Finish vs. Arrivée

Usually, the Anglo-Saxon culture is more positive than its French counterpart, at least this is my thinking based on half a century of observation. For instance, in sports events the goal is to reach a “Finish” line in English which signals termination or end with all the double-entendre this may imply. By contrast, the French language banner under which athletes reach their race goal is called “Arrivée” that simply means to arrive and is mostly without equivocal meaning.

In looking at these two expressions that tell the same idea, but could be construed as opposites, I’m not just comparing words; I’m teasing out how language sometimes reflects deeper attitudes toward effort, achievement, and closure. In the English language the word “Finish” carries a sense of completion, but also finality, even exhaustion. It’s the end of the road, the last breath, the curtain call. 

In English-speaking cultures, especially American ones, there’s often a strong emphasis on results, deadlines, and winning. “Finish strong” is a common mantra. The double meaning mentioned earlier, to finish as in to end or even to be finished, can evoke a kind of existential punctuation. It’s not just crossing a line; it’s closing a chapter. 

On the other hand, “Arrivée” could be heard as gentler, more neutral, even welcoming. It suggests arrival, presence, transition—not necessarily an end, but a point of passage. It could be that French culture places more value on process, experience, and nuance. The journey matters as much as the destination. Sure, there’s on ominous undertone to “arrive” in the word “arriviste” that refers to an ambitious person who uses any means necessary to gain success or social status. 

The use of that word weights little compared to “arrive” that means to reach a place. It doesn’t imply that something must stop. I’d conclude my observation by saying that Anglo-Saxon cultures often prize achievement, closure, and efficiency while France’s tradition may lean toward reflection, continuity, and presence. 

Even in how we talk about life stages, work, or travel, these linguistic frames shape our expectations. “Finishing” a career vs. “arriving” at retirement, see how different that feels? Perhaps we should all say: “To finish is to stop. To arrive is to begin again!” This line could be a great way to bridge my reflection into something more philosophical, perhaps even tying back to my last blog on dying happily. What if arriving at the end of life felt more like reaching a destination than being extinguished?