My discovery of America was a cultural shock, as I described in the previous chapters. Like a large number of foreigners and French people, I rejected American culture, always finding something to complain about. As soon as something didn’t fit with what I was used to in France and more particularly in Paris, where I spent a large part of my life, I became critical, very critical.
I have to admit that there were traits among Americans that have led me to behave like the stereotype portrayed by the clichés of Americans towards the French: the French look down on Americans. But over time, my perspective changed. Thanks to a very special friend and to some people close to me, I was forced to ask myself the question: why are Americans so different from the French, despite both being part of the West?