Je veux remercier chacun que nous avons rencontré de la région Lorraine de faire un accueil chaleureux à nous. Toute le monde était si gentil. Merci !! Vous êtes très bienvenu de rester chez nous si vous venez à Santa Cruz dans l'avenir. Judith a l’adresse !
En particulier, bien sûr, je dois remercie ma belle amie, Judith, et ses parents incroyables, Roby et Agnès. Ils nous ont donné une bienvenue extraordinaire. Grâce à eux, nous avons eu une opportunité rare pour deux voyageuses – à connaître une région de l’intérieur. Aussi, nous nous sentons si heureux que nous avons eu la bonne chance de passer beaucoup de temps avec leur famille et les amis de Judith.
Notre séjour dans la région sera toujours un souvenir précieux.
Gros bisous à tous!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Last trip blog (in English)
Well, I am on the plane to the USA. This, therefore, will be the final English language blog of this trip. (As you can infer, I will do a post in French as well.) However, I have sort of liked doing this so I think I will continue it during our Hawaii trip. We are gone from September 16 – January 13th.
I thought I should add to my list of a things I like better in France (and Germany) as my final blog.
1. Trash can technology – in both the last two places I stayed, you open a door, the trash can comes out and the lid opens. Now, we probably have these trash cans somewhere in the US – but everyone was amused that I liked them so much as they are normal in Europe.
2. Toilet technology - I believe that the Japanese and Koreans are the world leaders here, but Europe has quickly adopted really good toilets that use very little water. We are way behind.
3. Lights on timed switches or motion detectors in hallways and stairwells - Every place we stayed, the lights in public halls and stairwells were off unless one actively turned on the switch (but it would turn off soon after) or a motion detector that also went off quickly. Why do we leave lights burning all the time in the same situation?
4. You have to bring your own bag to a grocery store or pay for a bag. Therefore, everybody brings there own bag and paper/plastic isn’t wasted.
5. In Paris, you must open the door on the subways. In every American subway that I have been on, all the doors open automatically at every stop. Now, I am stupid when it comes to subway technology – but I bet it uses less energy the French way.
6. All the toll takers in France are so nice! (This is a repeat but it delights me so much.) We went through about 14 tolls booths. They always say “Bonjour” or “Bonsoir”. They always say “Merci”. I don’t know about you – but, in America, I always say hello to the toll taker and thank you after they take the money and they never respond. They look so sour. We need French toll-takers!
I thought I should add to my list of a things I like better in France (and Germany) as my final blog.
1. Trash can technology – in both the last two places I stayed, you open a door, the trash can comes out and the lid opens. Now, we probably have these trash cans somewhere in the US – but everyone was amused that I liked them so much as they are normal in Europe.
2. Toilet technology - I believe that the Japanese and Koreans are the world leaders here, but Europe has quickly adopted really good toilets that use very little water. We are way behind.
3. Lights on timed switches or motion detectors in hallways and stairwells - Every place we stayed, the lights in public halls and stairwells were off unless one actively turned on the switch (but it would turn off soon after) or a motion detector that also went off quickly. Why do we leave lights burning all the time in the same situation?
4. You have to bring your own bag to a grocery store or pay for a bag. Therefore, everybody brings there own bag and paper/plastic isn’t wasted.
5. In Paris, you must open the door on the subways. In every American subway that I have been on, all the doors open automatically at every stop. Now, I am stupid when it comes to subway technology – but I bet it uses less energy the French way.
6. All the toll takers in France are so nice! (This is a repeat but it delights me so much.) We went through about 14 tolls booths. They always say “Bonjour” or “Bonsoir”. They always say “Merci”. I don’t know about you – but, in America, I always say hello to the toll taker and thank you after they take the money and they never respond. They look so sour. We need French toll-takers!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Fishermen, horsewomen, and operaland
Everyone needs to find the thing that puts them at peace, where the day-to-day cares of the world recede and perfection seems possible – if for just short moments. For my host, Roby, that thing is fishing. I had the privilege of entering his world for 6 hours when we went to his secret spot on a nearby river where he patiently shared his expertise with me. Of course, the instructions were in French, as he doesn’t really speak English. And, as I mentioned, my comprehension of French is around 30%. So, perhaps, my learning curve was slower than it would normally be. But, no matter, it worked. Roby was very patient as he dealt with my multiple fishing line tangles. In between tangles, it was so peaceful. So perfect. Time to just let the mind wander and contemplate.
I thought of all the fishermen I knew – quite a large number – along with the fact that I don’t know any fisherwomen. I wonder why this particular passion seems to attract men more than women? And, then I thought of our visit the day before to see the equestrian center where Judith used to ride. We went there to see Amelie ride. (She is a Judith’s friend who we met last summer in Santa Cruz.) It was a world of women. Oh, there was a man here or there, but anyone who spends time at equestrian centers in Europe or the United States knows that it is a world dominated by women. I know lots of horsewomen, but no horsemen. Fishing for men? Horses for women? What is up with that? I don't know. Please explain it to me if you understand it. Regardless, I do know that they both have the same function. The escape from the stresses of life. The time to just be in the moment… at peace.
For me, it’s opera. Not all operas. Not all the time. But, there is nothing that is better at creating serenity for me than really listening to and feeling a full opera. The experience sometimes seems almost outside time and space. When I have this feeling, I say that I am in operaland.
I am pretty sure that Roby is in a similar mental space when everything is right – the weather is perfect, the fish are biting. I am sure he goes to fishland. And those women on their horses surely go to horseland.
But back to Roby and his fish. He is just so adorable with his beloved fish. He makes food for the fish. He made some balls the size of big marbles for the carp; he makes balls the size of little marbles for some medium-sized fish and he makes some other concoction for the little fishes. (I have no idea what is in the food as he told me it all in French – but it looked and smelled like fish would like it.) When he first showed me this stuff, I just thought it was bait. But, no – the river is like his huge aquarium and he wants them all to be really well fed. So, after we finishing fishing for the day, he slingshots the big balls to the carp (that he indicated hang out up the river from his secret spot), tossed the medium sized balls a bit closer and threw in a bunch of the other concoction all around for the little fish. Now, a cynic might think that he is doing that only so the fish want to remain around this particular spot so he can later catch them. And, sure, that is true, too. But, I tell you – he also just loves his fish. And, I love him for how much he loves his fish.
I thought of all the fishermen I knew – quite a large number – along with the fact that I don’t know any fisherwomen. I wonder why this particular passion seems to attract men more than women? And, then I thought of our visit the day before to see the equestrian center where Judith used to ride. We went there to see Amelie ride. (She is a Judith’s friend who we met last summer in Santa Cruz.) It was a world of women. Oh, there was a man here or there, but anyone who spends time at equestrian centers in Europe or the United States knows that it is a world dominated by women. I know lots of horsewomen, but no horsemen. Fishing for men? Horses for women? What is up with that? I don't know. Please explain it to me if you understand it. Regardless, I do know that they both have the same function. The escape from the stresses of life. The time to just be in the moment… at peace.
For me, it’s opera. Not all operas. Not all the time. But, there is nothing that is better at creating serenity for me than really listening to and feeling a full opera. The experience sometimes seems almost outside time and space. When I have this feeling, I say that I am in operaland.
I am pretty sure that Roby is in a similar mental space when everything is right – the weather is perfect, the fish are biting. I am sure he goes to fishland. And those women on their horses surely go to horseland.
But back to Roby and his fish. He is just so adorable with his beloved fish. He makes food for the fish. He made some balls the size of big marbles for the carp; he makes balls the size of little marbles for some medium-sized fish and he makes some other concoction for the little fishes. (I have no idea what is in the food as he told me it all in French – but it looked and smelled like fish would like it.) When he first showed me this stuff, I just thought it was bait. But, no – the river is like his huge aquarium and he wants them all to be really well fed. So, after we finishing fishing for the day, he slingshots the big balls to the carp (that he indicated hang out up the river from his secret spot), tossed the medium sized balls a bit closer and threw in a bunch of the other concoction all around for the little fish. Now, a cynic might think that he is doing that only so the fish want to remain around this particular spot so he can later catch them. And, sure, that is true, too. But, I tell you – he also just loves his fish. And, I love him for how much he loves his fish.
Je suis différente et difficile
I think there is something really wrong with me. Other people seem to really like seeing pretty or ‘interesting’ things – like forests and fields of flowers and old ruins and castles and quaint villages and grand cathedrals. All I can do as I go from field to village to forest and back again is to hear Ronald Reagan in my mind…”If you have seen one ……, you have seen them all”. He was talking about redwoods, of course – but it works for everything.
What do I like? People, people and more people. Can’t get enough of them. Watching people, talking with people, talking about people, meeting people, communicating with people. When people are the focus - at a meal, for instance - I have been really happy. But, when walking and driving to see buildings or landscapes is the focus, I have been, well, quite difficult.
Agnes and Roby, the parents of Judith, have been extraordinary hosts here in the Lorraine. They, along with Judith, have pulled out all the stops to introduce us to their region and their family. It has been an amazing opportunity and I have enjoyed every second when people have been the focus. Even though 90% of the conversations have been in French and I only understand, perhaps, 30% - this remains true. Roby has cooked three delicious meals. Judith threw a fantastic party where she introduced us to her 15 closet friends. Yesterday, we had a wonderful meal that Rose Marie, Roby’s mom, cooked for the family and the family of Roby’s brother. We had a great tea with Agnes’ mom, Colette. Several great meals out – one with Agnes’ totally cool sister, Valerie. Wine has flowed freely. What could be better? People, food and wine. My favorite things. We have been extremely privileged to be invited into their home and lives. I feel so lucky.
And yet – you know I am getting back to the “but” – I began to really dislike daytrips to see anything. Agnes wanted to show us the area and planned a series of daytrips around the Alsace/ Lorraine region. A normal person – like Leslie, for example – seems to enjoy this sort of excursion. But things – and I don’t care how ‘beautiful’ or ‘magnificent’ or ‘quaint’ or ‘ancient’ – leave me cold most of the time. Occasionally, for a brief moment – something strikes me as interesting. I remember thinking the Metz cathedral was pretty cool, for example. It reminded me of a particular set from the Lord of the Rings. Ummm…. Ummmm. Can’t think of anything else. See, I am not normal at all! I am a different kind of person!
And, even though I do like food a lot, I was constantly saying "no" to various offers of this kind of food or that kind of food, I asked Judith what the word for picky was in French and she said difficile. I said - but what do you use for a generally fussy person: difficile. Ok, I embrace it as it works for me both ways on this trip. Je suis differente et difficile!
This fact about me has made me feel bad and guilty, of course. Our hosts – particularly Agnes - have been totally enthusiastic to show us the area that their families have lived for many generations and I am not – quite obviously – appreciative enough. What a horrible person I am!
As already discussed in the July 17th blog entitled Why Leslie’s IQ is 14 points higher than mine, Leslie is the far more curious and well-rounded person. As always, she is interested in everything. Taking pictures, asking questions – soaking it all in. I do like watching her enjoy everything.
And then there is Agnes. She is a force of nature. Absolutely extraordinary. She is like Leslie - interested in everything, curious about everything – but also has this amazing stamina (unlike Leslie). She is fearless and lots of fun. I also love watching her. I have adored all the times we have been sitting around the house or at a restaurant talking. But, she is really quite the taskmaster. Go, Go, Go. Allez, allez, allez. I do have a relative who is very similar, my sister-in-law Tobae. The difference is that I don’t feel obligated with Tobae to go on her many adventures – her entreaties fall on deaf ears. But, how could I say no to this astonishing host?
Somehow I found a way. I just had to “come out” as the different and difficult person that I am, as I couldn’t stand one more daytrip. And, Agnes adapted quickly to my personality quirks without taking, I think, any offense. She and Leslie now roam the countryside together while I sit at home writing this. They are at some 10th century church as this very moment. But, you know, I really think that if you have seen one church, you’ve seen them all.
What do I like? People, people and more people. Can’t get enough of them. Watching people, talking with people, talking about people, meeting people, communicating with people. When people are the focus - at a meal, for instance - I have been really happy. But, when walking and driving to see buildings or landscapes is the focus, I have been, well, quite difficult.
Agnes and Roby, the parents of Judith, have been extraordinary hosts here in the Lorraine. They, along with Judith, have pulled out all the stops to introduce us to their region and their family. It has been an amazing opportunity and I have enjoyed every second when people have been the focus. Even though 90% of the conversations have been in French and I only understand, perhaps, 30% - this remains true. Roby has cooked three delicious meals. Judith threw a fantastic party where she introduced us to her 15 closet friends. Yesterday, we had a wonderful meal that Rose Marie, Roby’s mom, cooked for the family and the family of Roby’s brother. We had a great tea with Agnes’ mom, Colette. Several great meals out – one with Agnes’ totally cool sister, Valerie. Wine has flowed freely. What could be better? People, food and wine. My favorite things. We have been extremely privileged to be invited into their home and lives. I feel so lucky.
And yet – you know I am getting back to the “but” – I began to really dislike daytrips to see anything. Agnes wanted to show us the area and planned a series of daytrips around the Alsace/ Lorraine region. A normal person – like Leslie, for example – seems to enjoy this sort of excursion. But things – and I don’t care how ‘beautiful’ or ‘magnificent’ or ‘quaint’ or ‘ancient’ – leave me cold most of the time. Occasionally, for a brief moment – something strikes me as interesting. I remember thinking the Metz cathedral was pretty cool, for example. It reminded me of a particular set from the Lord of the Rings. Ummm…. Ummmm. Can’t think of anything else. See, I am not normal at all! I am a different kind of person!
And, even though I do like food a lot, I was constantly saying "no" to various offers of this kind of food or that kind of food, I asked Judith what the word for picky was in French and she said difficile. I said - but what do you use for a generally fussy person: difficile. Ok, I embrace it as it works for me both ways on this trip. Je suis differente et difficile!
This fact about me has made me feel bad and guilty, of course. Our hosts – particularly Agnes - have been totally enthusiastic to show us the area that their families have lived for many generations and I am not – quite obviously – appreciative enough. What a horrible person I am!
As already discussed in the July 17th blog entitled Why Leslie’s IQ is 14 points higher than mine, Leslie is the far more curious and well-rounded person. As always, she is interested in everything. Taking pictures, asking questions – soaking it all in. I do like watching her enjoy everything.
And then there is Agnes. She is a force of nature. Absolutely extraordinary. She is like Leslie - interested in everything, curious about everything – but also has this amazing stamina (unlike Leslie). She is fearless and lots of fun. I also love watching her. I have adored all the times we have been sitting around the house or at a restaurant talking. But, she is really quite the taskmaster. Go, Go, Go. Allez, allez, allez. I do have a relative who is very similar, my sister-in-law Tobae. The difference is that I don’t feel obligated with Tobae to go on her many adventures – her entreaties fall on deaf ears. But, how could I say no to this astonishing host?
Somehow I found a way. I just had to “come out” as the different and difficult person that I am, as I couldn’t stand one more daytrip. And, Agnes adapted quickly to my personality quirks without taking, I think, any offense. She and Leslie now roam the countryside together while I sit at home writing this. They are at some 10th century church as this very moment. But, you know, I really think that if you have seen one church, you’ve seen them all.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Love those bises...
I just adore the bises in France. Absolutely my favorite thing. This is when French friends (and usually acquaintances) exchange kisses on alternating cheeks upon meeting and separating. It is just so sweet. In the morning, the very first thing, Judith, Roby et Agnes (and also Leslie!) give me bises. When we go to bed, I get bises. When they go out, I get bises. Lots of bises. It is so fun!
I have no idea what size group is necessary to stop the practice of everyone giving everyone else bises upon greeting (and parting) but I now know from experience that 15 isn’t too much. Judith had a party of that size to introduce us to her friends. And, when the last three came in, they methodically moved around a very cramped table to impart the bises to each person in turn. (Leslie filmed these particular bises. We will be happy to show you the ‘native customs’ when we return.)
As we all know, in the United States there might be a hug for your close friends in a group that size. But, no way would we walk around hugging, kissing or otherwise acknowledging each person in turn. Just would not happen.
I really hate to be repetitive – but it is just so damn sweet.
I have no idea what size group is necessary to stop the practice of everyone giving everyone else bises upon greeting (and parting) but I now know from experience that 15 isn’t too much. Judith had a party of that size to introduce us to her friends. And, when the last three came in, they methodically moved around a very cramped table to impart the bises to each person in turn. (Leslie filmed these particular bises. We will be happy to show you the ‘native customs’ when we return.)
As we all know, in the United States there might be a hug for your close friends in a group that size. But, no way would we walk around hugging, kissing or otherwise acknowledging each person in turn. Just would not happen.
I really hate to be repetitive – but it is just so damn sweet.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Some Generalizations: Jehovah’s Witnesses and German drivers
As human beings are wired to do, I seek patterns to make sense of the world. From these perceived patterns come generalizations that – hopefully - contain some truth that helps me successfully navigate my way in the world. Of course, when you meet an individual such generalizations must be held very, very loosely. I have made some gross generalizations in this blog and will continue to do so. But, individual people are always so damn unique!
For instance, Judith has a friend who is a Jehovah’s Witness (JW). Ok – I need to admit right now that I have only met JWs at my door when they were evangelizing and have found them to be the closest thing to zombies that I have ever met. (Think Invasion of the Body Snatchers). So – the pattern is: JWs are zombie-like. Generalization: JWs must be dumb and lack critical thinking skills. I think it is clear that I have a prejudice against JWs. But, Judith likes this woman a lot – so I was sure that she would not meet the pattern. And, indeed she did not. She was absolutely charming, intelligent and – this is an aside but feels relevant – a knockout. So, I will admit, I assumed that it must be her parents that were the zombies.
Totally wrong. Judith’s friend and her mother came by Judith’s house for a visit and the mom was also absolutely charming, intelligent and very, very talkative. Ok, she was speaking rapidly in French so I probably only caught 20% - but it was a charming 20%. She had absolutely no zombie-like qualities. So, the pattern is totally broken, the prejudice is exploded. (I have to add at this point that even though I had this horrible, now-proven-wrong prejudice against the people who practice the JW religion – I have long loved them because of their fight for our first amendment rights. If you don't know this history, please read this to get the gist of how crucial JWs were to the expansions of our basic freedoms: http://www.adherents.com/largecom/jw_freedom.html
It is because of them, for instance, that this atheist wasn’t required to stand and say the pledge of allegiance at school.)
Interestingly, when Judith’s JW friend and mom came over, the subject turned to Germans. The mom was talking about how much she hated the German language – how difficult it was. But, then she added that as much as she hated the language, she loved the people because they were so polite. And, everyone there (all French folks) quickly agreed that Germans are more polite than the French – particularly when it comes to driving. Given my last blog, I thought it was important to add this in….
Speaking as a person trying to learn French, I did find it amusing that she was talking about how hard German is to learn. I understand that German has its difficulties with declensions and all that. But for an English speaker, German has some real advantages. Consider these two sentences:
Was ist das?
Qu’est-ce que c’est que ça?
The meaning of both is: What is that?
The German seems straightforward to me and one can easily learn - and say correctly - three German words with that sentence. But, what the hell is going on in the French? Where is what? Where is is? Where is that? And how the hell do you prounounce that, anyway?
And she thinks German is hard????
For instance, Judith has a friend who is a Jehovah’s Witness (JW). Ok – I need to admit right now that I have only met JWs at my door when they were evangelizing and have found them to be the closest thing to zombies that I have ever met. (Think Invasion of the Body Snatchers). So – the pattern is: JWs are zombie-like. Generalization: JWs must be dumb and lack critical thinking skills. I think it is clear that I have a prejudice against JWs. But, Judith likes this woman a lot – so I was sure that she would not meet the pattern. And, indeed she did not. She was absolutely charming, intelligent and – this is an aside but feels relevant – a knockout. So, I will admit, I assumed that it must be her parents that were the zombies.
Totally wrong. Judith’s friend and her mother came by Judith’s house for a visit and the mom was also absolutely charming, intelligent and very, very talkative. Ok, she was speaking rapidly in French so I probably only caught 20% - but it was a charming 20%. She had absolutely no zombie-like qualities. So, the pattern is totally broken, the prejudice is exploded. (I have to add at this point that even though I had this horrible, now-proven-wrong prejudice against the people who practice the JW religion – I have long loved them because of their fight for our first amendment rights. If you don't know this history, please read this to get the gist of how crucial JWs were to the expansions of our basic freedoms: http://www.adherents.com/largecom/jw_freedom.html
It is because of them, for instance, that this atheist wasn’t required to stand and say the pledge of allegiance at school.)
Interestingly, when Judith’s JW friend and mom came over, the subject turned to Germans. The mom was talking about how much she hated the German language – how difficult it was. But, then she added that as much as she hated the language, she loved the people because they were so polite. And, everyone there (all French folks) quickly agreed that Germans are more polite than the French – particularly when it comes to driving. Given my last blog, I thought it was important to add this in….
Speaking as a person trying to learn French, I did find it amusing that she was talking about how hard German is to learn. I understand that German has its difficulties with declensions and all that. But for an English speaker, German has some real advantages. Consider these two sentences:
Was ist das?
Qu’est-ce que c’est que ça?
The meaning of both is: What is that?
The German seems straightforward to me and one can easily learn - and say correctly - three German words with that sentence. But, what the hell is going on in the French? Where is what? Where is is? Where is that? And how the hell do you prounounce that, anyway?
And she thinks German is hard????
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Germans and the French
When one goes to Europe, the weight of history seems (and is) so much stronger than it is in the United States. Certainly this is particularly true of the relationship between the French and the Germans. Americans – of course – are unconcerned about history of any kind, much less European history. In considering French/German relations, most would think back only to World War II or, if they are older, perhaps World War I. (Though I need to add that I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that 50% of Americans under 30 don’t know anything substantial about World War II.) But, to really understand the French/German relationship one must certainly go back much farther in time. At the very least, one must throw into the mix Napoleon’s invasion and occupation of Germany, as well as the Franco-Prussian war.
I don’t really have the space here, nor the inclination or, most certainly, the expertise to discuss the complications of the relationship between these two fine countries and their wonderful people. But, a few morsels follow as food for thought.
We are staying in Baden-Baden, a town of 50,000 inhabitants, which lies 10 kilometers from the French border. It is a place of stunning beauty and incredible cultural richness. It is an international destination popular for its famous baths, for classical music year round, for its fine restaurants and hotels, and so much more. Tourists come from all over the world to experience this incredible place. So, do the French also cross the border to appreciate this wonderland in their backyard? Apparently, no. One hears very, very little French around town. Mais, pourquoi pas?
When I mentioned to Peter how nice everybody in France was to us, he said – “ah, but you are Americans.” Now – as I have already mentioned – Peter is the nicest person in the world. Thus, he wouldn’t say that with no reason. And, Peter lived in France for many years, worked for a French company, and his son went through the French school system and is, for all intents and purposes, French. Peter is not a knee-jerk anti-French person by any means. So, when he tells me that the reception can be hostile to Germans by some French people, I am inclined to believe there is some truth to it.
When we were discussing the relationship of the French and Germans with a delightful German friend of Peter’s, she told us that when she hears someone speaking French when she is in America (where she lives 4 months of the year), she switches to English as a defensive measure. Wow.
And, finally, I actually witnessed a troubling encounter between a young French woman and Peter. We were at a concert with table seating. The tables were very tightly packed together and one needed to cooperate with the neighboring tables to orchestrate it so everyone could get comfortable. This particular woman pushed her chair into Peter’s chair – and kept pushing. When he asked her to please move a bit so he had some room, she really let him have it. It was bizarre actually and, indeed, incredibly rude. (While this was happening on one side of the table, by contrast, I became fast friends with a man named Wolfgang when I stepped on his toes.) Peter turned to me and said – “so, is this the nice French people that you talk about?” Leslie and I contended that it had nothing to do with the fact that she was French and everything to do with the fact that she was a complete jerk. Peter good-naturally agreed. Nonetheless, would it had been different with me? Would her reception to me – an obvious American - have been much nicer and more accommodating? Je ne sais pas…..But, I do now wonder.
I don’t really have the space here, nor the inclination or, most certainly, the expertise to discuss the complications of the relationship between these two fine countries and their wonderful people. But, a few morsels follow as food for thought.
We are staying in Baden-Baden, a town of 50,000 inhabitants, which lies 10 kilometers from the French border. It is a place of stunning beauty and incredible cultural richness. It is an international destination popular for its famous baths, for classical music year round, for its fine restaurants and hotels, and so much more. Tourists come from all over the world to experience this incredible place. So, do the French also cross the border to appreciate this wonderland in their backyard? Apparently, no. One hears very, very little French around town. Mais, pourquoi pas?
When I mentioned to Peter how nice everybody in France was to us, he said – “ah, but you are Americans.” Now – as I have already mentioned – Peter is the nicest person in the world. Thus, he wouldn’t say that with no reason. And, Peter lived in France for many years, worked for a French company, and his son went through the French school system and is, for all intents and purposes, French. Peter is not a knee-jerk anti-French person by any means. So, when he tells me that the reception can be hostile to Germans by some French people, I am inclined to believe there is some truth to it.
When we were discussing the relationship of the French and Germans with a delightful German friend of Peter’s, she told us that when she hears someone speaking French when she is in America (where she lives 4 months of the year), she switches to English as a defensive measure. Wow.
And, finally, I actually witnessed a troubling encounter between a young French woman and Peter. We were at a concert with table seating. The tables were very tightly packed together and one needed to cooperate with the neighboring tables to orchestrate it so everyone could get comfortable. This particular woman pushed her chair into Peter’s chair – and kept pushing. When he asked her to please move a bit so he had some room, she really let him have it. It was bizarre actually and, indeed, incredibly rude. (While this was happening on one side of the table, by contrast, I became fast friends with a man named Wolfgang when I stepped on his toes.) Peter turned to me and said – “so, is this the nice French people that you talk about?” Leslie and I contended that it had nothing to do with the fact that she was French and everything to do with the fact that she was a complete jerk. Peter good-naturally agreed. Nonetheless, would it had been different with me? Would her reception to me – an obvious American - have been much nicer and more accommodating? Je ne sais pas…..But, I do now wonder.
So, are Germans nice like the French?
Written on August 7th (but I was away from the internet)
As mentioned earlier, this is my first time in Germany. We are here for three days in Baden-Baden visiting some friends we made via housetrading, Peter and Sabine. We followed Peter’s directions to his home in Baden-Baden. When we arrived, there was no obvious public parking, but some private parking that we pulled into temporarily to check the exact address. Within 10 seconds, we had our very first interaction with a German. A man from an apartment building balcony some distance away dramatically waggled his finger to us in the universal sign of “don’t do that”. We attempted some conversation with him to explain that our presence there was very temporary, but he was too far away to understand Leslie’s halting German. So, we retreated.
I didn’t think this was a good sign. I had been in France for four weeks and not one “don’t do that” came my way. Now, less than 10 seconds parked in Germany and I am already being corrected!
The above was going to be the end of my blog entry, but since then every other interaction with the people here has been marvelous. And, even extraordinary. I think I will wait for another blog entry to fully describe our fabulous German hosts. But, let me say for the record that I really doubt that nicer and more generous people can be found in the world than Peter and Sabine.
But, I do want to relate another tale that gives a good example of our welcome here. Peter and Sabine keep an extra apartment for family and friends that is only a few blocks from their house. It is a very comfortable flat on the fifth floor of the building (the sixth floor in American-speak). While there is an elevator, we always use the stairs. Today, I went out to buy some food when I realized I needed a little more money. I returned to the door and put the key in – but couldn’t get the lock to work. As I was fiddling, I heard Leslie approach from the other side of the door to open it for me. But, it wasn’t Leslie. It was another woman, – dressed in a white t-shirt – and nothing else (that I could see, that is). Obviously, I screwed up the floor. As I was searching my brain for my German from high school to explain and apologize, the woman exclaimed: “Hello! Are you the friends of Peter and Sabine?” I expected fear, shock or irritation that I was trying to enter her home– but instead she pulled me into her apartment as if we were long-lost friends and apologized for her clothes as she was in the process of cleaning. Let me re-emphasize - she was the one apologizing!! She mentioned that “if you were French, I wouldn’t have answered the door looking like this– but I know people from the United States are more casual and wouldn’t mind”. (She had a peep-hole, so presumably she looked through it and surmised who I was from my no-French-woman-would-be-caught-dead-in-it t-shirt.) And, by the way, she actually looked fabulous. She introduced herself (her name is Monica) and then proceeded to entertain me with stories of Peter and Sabine, showed me a lot of photos, gave me restaurant recommendations and so forth. By the end of this surprise encounter with Monica, I had invited her to visit us in the United States! And, I really hope she comes sometime, may I add.
So, bottom-line, Germans are nice, too.
As mentioned earlier, this is my first time in Germany. We are here for three days in Baden-Baden visiting some friends we made via housetrading, Peter and Sabine. We followed Peter’s directions to his home in Baden-Baden. When we arrived, there was no obvious public parking, but some private parking that we pulled into temporarily to check the exact address. Within 10 seconds, we had our very first interaction with a German. A man from an apartment building balcony some distance away dramatically waggled his finger to us in the universal sign of “don’t do that”. We attempted some conversation with him to explain that our presence there was very temporary, but he was too far away to understand Leslie’s halting German. So, we retreated.
I didn’t think this was a good sign. I had been in France for four weeks and not one “don’t do that” came my way. Now, less than 10 seconds parked in Germany and I am already being corrected!
The above was going to be the end of my blog entry, but since then every other interaction with the people here has been marvelous. And, even extraordinary. I think I will wait for another blog entry to fully describe our fabulous German hosts. But, let me say for the record that I really doubt that nicer and more generous people can be found in the world than Peter and Sabine.
But, I do want to relate another tale that gives a good example of our welcome here. Peter and Sabine keep an extra apartment for family and friends that is only a few blocks from their house. It is a very comfortable flat on the fifth floor of the building (the sixth floor in American-speak). While there is an elevator, we always use the stairs. Today, I went out to buy some food when I realized I needed a little more money. I returned to the door and put the key in – but couldn’t get the lock to work. As I was fiddling, I heard Leslie approach from the other side of the door to open it for me. But, it wasn’t Leslie. It was another woman, – dressed in a white t-shirt – and nothing else (that I could see, that is). Obviously, I screwed up the floor. As I was searching my brain for my German from high school to explain and apologize, the woman exclaimed: “Hello! Are you the friends of Peter and Sabine?” I expected fear, shock or irritation that I was trying to enter her home– but instead she pulled me into her apartment as if we were long-lost friends and apologized for her clothes as she was in the process of cleaning. Let me re-emphasize - she was the one apologizing!! She mentioned that “if you were French, I wouldn’t have answered the door looking like this– but I know people from the United States are more casual and wouldn’t mind”. (She had a peep-hole, so presumably she looked through it and surmised who I was from my no-French-woman-would-be-caught-dead-in-it t-shirt.) And, by the way, she actually looked fabulous. She introduced herself (her name is Monica) and then proceeded to entertain me with stories of Peter and Sabine, showed me a lot of photos, gave me restaurant recommendations and so forth. By the end of this surprise encounter with Monica, I had invited her to visit us in the United States! And, I really hope she comes sometime, may I add.
So, bottom-line, Germans are nice, too.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Twilight Zone
We left Paris and arrived at Nancy in eastern France on Friday. As is our habit and preference, we were trading houses – the couple was already in San Francisco and would be at our home in a couple of days. Francine – our trading partner – had come to Paris to give us our keys for the house and work out a few logistics.
I had googled the street we were at - “10 rue Guy Ropartz” – and had made a copy of our area of the town, copied the bus map from the Gare (train station) and was feeling on top of everything. It turned out that we didn’t even have to take the bus because our ridiculously nice friend, Judith, drove 1 ½ hours from her home to pick us up and drive us 1 mile! She (and her boyfriend, Pierre) dropped us at our lovely house in the burbs and, after a brief stay, went on their way.
And, then we entered the twilight zone.
I took my map and we walked around our neighborhood to get the lay of the land. And nothing was right. None of the streets corresponded to our map. There was no one around. Very little traffic. No stores were open (though it was a weekday and not that late.) Dorothy, I don’t think we are in Paris anymore! Do you remember that episode of the Twilight Zone where the guy was walking around the deserted town? Really, it felt like that. Very eerie.
The house was lovely, but yet somewhat strange. They left very little in the way of instructions and appliances are very different here. They had refinished the floors recently and it smelled of that. We couldn’t open the windows to air it out, though, as they were all stuck closed. We couldn’t get the lights to go off in the stairway and hall. We couldn’t get the CD or DVD or stove to go on. The toilet was running and when I tried to fix it – I broke off the float ball and water sprayed everywhere. I was able to turn off the angle stop (or, at least, the French version of it) so the water stopped but that was only a small consolation.
Did I mention that the internet (WiFi) that they promised wasn’t working and the car that they left for our use didn’t start?
They left a cat that came in and out of a very loud cat door at will, which was also jarring. And, the strangest thing of all to me was that – at 1:00 at night – kids started playing outdoors. It sounded just like an elementary school at recess. They were laughing and screaming and, well, it sounded just like an elementary school at recess. But they did this until 2:00 am. Now, we had just come from three weeks in the biggest city in France and we hardily ever heard a peep after 10:00 pm. This was very, very strange indeed.
At this point, I was absolutely convinced that I had entered another dimension.
All of the above is true, but the order of our particular problems is a bit fictionalized. We did get the internet working fairly readily after an initial frustrating period. With a little internet sleuthing, I found out that the address I googled was for “Nancy, France” but our house is actually in “Villers-le-Nancy, France” which is a suburb of Nancy. Who knew? Both, in turned out, had a “10 rue de Guy Ropartz”. I guess he was a real important guy. Thus – if our extremely nice friend, Judith, had not driven 1 ½ hours to drive us a mile, we would have taken a bus to the wrong house and had a real nightmare of our hands. So, as usual, we were really lucky. Again, thanks Judith!!
As for the house…. After a lot of pulling – we did get the windows open so we could breath. And, after waking to the kids screaming in the middle of the night, I was a bit agitated so I got up and fixed the toilet and solved the light problem. After all, dammit, I was a maintenance person and an electrician in my past. We figured out how to turn on the stove. We decided to just play CDs and DVDs on the computer. I learned how to start the car.
And, as for the silent, eerie town with everything closed? Well, it is France and August – and, well, they take the month off! Not everybody and not the full month. But, lots of stores close for 2 or 3 weeks and most people go on a vacation in late July or early August. So, it is rather empty. And, the places we walked around just happened to be full of closed stores and people on vacation – like our trading partners.
So the bottom-line now – we are well settled in our town and home and everything is just fine. It is not the twilight zone. But, the first day was a little sketchy. Sometimes, one does really feel foreign in a foreign country.
I had googled the street we were at - “10 rue Guy Ropartz” – and had made a copy of our area of the town, copied the bus map from the Gare (train station) and was feeling on top of everything. It turned out that we didn’t even have to take the bus because our ridiculously nice friend, Judith, drove 1 ½ hours from her home to pick us up and drive us 1 mile! She (and her boyfriend, Pierre) dropped us at our lovely house in the burbs and, after a brief stay, went on their way.
And, then we entered the twilight zone.
I took my map and we walked around our neighborhood to get the lay of the land. And nothing was right. None of the streets corresponded to our map. There was no one around. Very little traffic. No stores were open (though it was a weekday and not that late.) Dorothy, I don’t think we are in Paris anymore! Do you remember that episode of the Twilight Zone where the guy was walking around the deserted town? Really, it felt like that. Very eerie.
The house was lovely, but yet somewhat strange. They left very little in the way of instructions and appliances are very different here. They had refinished the floors recently and it smelled of that. We couldn’t open the windows to air it out, though, as they were all stuck closed. We couldn’t get the lights to go off in the stairway and hall. We couldn’t get the CD or DVD or stove to go on. The toilet was running and when I tried to fix it – I broke off the float ball and water sprayed everywhere. I was able to turn off the angle stop (or, at least, the French version of it) so the water stopped but that was only a small consolation.
Did I mention that the internet (WiFi) that they promised wasn’t working and the car that they left for our use didn’t start?
They left a cat that came in and out of a very loud cat door at will, which was also jarring. And, the strangest thing of all to me was that – at 1:00 at night – kids started playing outdoors. It sounded just like an elementary school at recess. They were laughing and screaming and, well, it sounded just like an elementary school at recess. But they did this until 2:00 am. Now, we had just come from three weeks in the biggest city in France and we hardily ever heard a peep after 10:00 pm. This was very, very strange indeed.
At this point, I was absolutely convinced that I had entered another dimension.
All of the above is true, but the order of our particular problems is a bit fictionalized. We did get the internet working fairly readily after an initial frustrating period. With a little internet sleuthing, I found out that the address I googled was for “Nancy, France” but our house is actually in “Villers-le-Nancy, France” which is a suburb of Nancy. Who knew? Both, in turned out, had a “10 rue de Guy Ropartz”. I guess he was a real important guy. Thus – if our extremely nice friend, Judith, had not driven 1 ½ hours to drive us a mile, we would have taken a bus to the wrong house and had a real nightmare of our hands. So, as usual, we were really lucky. Again, thanks Judith!!
As for the house…. After a lot of pulling – we did get the windows open so we could breath. And, after waking to the kids screaming in the middle of the night, I was a bit agitated so I got up and fixed the toilet and solved the light problem. After all, dammit, I was a maintenance person and an electrician in my past. We figured out how to turn on the stove. We decided to just play CDs and DVDs on the computer. I learned how to start the car.
And, as for the silent, eerie town with everything closed? Well, it is France and August – and, well, they take the month off! Not everybody and not the full month. But, lots of stores close for 2 or 3 weeks and most people go on a vacation in late July or early August. So, it is rather empty. And, the places we walked around just happened to be full of closed stores and people on vacation – like our trading partners.
So the bottom-line now – we are well settled in our town and home and everything is just fine. It is not the twilight zone. But, the first day was a little sketchy. Sometimes, one does really feel foreign in a foreign country.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Someone rude in France!
Yes, I finally found a rude person! She works at Shakespeare's bookstore in Paris (a famous English-language bookstore) and I and Leslie both found her to be snide and unfriendly and minimally helpful. She is, of course, not French - but from some English-speaking country. Perhaps Britain, perhaps Australia. But, not France. So, there it is - there is a rude person in Paris. Voilà! But, all the actual French people continue to be très, très gentil....
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Des vidéos très amusante
To return to the French language.... I wanted to give links to my favorite videos for French language-learners via youtube. The first few both have the theme of the problem of actually communicating in French after only a little study.
First, there is the youtube French take-off of the “One Semester of Spanish Love-Song”. The original has been viewed (as of July 28, 2008) 3,138,155 times. It is here:
http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=ngRq82c8Baw&feature=related
I think the French take-off is even better, though with a smaller following....
http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=s8a2jlx6OG0&feature=Responses&parent_video=ngRq82c8Baw&index=12
I don’t believe that it is anything but a coincidence that my next recommended learning-French video also has a transvestite theme. But, hey, it is Eddy Izzard and that is just who the guy is…His discussion of using français simple est très amusant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1sQkEfAdfY
And, then, the last is a poignant and sad but also very funny and sweet short film. It is the final segment from the movie Paris, Je T’aime:
http://www.boreme.com/boreme/funny-2007/paris-je-taime-14th-arrondissement-p1.php
May I say that it is clear that two semesters of French are all you need to navigate Paris. I have bought train tickets, stamps, food, maps, newspapers, bread, meals in a restaurant, drinks in a café and asked important questions such as the always useful “Où sont les toilettes, s’il vous plait?” with no problems. And, I am proud to say, not one of those times have these folks tried to switch to English with me. All transactions have occurred completely - and successfully - in French and, as always, everyone was quite nice. To this, I want to say a very emphatic VOILÀ!
But, I sure can’t converse in French if subtlety, nuance, depth or wit are required. Oh, by the way, I am pretty sure that if you look you will find that le chat est sur la chaise et le singe est sur la branche. Adiós!
First, there is the youtube French take-off of the “One Semester of Spanish Love-Song”. The original has been viewed (as of July 28, 2008) 3,138,155 times. It is here:
http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=ngRq82c8Baw&feature=related
I think the French take-off is even better, though with a smaller following....
http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=s8a2jlx6OG0&feature=Responses&parent_video=ngRq82c8Baw&index=12
I don’t believe that it is anything but a coincidence that my next recommended learning-French video also has a transvestite theme. But, hey, it is Eddy Izzard and that is just who the guy is…His discussion of using français simple est très amusant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1sQkEfAdfY
And, then, the last is a poignant and sad but also very funny and sweet short film. It is the final segment from the movie Paris, Je T’aime:
http://www.boreme.com/boreme/funny-2007/paris-je-taime-14th-arrondissement-p1.php
May I say that it is clear that two semesters of French are all you need to navigate Paris. I have bought train tickets, stamps, food, maps, newspapers, bread, meals in a restaurant, drinks in a café and asked important questions such as the always useful “Où sont les toilettes, s’il vous plait?” with no problems. And, I am proud to say, not one of those times have these folks tried to switch to English with me. All transactions have occurred completely - and successfully - in French and, as always, everyone was quite nice. To this, I want to say a very emphatic VOILÀ!
But, I sure can’t converse in French if subtlety, nuance, depth or wit are required. Oh, by the way, I am pretty sure that if you look you will find that le chat est sur la chaise et le singe est sur la branche. Adiós!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Where are the window screens?
I have discovered the singular worst thing about France. They don't have window screens! Maybe somewhere - but not in this neighborhood. But, they do have mosquitos. Thus, every night is a damn battle with the mosquitos buzzing around our heads. We are all getting bit at an alarming rate but it is too warm to not open the windows. So, if you are planning to visit, you might want to pack your mosquito netting...
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Political gossip - Edwards fall?
While I often obsess here about the French language and my very poor attempts to speak it, I can’t really get up the energy to write about it. Perhaps because it has been a huge struggle for me. It isn’t that fun to talk about my semi-failures. Perhaps later in the trip I will gain some energy to tackle it.
But, today I am obsessed by something else. I have decided to throw my hat in the ring, as it were, as a political/news journalism blogger. I have been tracking, of course, Obama’s and McCain’s campaigns – both reading French sources such as Le Monde, Le Figaro and Liberation – and reading American sources such as NY Times, Dailykos, Slate, New Republic and Huffington Post. (As an aside, I might not be able to speak French – but I have no problem reading their newspapers now.)
But, in doing this reading I ran into the existing Internet storm - which I firmly believe will soon be a mainstream media storm - on John Edward’s alleged on-going affair and paternity of an infant with a woman named Rielle Hunter. (As on the internet, I will call the mainstream media MSM) Now, I found out via the Internet that the rumors about this affair have existed since September of 2007. What got the ball rolling was, I believe, this article in the Huffington Post by Sam Stein: He wasn’t looking for an affair, a cover-up or anything of the sort – but he seemed to stumble onto something, nonetheless.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2007/09/26/edwards-mystery-innocuou_n_66070.html
The National Enquirer, then, decided to follow the thread to see if there was some hanky-panky behind the story. They have published various accusations - with lots of smoke but no gun - about this alleged affair and his paternity but no MSM source picked it up – most likely because another married man, Andrew Young (a good friend of Edwards) has claimed paternity. But, the Enquirer kept on the case and certainly strengthened their case this week. The MSM – albeit just Fox – added confirmation. The comically sad story is here:
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,391426,00.html
Right wing Internet sources have, of course, jumped on the story. Beyond the Huffington Post, the left-wing sources have stayed pretty quiet. To the degree that it has been discussed within the left, there are eight basic reactions (with my take following in blue):
1. Enquirer and Fox. Totally unreliable sources. Maybe, maybe not. This will become clear over the next few days. But, if you look at all the evidence out there, it really has the ring of truth. At this point, I would be willing to put $100 down that the basic story is true – that he was visiting her in LA at that hotel. But, could there be an innocent explanation? Sure. Maybe they are just really good friends....
2. He is no longer a candidate, so whether it is true or not is irrelevant and he should be left alone. Come on, he is on the list of VP candidates and is certainly also in line for a potential cabinet post – so that response is lame.
3. Who cares if it true or not. There are really important things out there. Stop with this sex- stuff already. Let’s be more like the French and let our politicians have mistresses if they want! On the one hand, I couldn’t agree more. And, indeed if we were like the French, I would be shrugging along with everyone else. But, we are not.
4. If it is true, he isn’t going to get the VP nod or a post in the administration. Yep, that is true. And, at this point – I certainly don’t want Obama to appoint him to anything unless, of course, the story is shown to be crap or an innocent explanation is really there.
5. If true, it is so sad for Elizabeth. Yep. It sucks to be in the public eye sometimes.
6. If it is true, it does, in fact, raise some big and legitimate character questions about Edwards and it is a legitimate story, not just gossip. This is strongly my point of view.
7. If it is true, how stupid can you get? Could he not learn from Gary Hart, Bill Clinton and Elliot Spitzer – to name just a few? Apparently, no.
8. Karl Rove is behind this. Oh, come on. He isn't that all-powerful. And, he would have certainly waited until Edwards was actually appointed to something to spring it.
The right-wingers all claim that the story isn’t being followed because of some left bias of the MSM. But, to me that is nonsense. When the press was hounding Clinton over Gennifer Flowers, they refused to really investigate the story of “the other Jennifer” – the alleged lover of Bush the 1st, Jennifer Fitzgerald.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jennifer_Fitzgerald
And, the press absolutely gave Bush the 2nd a free pass on cocaine:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-seery/the-bush-cocaine-chronicl_b_37786.html
In those cases - as this one - I think the principal reason is a convulted combination of cowardice with conviction. But now, thanks to the Internet – it isn’t so easy to sweep things under the rug, for good or ill. And, I must admit that I prefer it this way.
This particular story is at the tipping point. Once the Enquirer publishes their photos (and if they don’t have photos – then the story is surely not true), I believe the MSM will be forced to jump on the story or it will really accelerate the MSM death spiral. And, yes – I feel sorry for John a bit. And Elizabeth a lot. But, in this case, I would rather know the truth. So, I say thank you Sam Stein, National Enquirer and Fox. I am not sure that the truth will set us free – but it might have helped Obama avoid a big fall….
Update Sunday: To the list of leftist reactions may I add that this one has gained some traction: Hillary is behind it (because a supporter of hers owns a big chuck of the Enquirer). To this, I can only say - oh, give me a break!
But, today I am obsessed by something else. I have decided to throw my hat in the ring, as it were, as a political/news journalism blogger. I have been tracking, of course, Obama’s and McCain’s campaigns – both reading French sources such as Le Monde, Le Figaro and Liberation – and reading American sources such as NY Times, Dailykos, Slate, New Republic and Huffington Post. (As an aside, I might not be able to speak French – but I have no problem reading their newspapers now.)
But, in doing this reading I ran into the existing Internet storm - which I firmly believe will soon be a mainstream media storm - on John Edward’s alleged on-going affair and paternity of an infant with a woman named Rielle Hunter. (As on the internet, I will call the mainstream media MSM) Now, I found out via the Internet that the rumors about this affair have existed since September of 2007. What got the ball rolling was, I believe, this article in the Huffington Post by Sam Stein: He wasn’t looking for an affair, a cover-up or anything of the sort – but he seemed to stumble onto something, nonetheless.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2007/09/26/edwards-mystery-innocuou_n_66070.html
The National Enquirer, then, decided to follow the thread to see if there was some hanky-panky behind the story. They have published various accusations - with lots of smoke but no gun - about this alleged affair and his paternity but no MSM source picked it up – most likely because another married man, Andrew Young (a good friend of Edwards) has claimed paternity. But, the Enquirer kept on the case and certainly strengthened their case this week. The MSM – albeit just Fox – added confirmation. The comically sad story is here:
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,391426,00.html
Right wing Internet sources have, of course, jumped on the story. Beyond the Huffington Post, the left-wing sources have stayed pretty quiet. To the degree that it has been discussed within the left, there are eight basic reactions (with my take following in blue):
1. Enquirer and Fox. Totally unreliable sources. Maybe, maybe not. This will become clear over the next few days. But, if you look at all the evidence out there, it really has the ring of truth. At this point, I would be willing to put $100 down that the basic story is true – that he was visiting her in LA at that hotel. But, could there be an innocent explanation? Sure. Maybe they are just really good friends....
2. He is no longer a candidate, so whether it is true or not is irrelevant and he should be left alone. Come on, he is on the list of VP candidates and is certainly also in line for a potential cabinet post – so that response is lame.
3. Who cares if it true or not. There are really important things out there. Stop with this sex- stuff already. Let’s be more like the French and let our politicians have mistresses if they want! On the one hand, I couldn’t agree more. And, indeed if we were like the French, I would be shrugging along with everyone else. But, we are not.
4. If it is true, he isn’t going to get the VP nod or a post in the administration. Yep, that is true. And, at this point – I certainly don’t want Obama to appoint him to anything unless, of course, the story is shown to be crap or an innocent explanation is really there.
5. If true, it is so sad for Elizabeth. Yep. It sucks to be in the public eye sometimes.
6. If it is true, it does, in fact, raise some big and legitimate character questions about Edwards and it is a legitimate story, not just gossip. This is strongly my point of view.
7. If it is true, how stupid can you get? Could he not learn from Gary Hart, Bill Clinton and Elliot Spitzer – to name just a few? Apparently, no.
8. Karl Rove is behind this. Oh, come on. He isn't that all-powerful. And, he would have certainly waited until Edwards was actually appointed to something to spring it.
The right-wingers all claim that the story isn’t being followed because of some left bias of the MSM. But, to me that is nonsense. When the press was hounding Clinton over Gennifer Flowers, they refused to really investigate the story of “the other Jennifer” – the alleged lover of Bush the 1st, Jennifer Fitzgerald.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jennifer_Fitzgerald
And, the press absolutely gave Bush the 2nd a free pass on cocaine:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-seery/the-bush-cocaine-chronicl_b_37786.html
In those cases - as this one - I think the principal reason is a convulted combination of cowardice with conviction. But now, thanks to the Internet – it isn’t so easy to sweep things under the rug, for good or ill. And, I must admit that I prefer it this way.
This particular story is at the tipping point. Once the Enquirer publishes their photos (and if they don’t have photos – then the story is surely not true), I believe the MSM will be forced to jump on the story or it will really accelerate the MSM death spiral. And, yes – I feel sorry for John a bit. And Elizabeth a lot. But, in this case, I would rather know the truth. So, I say thank you Sam Stein, National Enquirer and Fox. I am not sure that the truth will set us free – but it might have helped Obama avoid a big fall….
Update Sunday: To the list of leftist reactions may I add that this one has gained some traction: Hillary is behind it (because a supporter of hers owns a big chuck of the Enquirer). To this, I can only say - oh, give me a break!
Monday, July 21, 2008
More french kissing now!
At the beginning of this blog, I gave some history of my earlier trips in France and my impression. As I have a bit of a binary mind, I wrote lists of things “good” or “bad” that I found in France. However, one thing I just noted without judgment, which I requote now:
“And, neither a pro or a con but something I noticed: people make out here a lot.”
Ok, the observation holds. People do make out here a lot more than in America. And, when it happens, it isn’t only restricted to the young. For instance, one day I was walking along following a couple around my age, who were holding hands. All of a sudden, they stopped walking and started a deep, slow kiss in the middle of the sidewalk. Now, I have just never seen this in America. But, I would like to say that I have formed a judgment, which is: It’s great! Americans – particularly past their 20s – have a distaste for the PDA (public display of affection). Mais, pourquoi? It is so sweet and passionate and life-affirming. Thus, I say, more French kissing in America now!
“And, neither a pro or a con but something I noticed: people make out here a lot.”
Ok, the observation holds. People do make out here a lot more than in America. And, when it happens, it isn’t only restricted to the young. For instance, one day I was walking along following a couple around my age, who were holding hands. All of a sudden, they stopped walking and started a deep, slow kiss in the middle of the sidewalk. Now, I have just never seen this in America. But, I would like to say that I have formed a judgment, which is: It’s great! Americans – particularly past their 20s – have a distaste for the PDA (public display of affection). Mais, pourquoi? It is so sweet and passionate and life-affirming. Thus, I say, more French kissing in America now!
Friday, July 18, 2008
The French reputation is just wrong
Every time I come to France, I am always struck by the huge gulf between the reputation of the French and my reception here. As I said in an earlier blog, French people are nice – really nice. Not rude, not snobby, not reluctant to help – but, in fact, the very opposite. Very polite, very down to earth and very, very willing to help you if you have a problem. The first person we met (outside of airport or train personnel who were – yes – nice) was a very gallant man of around 80. We just arrived from the airport and were in the lobby of our apartment building looking confused. He immediately offered assistance and advice and, then, asked us to come back to tea soon. Wasn’t that swell? (Tea is planned for today at 5:00 pm.) And so it has continued. I am sure there are rude French folks somewhere out their lurking but I just wanted to say, again, and for the record – I love France and the French, Paris and Parisiens.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Why Leslie's IQ is 14 points higher than mine
I now believe that one will become smarter if one learns more than one language, particularly when young. That became very clear to me after I started to learn French. It aroused something in me that is rare pour moi: curiosity. Now, Leslie is a very, very curious person. She always wants to know everything. And, she is smarter than me – by 14 IQ points as a matter of fact. I, on the other hand, am rarely curious, but learn things easily when I must. Par exemple, before I became a maintenance person I had no interest whatsoever in how a toilet worked, or a refrigerator, or how a window was put together, or anything of that nature. I could not have cared less. But, I had to learn these things to do my job well and, as I taught myself how to fix things, it was always interesting. But, still, my curiosity, en général, n’existait pas.
(Of course, many think the IQ test to be suspect. Be that as it may, it is clear to me that for my economic class, my race and my country, – it is a fairly accurate representation of ability with regard to pattern recognition. When I took the test when I was young I got the exact same score I get now. It has never budged one damn point!)
To me it is now a chicken and egg question: Is Leslie smarter because she learned languages young and, thus, became curious (which led to better pattern recognition)? Or, did she love languages because she had a natural ability for pattern recognition, and learning languages is particularly rewarding for someone who likes that sort of thing? Je ne sais pas. But, I swear, I am getting smarter!
Ok, par exemple, the phrase faux pas. I grew up with the expression and certainly knew at some point that it came from the French and what it meant in English (and assumed it meant the same thing in French) – a blunder, generally social. Of course, I had picked up a few French phrases like the one in the last paragraph: Je ne sais pas. I understood that to mean: “I don’t know”. Pas seemed to mean “not” – though I had no idea what the "ne" was and, as usual, didn’t care. If you had asked me what I thought faux pas meant literally in French I would have thought it meant something like “must not”. But, in America, we also use faux (i.e. faux fur), and I did understand that to be “false”. So, a literal interpretation in English, had I ever thought about it which I certainly did not, would have been “false not”. That doesn’t make a lot of sense but, perhaps it meant “one must not be false socially”. But, recently, I had a new clue without paying much attention to it. I started attending the ballet where they had this thing called pas de deux. Now, any curious person would have realized that the phrase made no sense if pas meant only “not” as I then assumed. Perhaps a curious person would have looked in a dictionary or asked someone or read the program. Though, I admit I did wonder why there were two dancers when the movement name seemed clearly to announce “not of two”. But I was not curious enough to check. Plus, my combination of decent pattern recognition along with lack of curiosity pointed me to the obvious answer: the point must be that they were lovers, joined as one! All the pas de deux I had seen were lovers, after all. Yes, that must be it……
Not.
Turns out pas also means step. Who knew? (Any French speaking, curious or cultured person, of course!) Thus, faux pas literally means false step. And, of course, romantic as my conception of what pas de deux meant, it obviously really meant “step of two”. Merde! Je suis stupide.
And, it further turns out that faux pas doesn’t have the same connotation in France. It is, more of less, a literal phrase there. So, how did this literal phrase in France turn into this figurative phrase in English? I was very curious! (OK, this essay has now come full circle; please reread the first paragraph if you forget where I was heading.) It was the English who turned it into the meaning of “social blunder” and – now that I have more curiosity due to my study of the French language - I also have a non-confirmed theory of how this came to be.
Through dressage competition. (For those who are not horsey at all dressage is, to quote one on-line dictionary definition, “the guiding of a horse through a series of complex maneuvers by slight movements of the rider's hands, legs, and weight.”) I have little idea the full history of dressage but I do know the words that describe the movements in the sport are French. And, after watching a dressage competition in which there were beaucoup de faux pas, I spun out this theory.
In a nutshell, I think that English folks who made a faux pas in dressage competition began to associate the phrase with a blunder in general and then started using it for a social blunder. As the phrase moved to the general masses who didn’t speak French, – the literal meaning was lost and only the blunder portion remained. Perhaps my theory is as fanciful as my romantic conception of pas de deux but it makes sense to me. Now, Leslie thinks it may have equally come out of ballet. Perhaps – though ballet dancers make far less faux pas than riders with their horses. But, then, as everyone reading this knows, Leslie is smarter than me so she is probably right.
Anyway, the point of this whole thing is actually that I became – and remain – curious about this. And, so it goes with hundreds of other French words and phrases. All of a sudden, as I learn French, I can feel my brain making connections at this torrential pace. I am thinking I might, finally, gain a point or two the next time I take an IQ test. Oh, and if you happen to know how faux pas really gained it’s English meaning, please tell me. I am very curious.
(Of course, many think the IQ test to be suspect. Be that as it may, it is clear to me that for my economic class, my race and my country, – it is a fairly accurate representation of ability with regard to pattern recognition. When I took the test when I was young I got the exact same score I get now. It has never budged one damn point!)
To me it is now a chicken and egg question: Is Leslie smarter because she learned languages young and, thus, became curious (which led to better pattern recognition)? Or, did she love languages because she had a natural ability for pattern recognition, and learning languages is particularly rewarding for someone who likes that sort of thing? Je ne sais pas. But, I swear, I am getting smarter!
Ok, par exemple, the phrase faux pas. I grew up with the expression and certainly knew at some point that it came from the French and what it meant in English (and assumed it meant the same thing in French) – a blunder, generally social. Of course, I had picked up a few French phrases like the one in the last paragraph: Je ne sais pas. I understood that to mean: “I don’t know”. Pas seemed to mean “not” – though I had no idea what the "ne" was and, as usual, didn’t care. If you had asked me what I thought faux pas meant literally in French I would have thought it meant something like “must not”. But, in America, we also use faux (i.e. faux fur), and I did understand that to be “false”. So, a literal interpretation in English, had I ever thought about it which I certainly did not, would have been “false not”. That doesn’t make a lot of sense but, perhaps it meant “one must not be false socially”. But, recently, I had a new clue without paying much attention to it. I started attending the ballet where they had this thing called pas de deux. Now, any curious person would have realized that the phrase made no sense if pas meant only “not” as I then assumed. Perhaps a curious person would have looked in a dictionary or asked someone or read the program. Though, I admit I did wonder why there were two dancers when the movement name seemed clearly to announce “not of two”. But I was not curious enough to check. Plus, my combination of decent pattern recognition along with lack of curiosity pointed me to the obvious answer: the point must be that they were lovers, joined as one! All the pas de deux I had seen were lovers, after all. Yes, that must be it……
Not.
Turns out pas also means step. Who knew? (Any French speaking, curious or cultured person, of course!) Thus, faux pas literally means false step. And, of course, romantic as my conception of what pas de deux meant, it obviously really meant “step of two”. Merde! Je suis stupide.
And, it further turns out that faux pas doesn’t have the same connotation in France. It is, more of less, a literal phrase there. So, how did this literal phrase in France turn into this figurative phrase in English? I was very curious! (OK, this essay has now come full circle; please reread the first paragraph if you forget where I was heading.) It was the English who turned it into the meaning of “social blunder” and – now that I have more curiosity due to my study of the French language - I also have a non-confirmed theory of how this came to be.
Through dressage competition. (For those who are not horsey at all dressage is, to quote one on-line dictionary definition, “the guiding of a horse through a series of complex maneuvers by slight movements of the rider's hands, legs, and weight.”) I have little idea the full history of dressage but I do know the words that describe the movements in the sport are French. And, after watching a dressage competition in which there were beaucoup de faux pas, I spun out this theory.
In a nutshell, I think that English folks who made a faux pas in dressage competition began to associate the phrase with a blunder in general and then started using it for a social blunder. As the phrase moved to the general masses who didn’t speak French, – the literal meaning was lost and only the blunder portion remained. Perhaps my theory is as fanciful as my romantic conception of pas de deux but it makes sense to me. Now, Leslie thinks it may have equally come out of ballet. Perhaps – though ballet dancers make far less faux pas than riders with their horses. But, then, as everyone reading this knows, Leslie is smarter than me so she is probably right.
Anyway, the point of this whole thing is actually that I became – and remain – curious about this. And, so it goes with hundreds of other French words and phrases. All of a sudden, as I learn French, I can feel my brain making connections at this torrential pace. I am thinking I might, finally, gain a point or two the next time I take an IQ test. Oh, and if you happen to know how faux pas really gained it’s English meaning, please tell me. I am very curious.
Statistics in French: as good as a massage
I must say for the record that the best experience listening to French thus far was when Judith explained medical statistics to me. At my request and in great detail, she went through her statistics outline for the day. Since the words were in front of me as she went through the outline, I was able to listen to her and read the French at the same time. This vastly improved my comprehension. The fact that I had taken statistics in college and understand the field fairly well was also helpful. I found it very relaxing – almost like a massage - and was “in the flow” of français for that period of time. Perhaps surprisingly, it has been my favorite experience in France. Merci, Judith. Je veux le faire plus.
For Yami, a photo
My friend, Yamindira, upon being given the link to this blog wrote: pictures are more interesting than a blog.... So, here is a damn picture.
Turns out, I'm boring....
I am a bit en retard in actually writing this blog in France. Je suis desolée. The problem is that I was waiting for some insights on the issue of speaking a newly studied language in the place where it is the native tongue. But, no insights were coming. But, finally – they have arrived. Here is my first key insight: if you try to speak a simple version of the language – as I am - one is very, very boring for your companions. Of course, this is quite logical and – from my practice at home – I knew this already to be the case. But, my original plan was to “speak French all the time”. I could do it but if I did, two things would follow: I would have little fun and my companions would have less fun.
I have trois amies on this trip. First, there is my partner (of the domestic variety), Leslie. She speaks French well but certainly is not yet a master of the language. Next is Laura – Leslie’s sister and mon professeur de français for two quarters – who is, of course, fluent. And, last, there is Judith, a 19-year-old native French speaker. What a perfect traveling trio for a new “language learner”, n’est-ce pas? All three of them have their own particular vested interest in my acquisition of the language and cheer on my attempts but there is a singular word to describe their reaction to my attempts: indulgent. They all seemed so relieved when I abandoned my attempt to “speak French all the time” that I got the message pretty clearly: You are a bore in French and we have our own (damn) agenda here, thank you very much. Most certainly, I exaggerate here. In particular, I can hear Judith’s protests to this declaration ringing in my ears though she is currently asleep. And Laura, mon professeur, has been nothing but patient and kind at all times. But, she is en vacances now and certainly has no interest in being a full-time tutor. And, pauvre Leslie has already put up with my learning angst far more than anyone and has been indulging me non-stop since September when I began this quest.
And the fact is, I too find myself boring when I am speaking French. I will begin a sentence that seemed important when I started but by the time I turn the corner of the sentence with the que, I have lost all interest. The point wasn’t very interesting. Then it dawned on me that the point wouldn’t have been particularly interesting in English either. But, I would have said it quickly, at least. Nonetheless, the truth was out there: I often say boring things in English, too.
So, I came to France to better learn the language and instead I found out that I am boring. Purée!
I have trois amies on this trip. First, there is my partner (of the domestic variety), Leslie. She speaks French well but certainly is not yet a master of the language. Next is Laura – Leslie’s sister and mon professeur de français for two quarters – who is, of course, fluent. And, last, there is Judith, a 19-year-old native French speaker. What a perfect traveling trio for a new “language learner”, n’est-ce pas? All three of them have their own particular vested interest in my acquisition of the language and cheer on my attempts but there is a singular word to describe their reaction to my attempts: indulgent. They all seemed so relieved when I abandoned my attempt to “speak French all the time” that I got the message pretty clearly: You are a bore in French and we have our own (damn) agenda here, thank you very much. Most certainly, I exaggerate here. In particular, I can hear Judith’s protests to this declaration ringing in my ears though she is currently asleep. And Laura, mon professeur, has been nothing but patient and kind at all times. But, she is en vacances now and certainly has no interest in being a full-time tutor. And, pauvre Leslie has already put up with my learning angst far more than anyone and has been indulging me non-stop since September when I began this quest.
And the fact is, I too find myself boring when I am speaking French. I will begin a sentence that seemed important when I started but by the time I turn the corner of the sentence with the que, I have lost all interest. The point wasn’t very interesting. Then it dawned on me that the point wouldn’t have been particularly interesting in English either. But, I would have said it quickly, at least. Nonetheless, the truth was out there: I often say boring things in English, too.
So, I came to France to better learn the language and instead I found out that I am boring. Purée!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Bonne chance!
A great pre-start to the trip!! Fantastic luck.
But first, a little necessary background information. We are trading houses with two families in France. One family has a house in Paris, the other in the city of Nancy in the Lorraine region. After we return from our six-week trip to France, we then turn around three weeks later for four months in Hawaii. When we are in Hawaii, we are renting our house to another family. Therefore, I had been working like a madwoman for about three months getting our home ready for all these strangers who will be living at our home, winterizing it in the summer. The fence was falling down, the deck was falling in, the water heater and washing machine were leaking, and the oven wasn’t working at all and on and on. I had planned on fixing all these things right after retirement in early 07 but, as most my friends know, I worked on Obama’s campaign instead. Thus, I had to cram in a year of planned house work in three months. But, I was determined to leave our home trouble-free for the families who would be living there.
On our final day, as we were powering through our final lists with only a few hours to go, a wonderful thing happened: a pipe got badly clogged! I have never been so happy for such a thing in my life. If it happened 24 hours later, the poor, jet-lagged French family would have to deal with it alone. They would have called Ian (who agreed to be the “maintenance guy” while I was gone), but it wouldn’t have be fun for him. And, yes, we would have to pay money to fix it. Instead, I happily snaked the drain! Voilà – problem solved and minor tragedy averted.
Then came even more luck! I went to put some chlorine in our spa. Our deck is surrounded by a raised deck – with a portion that is moveable in order to access the spa controls. I stepped on that portion and it – and I – immediately fell to the ground! I wasn’t hurt in the least. Basically, I had not put the piece on correctly the last time I moved it (for putting on deck finish). My first thought was, of course, “this is my lucky day.” If I had decided to change the chlorine from the other side, I wouldn’t have “found” the problem and one of the French people (the 8 year old perhaps) would have. And, the results could have been bad or, even, tragic. What relief!
And, they say that things come in threes (and exactly who are these mysterious folks, they?). I think they are probably wrong about that statement and I am sure some smart mathematician has proven it. But, they do say it and, in this case, maybe it is true. The very delightful French family arrived. We showed them around and, knowing how tired they must be and how much they must want us to disappear, we left to go to my parents house to drop off our dog. Our flight was in the early morning. We were approaching the Highway 17 summit when Leslie said: “Damn it, I forgot my contact lenses!” She is nearly blind without them. I said, let’s just go back and get them. And, so, we did. We felt bad that we had to disturb the French folks. So, where is the luck? That we actually had the time to do it! Normally, when we leave for a trip – we are going to the airport or, perhaps, to Doug and Laura’s to drop the dog. While, we like to leave ample time, not the kind of time required for a summit round-trip. But, today – everything was going our way!
But first, a little necessary background information. We are trading houses with two families in France. One family has a house in Paris, the other in the city of Nancy in the Lorraine region. After we return from our six-week trip to France, we then turn around three weeks later for four months in Hawaii. When we are in Hawaii, we are renting our house to another family. Therefore, I had been working like a madwoman for about three months getting our home ready for all these strangers who will be living at our home, winterizing it in the summer. The fence was falling down, the deck was falling in, the water heater and washing machine were leaking, and the oven wasn’t working at all and on and on. I had planned on fixing all these things right after retirement in early 07 but, as most my friends know, I worked on Obama’s campaign instead. Thus, I had to cram in a year of planned house work in three months. But, I was determined to leave our home trouble-free for the families who would be living there.
On our final day, as we were powering through our final lists with only a few hours to go, a wonderful thing happened: a pipe got badly clogged! I have never been so happy for such a thing in my life. If it happened 24 hours later, the poor, jet-lagged French family would have to deal with it alone. They would have called Ian (who agreed to be the “maintenance guy” while I was gone), but it wouldn’t have be fun for him. And, yes, we would have to pay money to fix it. Instead, I happily snaked the drain! Voilà – problem solved and minor tragedy averted.
Then came even more luck! I went to put some chlorine in our spa. Our deck is surrounded by a raised deck – with a portion that is moveable in order to access the spa controls. I stepped on that portion and it – and I – immediately fell to the ground! I wasn’t hurt in the least. Basically, I had not put the piece on correctly the last time I moved it (for putting on deck finish). My first thought was, of course, “this is my lucky day.” If I had decided to change the chlorine from the other side, I wouldn’t have “found” the problem and one of the French people (the 8 year old perhaps) would have. And, the results could have been bad or, even, tragic. What relief!
And, they say that things come in threes (and exactly who are these mysterious folks, they?). I think they are probably wrong about that statement and I am sure some smart mathematician has proven it. But, they do say it and, in this case, maybe it is true. The very delightful French family arrived. We showed them around and, knowing how tired they must be and how much they must want us to disappear, we left to go to my parents house to drop off our dog. Our flight was in the early morning. We were approaching the Highway 17 summit when Leslie said: “Damn it, I forgot my contact lenses!” She is nearly blind without them. I said, let’s just go back and get them. And, so, we did. We felt bad that we had to disturb the French folks. So, where is the luck? That we actually had the time to do it! Normally, when we leave for a trip – we are going to the airport or, perhaps, to Doug and Laura’s to drop the dog. While, we like to leave ample time, not the kind of time required for a summit round-trip. But, today – everything was going our way!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Paris route map 2002
I thought I should show my route map of our month-long Paris trip. The blue represents metro trips from our home in the Butte aux Cailles (plus the Seine). The yellow represents walking trips. The green represents my lone (and absolutely fabulous) bike trip. I thought this clearly showed something about my mind. What it shows about my mind - I am not at all sure.
Monday, June 23, 2008
France Trip # 4 (prelude 2)
I always avoided foreign languages. I chose my college, UCSC, in part because it had no language requirement. Why did I hate them so much? I think basically fear. In my last test for French 2, I had an assignment to create a story or fable. I used my fear of languages as inspiration:
Il était une fois une femme, Robin, qui avait peur des langues étrangères. Elle pensait que si elle essayait de les apprendre, les gens se moqueraient d’elle. Pendant son temps au lycée, elle a pris une classe d’allemand parce qu’elle devait le prendre. Et trois fois, les étudiants se sont moqués d’elle. Donc, elle avait plus peur. Alors, elle évitait les pays étrangers et les étrangers. Mais puis, elle a connu Leslie et, dix ans plus tard, elles se sont mariées. Leslie adorait toutes les langues étrangères et les pays étrangers. Elle avait une sœur super, Laura, qui les adorait aussi – particulièrement le français. Elles aimaient voyager ensemble et étaient si heureuses quand elles ont connu des étrangers et bavardaient avec eux. Robin était muette et elle était piégée dans un monde anglophone. Robin était aussi triste. Elle voulait jouer aux jeux de renne ! Mais, elle avait encore peur. Un jour, Laura a décidé de devenir un professeur de français. Et, elle est devenue un prof très solide pédagogiquement. Elle était talentueuse et travailleuse et, quand elle enseignait, les étudiants n'avaient pas peur. Donc, un jour, Robin a dit : « S’ils rient, je ne me soucie pas ! Je vais prendre la classe de français avec Laura ! » Et, elle l’a fait. (Mais, elle avait encore un peu peur.)
I am not going to translate it but suffice it to say, it began: Once upon a time there was a woman, Robin, who had fear of foreign languages....
So, why did I decide to study French after years of avoidance? First, because Leslie loves foreign languages and foreign travel. She has such fun talking Spanish or French or Italian (or German or Japanese....or whatever comes next) She gets so animated and always is laughing or grinning when she is speaking to someone in a different language. She is so fearless in communication. So, I was both jealous of her ability and inspired by it.
We both adore France. I like stuff like the museums and architecture but it is the people that I really love. I just do not get the crowd that hates the French. Je ne le comprends pas! I haven't been to that many other countries, actually. Just Italy, France, Mexico and Canada. Not much of a foreign travel resume. But, seriously, the French are very cool! (I am adding Germany to "my countries" this summer. I think the Germans might just be "my people" as their reputation - organized, hardworking, direct - hey, that's me! They also have a reputation for having a lack of sense of humor and not being overly friendly - but I am sure that is wrong. Any culture who brings the world the concept of schadenfreude has a sense of humor! A somewhat sick one, perhaps, but an honest one. And the Germans we are visiting happen to be among the nicest people I have ever met. So, I know Germans can be really, really sweet.)
Leslie has, of course, been lots more places including various stints living abroad in both South America and Europe. But, she likes France best. And, so does her sister, Laura. Laura liked it so much that she became a French teacher. And, to give proper credit, it was Laura who melted my resistance to learning another language. Well, at least, learning French. Over the years, she began to teach me little bits of French - and she did it so clearly and easily that I began to think I could do it. Therefore, I decided to take Laura's French class at DeAnza. And, I am telling you, she is a fantastic teacher. Don't take me word for it. Click here: http://www.ratemyprofessors.com/ShowRatings.jsp?tid=243285
Laura is a bit sensitive that some people say that she is an "easy A" - but if you read all the comments you will see that is only true if you actually learn the material! Which is the whole point of the class, may I add.
And, then, further inspiring me to learn French is my 19-year old French friend, Judith. She stayed with us for three weeks last summer in a cultural exploration program in Santa Cruz. And, now, we will be visiting her and her family in France. She speaks English well - but I really want to be able to communicate in her language, too. Plus, I want to be able to talk with her mom (who speaks English about as well as I now speak French) and her dad (who has long forgotten most of the English he learned in school).
So, that is the basic prelude to this trip. In my future posts, I am not going to be talking about the museums, the sights, the attractions. I will be talking about people and communication and language. This will be my first experience out of my own tongue. What is that like? How am I feeling? What am I learning? How is it special or different from my normal/past life. That is what I will try to capture. I will begin those posts around July 13th....I will be on email (as will Leslie) the whole time - so feel free to write directly.
Il était une fois une femme, Robin, qui avait peur des langues étrangères. Elle pensait que si elle essayait de les apprendre, les gens se moqueraient d’elle. Pendant son temps au lycée, elle a pris une classe d’allemand parce qu’elle devait le prendre. Et trois fois, les étudiants se sont moqués d’elle. Donc, elle avait plus peur. Alors, elle évitait les pays étrangers et les étrangers. Mais puis, elle a connu Leslie et, dix ans plus tard, elles se sont mariées. Leslie adorait toutes les langues étrangères et les pays étrangers. Elle avait une sœur super, Laura, qui les adorait aussi – particulièrement le français. Elles aimaient voyager ensemble et étaient si heureuses quand elles ont connu des étrangers et bavardaient avec eux. Robin était muette et elle était piégée dans un monde anglophone. Robin était aussi triste. Elle voulait jouer aux jeux de renne ! Mais, elle avait encore peur. Un jour, Laura a décidé de devenir un professeur de français. Et, elle est devenue un prof très solide pédagogiquement. Elle était talentueuse et travailleuse et, quand elle enseignait, les étudiants n'avaient pas peur. Donc, un jour, Robin a dit : « S’ils rient, je ne me soucie pas ! Je vais prendre la classe de français avec Laura ! » Et, elle l’a fait. (Mais, elle avait encore un peu peur.)
I am not going to translate it but suffice it to say, it began: Once upon a time there was a woman, Robin, who had fear of foreign languages....
So, why did I decide to study French after years of avoidance? First, because Leslie loves foreign languages and foreign travel. She has such fun talking Spanish or French or Italian (or German or Japanese....or whatever comes next) She gets so animated and always is laughing or grinning when she is speaking to someone in a different language. She is so fearless in communication. So, I was both jealous of her ability and inspired by it.
We both adore France. I like stuff like the museums and architecture but it is the people that I really love. I just do not get the crowd that hates the French. Je ne le comprends pas! I haven't been to that many other countries, actually. Just Italy, France, Mexico and Canada. Not much of a foreign travel resume. But, seriously, the French are very cool! (I am adding Germany to "my countries" this summer. I think the Germans might just be "my people" as their reputation - organized, hardworking, direct - hey, that's me! They also have a reputation for having a lack of sense of humor and not being overly friendly - but I am sure that is wrong. Any culture who brings the world the concept of schadenfreude has a sense of humor! A somewhat sick one, perhaps, but an honest one. And the Germans we are visiting happen to be among the nicest people I have ever met. So, I know Germans can be really, really sweet.)
Leslie has, of course, been lots more places including various stints living abroad in both South America and Europe. But, she likes France best. And, so does her sister, Laura. Laura liked it so much that she became a French teacher. And, to give proper credit, it was Laura who melted my resistance to learning another language. Well, at least, learning French. Over the years, she began to teach me little bits of French - and she did it so clearly and easily that I began to think I could do it. Therefore, I decided to take Laura's French class at DeAnza. And, I am telling you, she is a fantastic teacher. Don't take me word for it. Click here: http://www.ratemyprofessors.com/ShowRatings.jsp?tid=243285
Laura is a bit sensitive that some people say that she is an "easy A" - but if you read all the comments you will see that is only true if you actually learn the material! Which is the whole point of the class, may I add.
And, then, further inspiring me to learn French is my 19-year old French friend, Judith. She stayed with us for three weeks last summer in a cultural exploration program in Santa Cruz. And, now, we will be visiting her and her family in France. She speaks English well - but I really want to be able to communicate in her language, too. Plus, I want to be able to talk with her mom (who speaks English about as well as I now speak French) and her dad (who has long forgotten most of the English he learned in school).
So, that is the basic prelude to this trip. In my future posts, I am not going to be talking about the museums, the sights, the attractions. I will be talking about people and communication and language. This will be my first experience out of my own tongue. What is that like? How am I feeling? What am I learning? How is it special or different from my normal/past life. That is what I will try to capture. I will begin those posts around July 13th....I will be on email (as will Leslie) the whole time - so feel free to write directly.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
France Trip # 4
I have been to France three times, but as a complete and total English speaker. This time, I will be able to speak a little French as I put in two quarters of study and lots of practice. Before I begin my trip and related blog about my fourth trip to France, I thought a review was in order.
Trip 1 to southern France for two weeks (1999)
On my first trip, I jotted a pro/con list of impressions of the difference between the two experiences on my first trip (Californian versus French) - but it was entirely superficial because I didn't speak the language at all. But, for historical purposes, I think I should publish the original list. Much is in jest because how else could it be? Nonetheless, here were my pros:
You will note there is nothing on my con list such as "people are rude". Pourquoi pas? Because, they weren't! In fact, I have spent a total of 8 weeks in France in my life and met hundreds of French people and I didn't speak their language and they were all very, very nice! Ok, not every single last one. There was a curt cashier at the metro once. And a waitress at the bistro was impatient with us (but friendly two days later when we saw her again.) But, that is it. Everyone else was very kind and nice. And, given the reputation - I expected some rude! I have talked to friends with rude stories - elaborate, true-sounding rude stories. They are great stories. Scary stories. Really rude French folks in the stories. For the record, most of the rude French stories involved a very wealthy person or a long-suffering bureaucrat. Both categories of folks often are rude wherever you find them. Suffice it to say, I have not personally found any truth to the stereotype.
Now, I did follow Laura's (my sister-in-law) rule at all times. Which is that one must say "Bonjour, madame", "Bonjour, monsieur", etc when beginning a conversation with a French person you don't know. Could it be these are magic words that unlock the sweet souls of the French? And that, if one does not say it, they become these rude monsters? Perhaps....I didn't experiment with the alternative. And, I don't think you should either. When in France - follow Laura's rule of greeting. And, stay away from bureaucrats and rich people. I think you will be pleased.
Trip 2 (to Paris in 2002)
We houstraded for a month in the Butte Aux Cailles area of Paris (the 13th) and it was fabulous. I sent emails to my work crew (at UCSC - students between 19-22) letting them know the low-down. And, as always, I made more lists. Here is a list I entitled: What the French clearly do better. I had explanatory notes with it - but I don't think you need them.
1. Wine (better value)
2. Bread
3. Sidewalk cafes
4. 15% tip included
5. Public transporation
6. Cheese
7. Most food is better consistently
8. More dogs, more places
9. Kissing when greeting
And then, the "what the French do wrong list" (with explanations)
1. The computer keyboard There are some differences that are neutral (the a, m, n, x, z, etc are in different locations.) The things that is crazy, though, is that you have to shift for a period! If you don't shift, you get the semi-colon. What the hell is up with that? They use periods at the end of sentences just like us. You also have to shift for numbers which is lame, as well.
2. They are too rigid about coffee They are inflexible about when you can have cream - only in the mornings is it ok. And, worse, they won't bring your coffee until after you dessert is finished. They don't drink coffee with their dessert! That is just very nuts.
3. Pillow Rolls They don't have American pillows here. They have these hard huge rolls. Even when they have a somewhat normal looking American-like pillow, they tend to be bulky and hard. Apparently, pillows are optional in France, as our hosts asked us if we planned on using a pillow when staying at their house. I suppose that given the choice of one of those stupid pillow rolls or nothing, many people do go without.
4. The negative side of dogs Yes, there is a lot of dog shit on the streets and one must keep a sharp eye. However, the city of Paris is very clean. The little green men are everywhere (sanitation workers). But, so are the dogs. It is a continual war of dog shit verses the little green men but dogs clearly have the advantage.
5. No doggie bags You would think with all the dogs and all the restaurants, there would be a lot of doggie bags. But, it isn't considered proper to take home leftover food or wine. (Of course, people bring their dogs to the restaurant and the dog eats the leftovers right then and there, I suppose.) To solve this problem, Leslie and I just carry plastic bags and, when no one is looking (except the dogs), we dump our food leftovers in the bag. Voilà! We - reluctantly, of course - have to drink all the wine.
6. Clothing (gender) rigidity. One of the reasons that the French constantly think I am a guy is that I wear clothes that are exclusively worn by guys in France. You know what I mean - jeans, t-shirts and sweatshirts. While women wear jeans, they are designer jeans. No 501s (or the equivalent) for them. Women rarely wear t-shirts unless they, too, are designed only for women. Ditto sweatshirts. Essentially, there is no uni-sex clothing in France. It is so much easier being a transvestite in the USA! (Ed note: In 2007, we hosted an 18-year old French student, Judith, for three weeks. She explained to me that French women do wear uni-sex clothing - they just won't do it outside their home.)
Trip 3 to Paris for two weeks (in 2005)
I didn't really make lists. But, I did notice how much the toilets had improved. When I went in 1999 - lots of pit toilets. By the time we came in 2005, the toilets were art pieces! Damn, you must check out the toilets of Paris.
Trip 4 to Paris and Nancy beginning July 12th.
I will make some notes before the trip to put it in context. But, just wanted to record the history.
Trip 1 to southern France for two weeks (1999)
On my first trip, I jotted a pro/con list of impressions of the difference between the two experiences on my first trip (Californian versus French) - but it was entirely superficial because I didn't speak the language at all. But, for historical purposes, I think I should publish the original list. Much is in jest because how else could it be? Nonetheless, here were my pros:
- people kiss on greeting and parting
- not weird about female nudity and not as weird about sex in general
- wine is a much better value
- bidets
- local markets
- wholesome bars (coffee in the morning, a drink in the afternoon - buy stamps there!)
- clocks on the highways
- more clocks in general everywhere
- dogs
- traffic circles
- cute little cars
- speed limits are better
- outdoor cafes
- freedom of outdoor alcohol movement (not in cages like they are here in Santa Cruz)
- fountains
- trash can on table
- nutella at breakfast
- bread
- food is a much better value
- towels
- more sexist than here
- everyone thinks I am a guy
- pillows
- no coffee with desserts
- seeded grapes
- not enough hugging
- washing machines
- salad course at the wrong time in the menu
- not enough ice
- no butter with dinner and lunch
- traffic signals
- bells ringing all the damn time
- the Mediterranean (as compared to the Pacific Ocean)
- traffic signals and signs
- house numbering
You will note there is nothing on my con list such as "people are rude". Pourquoi pas? Because, they weren't! In fact, I have spent a total of 8 weeks in France in my life and met hundreds of French people and I didn't speak their language and they were all very, very nice! Ok, not every single last one. There was a curt cashier at the metro once. And a waitress at the bistro was impatient with us (but friendly two days later when we saw her again.) But, that is it. Everyone else was very kind and nice. And, given the reputation - I expected some rude! I have talked to friends with rude stories - elaborate, true-sounding rude stories. They are great stories. Scary stories. Really rude French folks in the stories. For the record, most of the rude French stories involved a very wealthy person or a long-suffering bureaucrat. Both categories of folks often are rude wherever you find them. Suffice it to say, I have not personally found any truth to the stereotype.
Now, I did follow Laura's (my sister-in-law) rule at all times. Which is that one must say "Bonjour, madame", "Bonjour, monsieur", etc when beginning a conversation with a French person you don't know. Could it be these are magic words that unlock the sweet souls of the French? And that, if one does not say it, they become these rude monsters? Perhaps....I didn't experiment with the alternative. And, I don't think you should either. When in France - follow Laura's rule of greeting. And, stay away from bureaucrats and rich people. I think you will be pleased.
Trip 2 (to Paris in 2002)
We houstraded for a month in the Butte Aux Cailles area of Paris (the 13th) and it was fabulous. I sent emails to my work crew (at UCSC - students between 19-22) letting them know the low-down. And, as always, I made more lists. Here is a list I entitled: What the French clearly do better. I had explanatory notes with it - but I don't think you need them.
1. Wine (better value)
2. Bread
3. Sidewalk cafes
4. 15% tip included
5. Public transporation
6. Cheese
7. Most food is better consistently
8. More dogs, more places
9. Kissing when greeting
And then, the "what the French do wrong list" (with explanations)
1. The computer keyboard There are some differences that are neutral (the a, m, n, x, z, etc are in different locations.) The things that is crazy, though, is that you have to shift for a period! If you don't shift, you get the semi-colon. What the hell is up with that? They use periods at the end of sentences just like us. You also have to shift for numbers which is lame, as well.
2. They are too rigid about coffee They are inflexible about when you can have cream - only in the mornings is it ok. And, worse, they won't bring your coffee until after you dessert is finished. They don't drink coffee with their dessert! That is just very nuts.
3. Pillow Rolls They don't have American pillows here. They have these hard huge rolls. Even when they have a somewhat normal looking American-like pillow, they tend to be bulky and hard. Apparently, pillows are optional in France, as our hosts asked us if we planned on using a pillow when staying at their house. I suppose that given the choice of one of those stupid pillow rolls or nothing, many people do go without.
4. The negative side of dogs Yes, there is a lot of dog shit on the streets and one must keep a sharp eye. However, the city of Paris is very clean. The little green men are everywhere (sanitation workers). But, so are the dogs. It is a continual war of dog shit verses the little green men but dogs clearly have the advantage.
5. No doggie bags You would think with all the dogs and all the restaurants, there would be a lot of doggie bags. But, it isn't considered proper to take home leftover food or wine. (Of course, people bring their dogs to the restaurant and the dog eats the leftovers right then and there, I suppose.) To solve this problem, Leslie and I just carry plastic bags and, when no one is looking (except the dogs), we dump our food leftovers in the bag. Voilà! We - reluctantly, of course - have to drink all the wine.
6. Clothing (gender) rigidity. One of the reasons that the French constantly think I am a guy is that I wear clothes that are exclusively worn by guys in France. You know what I mean - jeans, t-shirts and sweatshirts. While women wear jeans, they are designer jeans. No 501s (or the equivalent) for them. Women rarely wear t-shirts unless they, too, are designed only for women. Ditto sweatshirts. Essentially, there is no uni-sex clothing in France. It is so much easier being a transvestite in the USA! (Ed note: In 2007, we hosted an 18-year old French student, Judith, for three weeks. She explained to me that French women do wear uni-sex clothing - they just won't do it outside their home.)
Trip 3 to Paris for two weeks (in 2005)
I didn't really make lists. But, I did notice how much the toilets had improved. When I went in 1999 - lots of pit toilets. By the time we came in 2005, the toilets were art pieces! Damn, you must check out the toilets of Paris.
Trip 4 to Paris and Nancy beginning July 12th.
I will make some notes before the trip to put it in context. But, just wanted to record the history.
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