent, sans charme, et j’ai toujours reve de vivre enFrance.

– Vivre en France, laisse beton! soupira Kamel.Son copain semblait plus sensible aux arguments de David:– Il a raison, l’Amerique, elle veut tout dominer!Kamel l’interrompit:– Ouais, mais qui a libere la France? Hein? Qui fait la meil-

leure musique? Le meilleur cinema? Les plus belles bagnoles?Les plus belles fringues?

Sur scene, Anthony Dubuc defendait le «metissage culi-naire» et Charly Robert la «fierte du sandwich francais». Davidprit un air grave devant ses premiers interlocuteurs:

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– En fait, je voudrais vous demander un service. J’ai quelquechose d’important a regler . . . Euh . . . Connaissez-vous l’endroitou habitait Claude Monet . . . ?

Kamel l’interompit:– Claude Monet, bien sur que je connais. Ligne de bus

numero trois. C’est presque au bout, ca s’appelle «ClaudeMonet». Tu descends la, tu peux pas te tromper.

David n’en revenait pas. Sous l’apparence fruste de teenagersaffubles de casquettes americaines se cachaient deux experts, cap-ables de lui indiquer l’emplacement ou Claude Monet avait peintses fameux tableaux. C’etait cela aussi, la France. Enthousiaste, ilremercia les jeunes gens. Puis, sous leurs regards intrigues, il tirasa valise derriere lui et s’eloigna du debat ou Anthony Dubucs’echauffait, tandis que Charly Robert lui coupait le sifflet:

– Fasciste!– Ultracapitaliste!– Antifeministe!– Genocidiste . . .

The Trip to France – Excerpt

In Which the Subject Is Fast Food

The buildings were getting larger, the streets wider. Suddenly thesidewalks were full of a multitude of pedestrians. With plasticbags in hand, bodies bustled from one store to the next: blondes,brunettes, whites, blacks, mixed, North Africans, Asians . . .Davidthought excitedly about the cosmopolitanism of large port towns.But aside from the fact that these sailors were wearing neitherstriped shirts nor hats with pompoms, all of them spoke Frenchand were with their families, merely town-dwellers busy shop-ping. The tourist modified his story and asked himself if thisdiverse population wasn’t perhaps more a result of colonialism.He observed with satisfaction that the communities seemed tobe living in harmony.

Pulling his suitcase behind him, he started walking throughthe crowd, curious to discover French society: the way it lived,ate, dressed, and stayed informed. He noticed that a lot of thepedestrians were disappearing into a supermarket named Rap.Twenty meters away, families were making a bee-line for Likeathletic footwear before stopping for an ice cream at Ice andFast. These familiar labels of the New York scene seemed to

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exercise an irresistible attraction on the shoppers, who seemedto undergo a kind of purging in the stores and emerged look-ing like Brooklyn teenagers: baseball caps on backwards, sweatpants, unlaced athletic shoes, and bomber jackets that madethem look like bodybuilders.

David thought for a moment: it seemed that these clotheswere more than just clothes. The baseball cap on a French headseemed to mean something – in exactly the same way that David’shat signaled his preference for the pre-World War II world.Here, the Normans or the North Africans were inspired by theAmerica of television programs. It was Europe.

While his gaze continued to take in what was around him,he noticed a group of people clustered on the sidewalk. Hecould hear raised voices, amplified by an outside sound system.David drew closer. The onlookers gathered in front of aplatform set up between two fast-food places. The building onthe left, draped with the Yankee flag, was called Mackburger.The place on the right, sporting the French flag, was calledGrignotin.

Behind the table on the middle of the platform, two menwere speaking into microphones with the logo Radio FCN:Fun Culture Normandie. A brown-skinned female journalistwith short hair mediated the debate. David first overheard frag-ments of sentences. The man on the left was shouting: ‘‘Yourideas are fundamentalist!’’ The man on the right shot back:‘‘You’re an enemy of the French pig!’’ The first man answered:‘‘Your concept of fast food is reactionary; it rejects competitionand fair prices!’’ The other cut him off: ‘‘No, you’re the onewho wants to eliminate competition and control the market!’’

The mediator assumed a big smile and resumed:– After this station break, we’ll return to this debate between

Anthony Dubuc, manager of Mackburger-Marechal Foch, andCharly Robert, manager of the Grignotin-Palais de Justice, adebate, I remind you, on the subject: ‘‘What is the future ofFrench fast food?’’ Please feel free to ask questions by callingdirect . . .

A snatch of music with a beat repeated a hundred times‘‘Love me, love you,’’ and the program resumed on a calmernote. On the left, Anthony Dubuc, in a suit and tie, was explain-ing that Mackburger ensured thousands of jobs in France andwith its contract employees helped combat unemployment.Charly Robert, wearing a turtleneck sweater, retorted that hewas defending the national agroalimentary tradition with his

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fast food, made with baguettes and French pork. He was carriedaway in a string of invectives against America – ‘‘a threat to ourexception culinaire, which France ought to protect legally!’’ Thedebate grew more heated:

– You reject market forces! You’re a revisionist!– And you’re against diversity!The silent onlookers followed their arguments attentively.

An Arab teenager wearing a Chicago Bulls baseball cap whisperedto his friend:

– It’s true, Americans think they’re the masters!Breaking into their conversation, David timidly asked:– Are you for Grignotin or Mackburger?The teenager thought for a moment when his gaze caught

the young man’s hat. Eyeing him from top to bottom, hesaid:

– You’re bizarre!Realizing that his dress seemed ridiculous, David tried to

defend himself:– Well, I’ve just come from New York to visit France . . .He stopped himself again, realizing that he had just exposed

himself right in the middle of a public debate on Americanimperialism. But it was too late; the teenager tapped his pal onthe shoulder and shouted:

– Hey! Kamel, look at this clown! He’s from America!David stammered:– I’m half French, though.Kamel stared at him with a gleam in his eyes:– America! The Bronx, Los Angeles, Planet Hollywood,

Sharon Stone, Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone . . .As he pronounced these seemingly magic words, David tried

to defend himself:– Personally, I disapprove of America. It’s violent and has no

charm. I’ve always dreamed of living in France.– Long live France, forget it! sighed Kamel.His pal seemed more responsive to David’s remarks:– He’s right. America wants to dominate everything!Kamel interrupted him:– Yeah, but who liberated France? Huh? Who has the best

music? The best movies? The best cars? The best clothes?Up on the stage, Anthony Dubuc continued to defend

‘‘culinary metissage’’ and Charly Robert the ‘‘pride of theFrench sandwich.’’ David asked his first interviewers in a serioustone of voice:

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– Actually, I’d like to ask you a favor. I have somethingimportant I need to take care of . . .Uh . . .Do you know whereClaude Monet used to live . . . ?

Kamel interrupted him:– Claude Monet, sure. Bus number 3. It’s almost at the end,

the sign reads, ‘‘Claude Monet.’’ That’s where you get off, youcan’t miss it.

David couldn’t believe it. Disguised in the coarse get-up ofteenagers in American baseball hats were two experts whocould tell him where Claude Monet had painted his famous pic-tures. That, too, was France. He thanked the two teenagersenthusiastically. As they stared at him in fascination, he startedto walk away from the debate, pulling his suitcase behind him.Anthony Dubuc was getting more and more worked up whileCharly Robert kept cutting him short:

– Fascist!– Capitalist pig!– Antifeminist!– Genocide supporter . . .

Translated by Margaret Colvin

Notes

1 Benoıt Duteurtre (Paris: Gallimard, 2001) 52–58.

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