The "freshman fifteen" was enough of a blow to our egos and our waistlines; do we really have to repeat the experience during our junior year abroad? It seems that every time our horizons are widened, our belts are loosened. Is intellectual and personal growth always associated with a much more tangible fleshing out?
Students studying in impoverished African countries (or England) may not have experienced this phenomenon, but Tufts-in-Paris is a little bit more challenging for the gourmets, much less the gourmands, of the world. Paris is, after all, the gastronomic mecca of the Western world -- the food is a step or two above typical dining hall fare.
And for a people not known for dining between meals, the French have a well-developed array of snack foods. Take the cr??pe au Nutella -- a paper-thin pancake filled with a inch-thick layer of chocolate-hazelnut spread (when it's properly done). Either cr??pes are strictly tourist food or the French as a nation have outrageously high metabolisms.
Though the French have begun to worry about obesity -- and the government has taken notice as well -- they remain slender as a whole, at least in comparison with Americans. Obesity levels here are one-third of those in the US; even the dogs are thinner.
But things may be changing, as the Institute of Health and Medical Research recently declared childhood obesity an epidemic in France. And this spring, a half-dozen garment makers cooperated to run the National Sizing Campaign, which re-measured the "typical" French man and woman in an attempt to bring clothing sizes back into line with reality.
Mostly paid for by the government, the Sizing Campaign found that the average French woman has gained 4.5 pounds and the average French man twice that over the past 30 years.
This does not seem like much for a country where people put butter on their bread before they put on cheese -- indeed, where per capita butter consumption is more than four times that of the US. Where exactly does that 8.8 kilograms (19.4 pounds!) of butter consumed per capita go?
These figures aside, the key to French slimness may be that -- brace yourselves, now -- the French consume fewer calories. It may be edifying to examine the Boston Globe's recent comparison of the Boston and Paris versions of the popular Zagat guide to restaurants.
The Beantown guide had over 75 references to "heaping," "hefty," or "hungry man's portions," or other colorful descriptions of large servings. One Boston restaurant "might as well serve the food in a trough," the Globe quoted. Sounds appetizing.
American visitors who reviewed Paris restaurants were more than a little disappointed, however. Here, the servings were variously described as "skimpy," "shrunken," or "disappointing by those not slated to appear on the cover of Vogue." But are these truly "portions for anorexics," or merely evidence of restraint and moderation?
If these ideas seem somewhat alien to us, there is yet further proof that France is located in a parallel food universe. Last year, French McDonald's took out magazine ads warning consumers that it was "best not to eat there more than once a week," according to Greg Critser, author of Fatland: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World.
Perhaps this moderation explains why svelte ness remains a French national characteristic, despite the richness of the cuisine. It surely isn't exercise that keeps the French thin: the concept of "going to the gym" is not exactly firmly ingrained in the culture here. "It just isn't convenient," explained one Tufts student's host mother, as if this weren't already the crux of the issue.
Even going for a run is unfamiliar territory to the French: joggers must get used to the fact that passers-by will stare with looks of -- perplexity? -- pity? Female joggers are the source of even more curiosity -- there are the expected whistles every now and then, but the cries of "Quelle sportive!" are really something new.
Even in the Jardin de Tuileries, one of Paris' biggest and most runner-friendly parks, there are hardly the before-work running crowds one would expect. Every now and then one does see the Paris firefighters taking a few laps and playing soccer with a charming boyish enthusiasm, but other runners are often wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the names of American universities.
Whether the influx of American-style foods and eating habits will cause the same obesity crisis here as in the US is unclear. The proprietor of one of the few free-service candy-scooping shops in Paris looked surprised when I asked him if his clients were mostly non-French. "No, mostly French," he said. "?ca commence."
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