The only problem is, it’s not easy to change the way you view the world. Even today, the English have trouble completely converting to this much more understandable system of measurement. As for us Americans, I think we’ve mostly just stopped trying.
After struggling with the metric system in school, I figured I was done with it. But then I came to live in France.
Though I’m completely idiotic when it comes to math, in America I could at least understand basic units of measurement. An inch is roughly the size of my thumb, and a foot is the length of the ruler that I’d carried in my backpack from kindergarten to eleventh grade. (In twelfth grade I had the opportunity to skip math class altogether — and I did, without hesitation.) My love of fresh-sliced American cheese quickly made me understand the true weight of a pound.
When I arrived in France, I realized I had no idea what the size of a centimeter really was. 10 millimeters, of course, a metric system fanatic would chide me — but that told me nothing. I remember once hearing that a millimeter was about the thickness of a single human hair, but I couldn’t imagine 10 of those together side by side making up a centimeter.
The unit of measurement I used most often, though, was the meter. When you buy fabric here — which we do a lot, for my husband’s Napoleonic military reenactment costumes — you have to measure by this unit. You also have to use meters when you do DIY stuff, buy bookshelves, and talk about your own height. A meter is roughly equal to a yard, but I couldn’t really picture a yard very well; teachers were always the ones with yardsticks when I was in school.
Back in the late 1700’s, when the entire French population had to convert to the metric system, the authorities realized it wouldn’t be easy. It was decided that stone plaques indicating the length of a meter, as well as smaller measurements contained within it, would be placed in areas around Paris. Although most of these plaques are no longer on the city’s buildings today, two remain.
The plan worked: today, Parisians — and all French people for that matter — seem to know how long a meter is.
This plaque is no longer anything but a curiosity from a bygone era, but I can tell you as someone who’s had to learn the metric system that it’s still very helpful. The first time I came across it, I found that I could study it and visualize it in proportion to my body (sort of regressive, if you think about it, but hey, being born into a measuring system related to anatomy and nature means such an instinct isn’t easy to shake).
Before I’d found the marker, though, I’d already come upon a surprising — and sort of shameful — solution.
Globalization has its ups and downs. On the one hand, I hate that there’s a Starbucks at the Place Blanche, probably occupying the site where a traditional café or bistro used to sit, and where in bygone days many of Montmartre’s famous artists and artists’ models might have come to drink and have fascinating conversations. On the other hand, it’s the only place in the neighborhood where I can get hot tea to go if I have a sore throat.
Years ago, one of my American friends and I came upon a Subway restaurant just off the Place de la Bastille, the symbolic birthplace of the French Revolution. We stared at the façade disgustedly. And yet, a few months later, we sheepishly went inside and ordered sandwiches. French food is wonderful, but sometimes you just want a sandwich from Subway. Even French people do!
Going into a Subway restaurant in Paris is what the French would describe as “dépaysant” — it momentarily takes you out of the country in which you find yourself. This term is usually figurative, but in the case of Subway, it’s almost literal. Subway restaurants here look exactly as they do in the U.S. It’s said the meat is even imported from the States. I’m not sure if that’s true, but the smell of the restaurants is exactly the same as back home. It’s really weird.
The only thing that’s different about the experience (besides ordering in French — though a lot of people who work there do speak English as well) is that the sandwiches are measured in centimeters, instead of inches and feet. Yep, no “Five euro foot-long” here. I quickly learned that a six inch sub is a 15 centimeter, and a foot-long is a 30 centimeter.
These may be approximate equivalents, but it worked for me. One day, I heard someone describing a sculpture as 16 centimeters high and I found myself visualizing half a Subway sub! Suddenly, I understood! A whole world was opened to me! A meter is about three big Subway subs lying end-to-end.
I’m 1.57 meters tall. That’s a little more than five ham and cheese subs.
Over the years, I’ve learned to cope with other metric measurements. A kilogram is about two pounds…which can be really bad when you weigh yourself. And I think I may have put on a few kilograms eating things like those Subway subs….
I still can’t figure out kilometers, though. Too bad I can’t find a place that makes sandwiches that long.