Say What?!

Whoops… it’s been awhile.

There are a lot of things I should have been blogging about in the past two weeks. To be terribly honest it’s been such a whirlwind I’ve barely had time to balance school planning, April vacation planning, job searching and an active social life… throw in the warm weather and I think that besides sleeping I haven’t spent more than 2 hours in my room a day in the last two weeks. 

But perhaps I should have been keeping you updated on that time…

 We went to the theatre and saw 3 middle-aged men on stage naked except for some cardboard cutouts of clothing items that were swiveled and swapped periodically throughout a song about two nudists living in an apartment.

World's Greatest Cheese

I tried what was proclaimed “World’s Greatest Cheese 2011” at the foyer wine and cheese tasting. It was French, naturally.

A student asked me if he could come to more of my classes to practice his English.

I went to La Rochelle, France on a day trip and got to lie on the beach and look at pirate graffiti all in one day.

La Rochelle

We stayed out dancing late enough to get a bakery croissant on the bike ride home.



We were invited to dinner from someone who works in administration from our school… and were treated to 3 bottles of wine, foie gras, quiche, 6 different types of cheeses, and fruit salad dessert. The last of which was served at midnight. Because that’s how long French dinners can last sometimes.

We went to the beach on a Wednesday and it was the perfect day.

 But you’re in for a treat today, dear blog readers (who I hope haven’t given up on me despite my lack of posts recently).  Today I shall give you a glimpse at one of the best parts of attempting to speak a foreign language in daily life… the mistakes. All the “bloopers” if you will. My mother has heard most of these and encouraged me to share them with you. I hope you find them as humorous as these real-life situations have been, and I’ll do my best to help you understand even if you don’t speak both languages.

The first is not so much a language mistake but a big part of living here all the same-  the simple freedom in being able to say whatever you want, in any situation, because you think no one can understand you. Speaking English here allows you to loudly say things like “It smells like someone poo’d their pants on this tram” without worrying about offending the person who does smell like they poo’d their pants. Until someone leans over and asks you in perfect English where you’re from. Which happened not all that long ago.

For the second, I first must apologize because I try to avoid using names in my blog, but at this point it is necessary to understand the joke…

One assistant moved into the foyer about a week before everyone else and was quite lonely and eager for us all to get here. The staff knew she would want to meet any new residents as soon as they arrived, and they told her when Thomas (pronounced Toe-Ma in French) moved in.

She replied that no, she did not want any “tomates” (pronounced Toe-mahts in French) because she had just purchased them from the store.

The foyer staff tried to tell her that no, Thomas was English.

She then told them that she had purchased “tomates” from Spain, but that’s ok. They didn’t have to be English.

One evening, while lounging around downstairs making some kind of delicious treat, our English friend declined said delicious treat stating “Non, je n’aime pas les amandes” (No, I don’t like almonds) which sounded a lot like “Non, je n’aime pas les allemands” (No I don’t like Germans).  Which unfortunately our German friend overheard.

My friends and I were walking to the tram stop to go out for the night, and one friend was in the middle of telling us a detailed “I was almost mugged by a group of 13 year olds at Espace Diderot” story. A French friend interrupted and asked “Oú ça?”  (where did this happen?). My friend stopped his story, looked puzzled for a minute, and thinking he had been interrupted by someone saying "Bonsoir" (Good Evening) replied “Bonsoir” before continuing his story.We now like to throw this word randomly into our conversations.

One of our French friends sometimes likes to use his conversational English with us. While playing a game he called us a “Shitter”.  You meant “Cheater” right? Unless you are trying to tell me that I smell like I just poo’d my pants on the tram.

We have since teased this friend a lot because of this one, hilarious mistake. Sometimes we like to call him a Shitter just for fun. He got very defensive one particular time that we were teasing him. Trying to make him feel better, my English friend told him “Non, tu me fais plaisir avec ta langue”, trying to say “Your language makes me happy” but instead saying “You give me pleasure with your tongue”.  The tables then turned, who was laughing at who.

Along that unintentional sexual note, even though the 2 kiss on the cheek tradition is called “les bises” and the verb that you are taught in school for “to kiss” is “se baiser”… nowadays it means  “to have sex”. This vocabulary is very useful when gossiping in French… I once accidently told a friend that I saw someone having sex on the dance floor of a bar one night. Which in France, the capital of PDA, I would not be all that surprised to see, but  was not the case this specific time.

I almost forgot, the time that someone was explaining that they were making dinner with a pan and said "cuisiner a poele", which came out a lot like saying that she was cooking naked in her room instead. 

And my favorite… One of my friends was horrified to learn that instead of yelling what he thought was “Repeat after me”, he was instead yelling “Fart again, after me” to his middle school children in class. How those kids stifled their giggles is still a mystery.

Learn another language. It’s funny.

Bisous,

Steph

Success!

Check out this beaut of a bike! 

This Wednesday we went to the company's offices to ask how to rent a bike. They directed us back to the underground parking area. We explained what happened last week there. They acted very confused, then smiled because maybe since we are foreign we were not understood. This was no language barrier... the man told us to make a request (un demande) on the internet (same word, just with a french accent). We both understood each other completely.

Leaving the office, my friend asked me "Do you think we will ever stop being a novelty here?" People just give us these looks of either sympathy, pity, or amusement that seem to say: Awww cute little foreign girls with accents, trying to rent a bike, muddling their way through life in France.

Fortunately, the man this week was happy to help, and excited to try to speak a bit of English with us (he proudly told me that he worked in Orlando at Disney for 3 months).  We went through the whole process in my favorite language- Franglais. The wonderful mixture of English and French.

Same place, different week, different outcome. How to explain this? My best guess is that last week the man working just didn't feel like going through the process of renting bikes to us. even though it's part of his job. There were about 40 bikes in that room, and I don't think they all become available just this week.

I'm looking forward to getting more comfortable on the road (I have a helmet and a child-sized glowy vest to protect me, so nerdy, so necessary), discovering new places, enjoying the sunshine, detaching myself from the limits of a public transportation schedule, and going on multiple picnics with my bike. A wonderful treat for the last 2 months of my stay here in France.

*I'm hoping to avoid at all costs the bike incident that occurred during my study abroad session. But if anything happens again, you can be sure you will get an email from me before I even secure my bike, clean my injuries, and take care of myself. Bahaha.

En Faite… Non.

We don’t work on Wednesdays, at least most of us. Primary schools are closed and the High Schools only have class until 12. I usually use Wednesdays for sleeping in, drowning out all light with the French “black out blinds” (you seriously have no idea that time of day it is when they are closed and could sleep foreverrrr/why didn’t we have those in college?), going for a run, and getting all my weekly errands done. 

This past week’s errand list involved trying to rent a bike, and I came across some of the customer service that is so notorious here, the kind that made my friend and I stop and say “How French was that!?” 

Armed with information from our lovely foyer “animatrice” about where we can rent bikes, we venture downtown and follow signs to a slightly sketchy looking staircase leading to an underground parking lot. There is a desk, a place to pay for parking, and thankfully a few brochures to tell us we are in the right place.  After pretending to read all the brochure information (because I read it all already online) we build up the confidence to speak with the man at the desk. Here is the conversation that followed:

Frenchie “Oh you want a bike… you have to make a request online for that… do you have internet?”

(Yes we have internet. We’re foreign, not 100).

Foreigners “So you don’t have bikes for rent right now?”

Frenchie “Yes you can rent them for a half day, for the day, for the month… you must fill out the form and make a request online”

Foreigners “It’s impossible to do it here? Where you rent the bikes?”

Frenchie “Let me write down the internet address for you”

Foreigners “So after we make our request, how long will it take to get a bike”

Frenchie “Oh… (Insert a lot of meaningless but often used French sound effects here. We do not have an equivalent for them) In fact, I cannot tell you a number of days. Sometimes it is fast. Sometimes it takes a long time”

*trails off into what I think is mutual, confused, silence

Foreigners “So you can’t tell us how long this process usually takes?”

Frenchie “In fact, No.”

This seems extreme, this complete lack of customer service, but in actuality it’s a part of the culture here that we’ve noticed in restaurants, at formal government offices, even at the French Consulate in Chicago. .. and it may be a big culprit for the ever-persistent “The French are rude” stereotype. They’re not necessarily rude; it’s more like they just don’t care. Unlike in America, where “the customer is always right”, here you should feel lucky that you were permitted into the building and that someone is talking to you.

The best part? I’ve scoured their website. There is nowhere to make a request online. I’m unsure as to whether we were talking to an actual employee.  

It was raining by the time this entire exchange was over, so I can only think I have excellent karma and the weather gods were just looking out for me. Who wants to cycle 20 minutes home in the rain? Not this girl. 

The only thing to do after an experience like this? March right over to your nearest pastry shop, enjoy a few macarons, and stop in a café for a cup of strong black coffee. And then try it all again next week, hoping someone else is working the desk. I’ll keep you posted. 

Bisous

Nantes & Coldplay

Here's a promotional video for the Nantes Marathon and les Foulées de l'éléphant (a 9k held on the same day).

While I will not be taking part in the race (duh), this little video highlights so many wonderful parts of my city. It would be a shame not to share it with you. Enjoy my city...it's almost like you're visiting me!


http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xp5pyw_cold-play-paradise-parody-adventure-of-elephant_fun


Bises

Steph