Even in 2012, many restaurants in France still close for the midday break or -- like long-standing Chez Fernand in Samois-sur-Seine -- are only open Wednesday through Sunday.

When you move abroad from the United States—and even when you move to an equally developed country—the adjustments you need to make in daily life are huge. That’s not to say that they’re BAD; they’re not. They’re just different. You might not find the same cough drop brands at the local pharmacist; out in the villages, you’re not likely to find a walk-ins-are-welcome manicure salon. But obviously, you’ve decided small changes like these are worth making in order to live the life you have now.

As I go about my daily routine, I’m finding that many of the experiences I have here in the lovely village of Samois-sur-Seine, in the surrounding towns, and 40 minutes away in Paris are nearly identical to ones I faced in Florence, Italy, when I lived there back in 2004 and 2005. Thank goodness this time around, I feel much more prepared to tackle the inevitable challenges that crop up on a daily basis. As anyone living abroad can attest, it’s during your first experience that you learn to juggle the truly unfamiliar until it becomes comfortable.

Both France and Italy are enormously popular with visitors around the world, in no small part thanks to the often slower, more tranquil—and dare I say “human”—quality of life you’ll find in both countries. Living in both countries has helped me realize that it’s neither necessary—nor at all healthy—to live a frantic, running-in-circles existence. That it really is possible to savor a meal without simultaneously reading, paying bills and taking notes for the next interview. And that it’s as important to accept a neighbor’s impromptu invitation to drop by for dinner or drinks as it is to crank out the next deadline assignment.

But tranquility comes at a price—especially for those of us used to 24-hour supermarkets, the-customer-is-always-right service, and same-day everything. When you’re an urban girl living in downtown Chicago, somewhere in Manhattan or perhaps in über-modern Montreal condos, the world is on-call, waiting to meet your every need. In cities and towns throughout France and Italy, not so much—but that’s OK. Here are several ways that my first expatriate stint readied me for the second time around in France: 

• Making the most of that midday break. It’s often tough for Americans to get used to the concept of stores, restaurants, and businesses shutting down in the middle of the day—or not being open at ALL on Sundays, which often is the only day many of us have to run errands. But you know, I kinda like this close-mid-afternoon-and-on-Sunday thing. For one, it helps you remember that the people working at the dry cleaners, serving your food at a brasserie or bistro, and baking your bread at the nearby boulangerie are real people with real lives. They like to eat lunch, just like you do. And on Sundays, they’d rather be spending time with their families than dealing with you and your fellow customers. That’s civilizing—and fair.

Don't DARE be in a hurry when going to La Poste or other businesses in France (or Italy). Life happens when it does ... and you learn to get used to it!

• Patience, please. As long as you remember that EVERYTHING takes longer to do than you think, you save yourself much frustration and stress. That quick trip to the post office? Not likely. Either the person ahead of you is handling some complicated transaction—or more likely in MY case—I’m lost halfway through mine because my French comprehension isn’t quite there. (This is why before I leave home, I consult my trusty French dictionary and/or grammar books for key terms that I’ll need to use at La Poste, at the mobile phone store, or at the shoe repair shop. Unfortunately, these aren’t the words you generally learn in once-a-week French classes back in the States.) You’re better off doubling the amount of time you expect an errand will take—and while you wait, pull out that French grammar book and take advantage of the free time.
• Better plan ahead. Let’s face it, folks—the United States is a procrastinator’s dream. So you forgot to take that dress for tonight’s cocktail party to the dry cleaners’ last week? No worries—drop it off before 9 a.m.; get it back by 4. Need new heels put on those fierce stilettos? Sure thing—you’ll get them back in 10 minutes AND while you wait. Going to a networking event but forgot to take enough business cards? Just e-mail the file to a print shop and they’ll have them printed up the same day. Life does NOT work like that here. If you get lucky, you might get your goods back by the end of the week IF you show up Monday morning. But it’s hardly the end of the world. If nothing else, it just forces you to get organized and take care of business Monday through Saturday if you really need something done.
• Be engaged—and be seductive. That doesn’t mean you go around throwing yourself at the postman or the guy at the butcher shop. But even in 2012 in both Italy and France, customers still actively engage with the people serving them. I’ve always found that a genuine smile goes a long way—especially when you don’t yet speak the language well. In Florence, if I walked past the corner café, phone shop or the cleaners, I’d wave and briefly chat or exchange pleasantries (in broken Italian, mind you), because it’s simply uncivilized not to do it. And once I’m out and about more in France and get to know business owners, I’ll do the same. What a nice habit to develop, especially when you live and work alone as I do. It’s all about making a human connection. No one’s explained this better than Elaine Sciolino, the Paris correspondent and long-time Paris bureau chief of The New York Times, in her provocative book La Seduction: How the French Play the Game of Life, believing that seduction is “the ever-present subtext for how the French relate to one another.” As she writes in a chapter called “Make Friends with Your Butcher,” “… there should be pleasure in the process of getting something done, whether it is being served a steak frites or buying a cell phone.” Indeed.

Ahhh ... the pleasant Vicolo del Canneto, a narrow street where I lived when in Florence. It's here that this Type A Capricorn finally learned to appreciate slowing down (well, at least in theory!).

• Learning the language. In my younger days, I was a much quicker study when it came to figuring out foreign languages like Spanish, which I studied in elementary and high school and at university. I took several language courses before moving to Italy, but none of it seemed very helpful once I landed on the ground in Florence (a city where you can easily speak English much of the time because of ever-present tourists). Still, I struggled through it. Found kind-hearted Italians who’d let me practice with them. And s-l-o-w-l-y, eventually, the impasse broke and it all started to make sense. It still does—so much so that I’d feel comfortable traveling solo through Italian regions where I’d be unlikely to run into English speakers. With much more study and actual TALKING, I know I’ll someday get a grasp of le français and will no longer have to plan out conversations minutes before speaking. Still, you should have seen my glee when discovering yesterday that the shoe repair man at a nearby cordonnerie was actually Italian! We instantly switched from French to italiano, allowing me to comfortably chat and build instant camaraderie with this friendly signore.  

If these Italian-French experiences can remind me to slow down, savor life and not just speed through on auto-pilot—regardless of where I decide to call home—they’re lessons worth learning.

I can't rave enough about this gorgeous film (or its gorgeous co-star Alexander Siddig, my new foreign-man crush). Ladies, this film is a MUST-SEE!

Imagine hanging out in Cairo with THIS beautiful man (Sudanese-born actor Alexander Siddig, who plays Tareq) at your side. I'd never want to go home!

After spending almost NO time at the cinema this summer, I’m on another film kick. Forget “Eat Pray Love”  as the so-called thoughtful “chick flick” of the season. For me, the UrbanTravelGirl must-see movie is “Cairo Time,” an absolutely breathtaking film that places the ancient-yet-modern and chaotic Egyptian city of Cairo in a starring role.

I recently raved about “Cairo Time” in “TCW Travel Connection,” the blog I write for the monthly Today’s Chicago Woman magazine. (I hope you’ll check it out!) But beyond making me think long and hard about the movie’s central premise—that “sometimes you need to forget the rules and follow your heart”—and inspiring me to see it twice, this travelogue of a film has me SERIOUSLY thinking about booking a trip to Cairo.

As I’ve said before, even I think it’s a shame that I’ve traveled countless times to Europe but have yet to set foot on the African continent. And while South Africa and Senegal also are on my visit-Africa “wish list,” Egypt’s always been at the top.

I’ve already started checking out flights between Chicago and Cairo, trying to figure out which of American Airlines’ partner airlines fly there so I can trade in some hard-won frequent-flyer miles. I haven’t yet checked out places to stay, but when on the road in foreign countries, I try to avoid large American-branded hotels. Perhaps a small locally owned boutique place, a seaside resort, or even a last-minute all-inclusive might work. But the point is to GET THERE!! My mom has always talked of wanting to visit Egypt, but has frequently deferred the dream because of fears of terrorism. I’m hoping to talk her into going, as we’re far safer on the streets of Cairo than on the South Side of Chicago!

So here’s the deal: you guys know I love traveling alone. But tell me—if you’ve been to Egypt (or even LIVED there!), is it a bad idea for a single woman to go strolling the streets of Cairo by herself, or does the city just get bad PR for that? (If you watch “Cairo Time,” you’ll see leading lady Patricia Clarkson frequently harassed—but she’s blonde and doesn’t cover her hair. At least I’d blend in much better with my Egyptian brothers and sisters!) Is it a place you’d wholeheartedly recommend?

Let me know what you think!

(This post is supported by Luxury Villas Maui.)

Chicago-area Francophiles — don’t miss Kiratiana’s Bastille Day and book launch event Wednesday, July 14.

UrbanTravelGirl readers will remember my recent shout-out to fellow Chicagoan and new author Kiratiana Freelon, whose FAB Kiratiana’s Travel Guide to Black Paris: Get Lost and Get Found recently made its debut.

Those of you in Chicago who like me love all things French should be SURE to check out Kiratiana’s “Passport to Black Paris: A Bastille Day Celebration” and Travel Guide to Black Paris launch event. Not only can you pick up signed copies of her book (I DARE you not to plan a trip to the City of Light after checking out this take on Paris!), but the 6-8 p.m. July 14^th  event will feature Afro-French cuisine, adult libations, Afro-French literature and bien sûr, good sounds. 

For more info on July 14^th’s festivities at the gorgeous and historic Prairie Avenue Gallery in Chicago’s South Loop ‘hood, check out Kiratiana’s website. RSVP here at Ten20theband@gmail.com if you’re planning to go.

Bonne fête!

As a native Chicagoan, though, I like to think the city’s exposure to the global community over the past few years have exposed more of the world to the treasures here. Perhaps instead of foreign visitors automatically setting their sights on New York and Hollywood, they’ll spend their holidays and valuable tourist dollars here in the Windy City, a cultural gem underrated far too long.

But good for Rio de Janeiro. May they host a memorable 2016 Olympics, one that will showcase the amazing and gorgeous diversity of the Brazilian people. If we in Chicago couldn’t take home the gold, I’m just glad that Brazil—and South America, for the first time—will get a chance to shine on the world stage.

Crowds frolick around "The Bean," an Anish Kapoor-designed 110-ton stainless steel sculpture that helps define downtown's Millennium Park. WHEN Chicago is named as the host city for the 2016 Summer Olympics, you can bet locals and global tourists alike will be celebrating at this gorgeous Windy City spot, with Chicago's distinctive skyline in the background.

Many of us living here in Chicago were thrilled to wake up this morning and learn that President Barack Obama confirmed that he will INDEED be making that Air Force One flight to Copenhagen, Denmark, later this week to help his adopted hometown of Chicago secure the 2016 Summer Olympic Games.

UrbanTravelGirl readers know I have much love for our American commander-in-chief, as well as for First Lady Michelle and their two adorable daughters Malia and Sasha. I’m beyond proud to have this beautiful black family representing what’s RIGHT about America – its opportunity and its promise. So the fact that the Chicago 2016 Olympic team is counting on Brother Barack as the “closer,” to bring home the Olympic gold to Sweet Home Chicago, is almost too much for this South Side native.

Not sure how many of you have ever traveled to Chicago or know much about the city, but the “South Side” always gets a bad rap. It’s largely (as things often are viewed in America) because it’s home to a significant portion of the city’s African-Americans. Yes, there are plenty of violent, rundown parts of the South Side, but there also are majestic tree-lined enclaves filled with smart, open-minded people like Hyde Park (home to the world-renowned University of Chicago and the Obamas themselves!) and Beverly (a community that rivals those on the tony North Shore).

Just four days from now, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) will vote and determine whether to bestow the 2016 Summer Games on Tokyo, Madrid, Rio de Janeiro or Chicago. And for me, the fact that two African-American South Siders – Barack and Michelle – are going to be standing on that podium (along with Multimedia Queen Oprah Winfrey) making the case for bringing the world to this amazingly diverse city on Lake Michigan shores is cool beyond words. These two worldly, well-traveled black folks, who have not just succeeded in these supposedly United States but thrived beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, prove that the phrase “only in America” still rings true.

"Fired up and ready to go," indeed!

My mom Gloria stands just outside the Rome Baptist Church during our April 2007 trip to the Eternal City for our friend Monica's wedding.

A view from just above the entrance to the Rome Baptist Church, which stands in the charming Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina, just off one of the poshest shopping streets in town.

Here's Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the gorgeous French Riviera city of Nice. This multiethnic congregation welcomes English-speaking worshippers from all over the world.

I don’t know about you, but I’m often more psyched about going to church on the road than hitting a bunch of must-see museums and boutiques. Although mornings and I have never been friends, when I’m overseas, I make a point of finding an English-speaking service, whether I need to hop on a subway or bus or use my own two feet to get there. I enjoy the religious aspect of worship but for me, it’s also about experiencing local culture in one of its most authentic and expressive ways.

A friend from work recently left on her first trip to Italy, and besides sharing the names of fabulous trattorie, ristoranti and shops, I suggested she stop into St. James Church, which I used to attend during my days of living in Florence. Introduced to St. James by artist friends Louise LeBourgeois and Steven Carrelli from my very own Grace Episcopal Church in downtown Chicago, I found this congregation a beacon of warmth, welcome and friendship. And while its Episcopal worship style is much more “high church” than at Mt. Calvary Baptist which I attended as a kid on the South Side of Chicago, it’s full of international people who speak English – no small thing when you’ve spent the rest of your week struggling through broken Italian! (I still get misty-eyed when I get its weekly e-mails and way jealous when I read about its “day trips” to Assisi and other historic towns.)

One reason I fell so hard for St. James was the soulful singing of the world-traveling Florence Gospel Choir, led by Virginia native Nehemiah Brown. Forget about that old American adage that “11 o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week.” Nehemiah had these Italians, Germans, Brazilians, and a few African-Americans singing gospel classics so passionately they might as well have been in a church in Philadelphia or L.A. (Check out one of their videos here.) And on Sundays when the choir sang, I was transported back to the South Side, where my dad Farnell was a minister of music at Covenant and Baptist churches for nearly 40 years.

Even if we don’t go regularly now, many – if not MOST – of us black folks grew up going to somebody’s church. Besides, even if you’re not super-religious, there’s something special and sacred about being in a house of worship – ANYBODY’S house of worship – even if it’s not a faith tradition you follow. 

It’s all about the idea of FELLOWSHIP, the bringing of people together. That’s why — even if you’re shy or traveling alone — it’s so neat to stop by the “coffee hour” or whatever gathering is held AFTER the service. It’s there you’ll meet church members, many of whom are expats living in their chosen countries and eager to chat about their overseas experiences. And you’ll meet fascinating fellow travelers who, like you, have found sanctuary in this same holy place.

My mom Gloria, a Sunday School teacher for more years that she’d probably want me sharing on this blog, and I love to do this. When in Rome for an Italian friend’s wedding last spring, we made our way to the Rome Baptist Church (no joke!) in a lovely small piazza just off one of the chicest shopping streets in the Eternal City. We sat in on a Sunday School class taught by a wonderful African teacher, met fellow students from South Africa, Nigeria and the States, and enjoyed a morning worship service in the same city where St. Paul was imprisoned, wrote letters that later became books of the Christian New Testament, and likely was martyred.

We did the same thing last fall before leaving Barcelona on a Mediterranean cruise. Taking a cab up this Spanish port city’s winding hills, we found ourselves at the small yet super-friendly St. George’s Church, an Anglican/Episcopal congregation filled with members from across the globe. Not only was this a church I would have been HAPPY to call home if I lived in Barcelona, but these were smart, well-traveled folks who were just as down to earth as any we’d ever met. (And coming on the heels of Barack Obama’s election as president of the United States, we found ourselves embraced by folks who just wanted to talk about the miracle America had just pulled off!) The service itself was spirited but deeply moving, bringing tears to our eyes as we realized the oneness of worshippers, no matter where they live or where their churches may stand.

Now that I think of it, I’ve checked out Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the French Riviera town of Nice. I’ve attended worship at London’s famed Westminster Abbey, where Princess Diana’s seen-all-over-the-world funeral was held. And any time I’m in Paris on a Sunday, I stroll past the super-posh Four Seasons Hotel George V to the American Cathedral in Paris, where I dream of worshipping when I’m someday living in the City of Light.

But in the midst of all the sightseeing in foreign lands, it thrills me to know that God is the same all over the world, that praises are going up in different languages and dialects and still reach heaven the same way.

And that, in the words of my former Baptist pastor, is something to shout about!

But being a journalist who’s always searching for the sociological meaning and truth behind current events—and goodness knows this is the biggest global one since Barack Obama was elected president of the United States—I see Michael far beyond the off-the-charts performances, fantastically creative music and videos, and even the eccentricities that defined his later years.

Over the past few days, I’ve heard it stated by everyone from the Rev. Al Sharpton to former “CBS Evening News” anchor Dan Rather that Michael Jackson’s most lasting legacy to the world won’t be the impressive fact that he “desegregated” MTV back in the early 1980s. Not that he revolutionized the music video medium as we knew it. But the fact that he was the first African-American artist to achieve true global superstardom without constantly reminding folks he was black. These social critics—and I concur—changed the world by paving the way for global audiences to embrace and accept Chicago Bulls basketball phenom Michael Jordan. Multimedia mogul Oprah Winfrey, another black star who found her fame in my hometown Windy City. Golf genius Tiger Woods, who while still early in his career has permanently redefined his sport. And the third member of the Chicago trifecta, President Obama, who has ignited the world’s imagination in a way unlike any politician in my 40-year-old lifetime.

Now you say, what does this have to do with international travel? I say it has EVERYTHING to do with it.

Those of us who live in America often forget that what this country exports better than anything is its popular culture. Folks from Dublin to Dubai, from Buenos Aires to Beijing, form their impressions of America—and most certainly of AFRICAN-AMERICANS—from the musicians, actors, and more recently politicians we set upon pedestals. So when those of us African-Americans who DO travel go abroad, much of how we’re greeted has been shaped by the cultural forces that came before us. As I’ve written before in this blog, foreign nationals on cruise ships, regular folks in France, Italy, Turkey and Greece seem to feel an affinity for us (and perhaps these days for Americans of all colors) because of President Obama, a black American man of whom we can all be proud.

And long before any of us had ever heard Obama’s name, there was a performing sensation named Michael Jackson who made it “cool” to be black in countries where they’d probably never seen an African-American up close-and-personal. So beyond the music and the Moonwalk, those of us who consider ourselves citizens of the world can thank MJ for breaking down barriers long before we and our passports made it overseas.