I never expected to feel close to one child in particular, and this is exactly what happened to me in the Mayan village of Red Bank, Belize.

Yenni, an eleven-year-old girl, found me. I noticed her in the classroom, when I called upon all the children to follow me for their health screening. She seemed different, perhaps her assertiveness, her “tom-boy” look and the fact that she was one of the few girls who wore pants instead of a skirt, made Yenni stand out.

Yenni didn’t just follow me, she studied the nurses and their treatments. She watched as they wrapped the blood pressure cuff around the arms of the kids, applied creams to infected skin and took temperatures. I could tell her brain cells had kicked into full-time absorption mode. During a restroom break–something we all tried to avoid due to pungent odors and lack of water to flush–Yenni pretended to wash her hands so she could talk to me.
“What’s my name?” she asked.
I met her the day before and felt like I had to pass her quiz or she would get very upset. I often forget names but not faces, and for some reason, Yenni popped into my brain instantly.
“Yenni,” I said and she looked at me like I’d just given her the best birthday gift ever.
“So what do you want to be?” I asked her.
“A doctor,” she replied.
I knew it; this girl has something special.
I alerted nurse Judy Krieg to this special girl and she promised to keep an eye on her, as once in a while you come across someone outstanding, and I believe Yenni is a star. Perhaps a future nurse Judy.

An eye chart test on the children.

As nurse Judy said over and over again, “All is good,” a phrase I’ve adopted in my own life as it has such a soothing effect on your day to day routine. Another phrase I love to hear from Judy, “It is what it is.”

The younger kids showing so much affection to one another. It felt good to see that.

Angie explaining how the kids need to brush their teeth. We saw so many young kids with cracked teeth. Half of the tooth was missing.

So I have the first child I really would like to help as I believe she can make a difference in her community. Unfortunatley she doesn’t have access to a computer and when I asked about mailing her letters, she looked at me not understanding what mail means. Any suggestions on how to keep in touch? Have you ever had an experience like this where you’ve felt like sponsoring a child?

I’m in a hotel room in Naples, Florida right now, looking at a future place to move to. Once you move around the world, you keep wanting to move; at least I do. More later.

“American women don’t know many things about themselves. They try to be right. You have to be yourself. But you have to know who you are.” Sonia Rykiel
No, I didn’t say that. It’s the famous French designer, Sonia.

At Barbara DeMarco Barrett’s “Pen on Fire Speaker Series,” I had the pleasure of listening to American author, Debra Ollivier, talk about her new book, What French Women Know. Ollivier, an American, married a French man and lived in the 19th arrondissement in Paris long enough to give her an amazing perspective on the differences between both cultures, and how women view love, sex and other matters of the heart and mind.

I have taken some snippets out of Ollivier’s book, What French Women Know, to show how well she describes the differences between American and French women. “When we American women aren’t busy trying to change ourselves, we’re often busy trying to change our men.” She mentions an American women’s magazine titled, “Can You Fix Him?” which drives her point across. This is not how French women think. They use emotional intelligence, in more subtle ways.

In another interesting example Ollivier quotes her French friend, Cecile. “Love is not a balance sheet….I did this for you; now you do that…love and sex don’t work that way… Living happily with men is about finding a way to achieve reciprocity and complementarity, not perfect 50-50 egalitarianism.”

One of the reasons American women may not be as happy as French women is that Americans strive for perfection. “French women generally don’t strive for exalted standards of happiness, neither do they strive for exalted standards of moral perfection,” Ollivier writes. Because most French women know who they are, “they often don’t give a damn what we think of them.” Ollivier says, “they don’t grow up with the cultural mandate to be liked.”

From having spent many years in France, I completely agree with this statement. I find myself translating phrases such as, “You did such a great job,” “I love your hair,” the way I would speak to friends in the U.S., into French, and it often comes across as completely phony. Often there’s an awkward silence, and I remember, this is not how French women speak to one another. I have to try to become the “French” woman in France, and the “American” woman in the U.S.

I found the examples Ollivier gives in her book fascinating. I’m curious what comments or questions you have regarding the differences between women of different cultures.