n. – patience
Patience is not only a virtue, but a necessity when living in Paris. Take my carte sejour, for example. I finally had my medical exam on Monday, which was supposed to be the final element among the requirements. It took half the day, which I had been prepared for, but when it was over I still didn’t get the card. “C’est prêt mais pas encore envoyé,” it’s ready, but hasn’t been sent yet, was the explanation I received. I’ve already been here for seven months. The card is good for one year. At this rate, it will expire before I even have it.
On the way home, I stopped at the pharmacy. There is always a line at the pharmacy, any pharmacy, any time of day or night. I love French pharmacies though. They’re smaller than the giant drugstores we’re used to in the US and filled with lovely things. Even the packaging for things like aspirin or vitamins seems nicer here. It’s difficult to browse in a pharmacy though because of its small size. It’s assumed you know exactly what you want when you enter, so if you’re not standing in the line, people will come over to you and ask if you need help. It seems silly to say no, I’m just looking – at toothpaste.
In almost any store except the supermarket perhaps, it’s helpful to know what you want and if you have questions you must be prepared for detailed explanations. Not long ago, my husband was looking innocently for mache, a lovely lettuce alternative here that looks like giant watercress. He received an education on the seasonality of mache – early spring being the expiration date so an alternative was suggested. I recently learned that geraniums seem to be on the seasonal brink of extinction as well. This is unfortunate because I was told that they are good at warding off mosquitoes, which have been plaguing us for the last few months.
I did find something at the pharmacy that’s supposed to help, a mini oil lamp of sorts. It’s actually a small diffuser you plug into the wall at night. So far I don’t think it’s done any good just like the citronella candles. And now that I’ve discovered the geranium solution, there aren’t any to be found. Of course screens on the window would be out of the question. Even I would hate to put anything between me and my beautiful view of the Paris rooftops. If I can’t get rid of the bugs, maybe I can find something at the pharmacy that will heal the itch. In any event, it’s a good excuse to go back in and take a look around.
Jun 25, 2009
Jun 24, 2009
Aurore, l’aube
n. dawn
The French have trouble with my name (Dawn) since it’s not common here. Aurore is the word for dawn and l’aube or “à l’aube de” more specifically means just before, so in this case, just before the day. My name is usually pronounced as Down, but the other day someone actually pronounced it more appropriately, which in French makes it sound like “donne” from the verb “donner,” which means to give.
Most of the time people just assume I’m a man if they haven’t met me or they’ll use my last name (Erickson) as my first name since I guess it looks more familiar to them with the word Eric in it. My husband used to have trouble with his first name (Olivier) in the States. I never understood why and would always explain that it’s like Oliver, but with an “i.” Then someone once spelled it Oliveri so I realized that wasn’t helping.
Rather than saying my name is, here you actually say “je m’appelle” which translates to I call myself. This is a similar with bathing, sitting and remembering as in “je me lave,” I bathe myself, “je m’assoir,” I seat myelf and “je me souviens,” I remember myself.
On another level, to be, “être” and to have, “avoir” here are often interchanged. For example, you aren’t cold or hot, but rather you have cold or hot, “j’ai froid” or “j’ai chaud.” You also have your age rather than are your age, “j’ai 25 ans” or I have 25 years (well a few more in my case, but who’s counting). When you are finished, you say I have finished or “j’ai fini” vs. I am finished. And so I have with this little lecture of the day. Aurore or dawn will bring a new day tomorrow and with it continued observations on life and language in France.
The French have trouble with my name (Dawn) since it’s not common here. Aurore is the word for dawn and l’aube or “à l’aube de” more specifically means just before, so in this case, just before the day. My name is usually pronounced as Down, but the other day someone actually pronounced it more appropriately, which in French makes it sound like “donne” from the verb “donner,” which means to give.
Most of the time people just assume I’m a man if they haven’t met me or they’ll use my last name (Erickson) as my first name since I guess it looks more familiar to them with the word Eric in it. My husband used to have trouble with his first name (Olivier) in the States. I never understood why and would always explain that it’s like Oliver, but with an “i.” Then someone once spelled it Oliveri so I realized that wasn’t helping.
Rather than saying my name is, here you actually say “je m’appelle” which translates to I call myself. This is a similar with bathing, sitting and remembering as in “je me lave,” I bathe myself, “je m’assoir,” I seat myelf and “je me souviens,” I remember myself.
On another level, to be, “être” and to have, “avoir” here are often interchanged. For example, you aren’t cold or hot, but rather you have cold or hot, “j’ai froid” or “j’ai chaud.” You also have your age rather than are your age, “j’ai 25 ans” or I have 25 years (well a few more in my case, but who’s counting). When you are finished, you say I have finished or “j’ai fini” vs. I am finished. And so I have with this little lecture of the day. Aurore or dawn will bring a new day tomorrow and with it continued observations on life and language in France.
Jun 12, 2009
Manifestation
n. – protest
Protests are very popular in Paris. While not quite as disruptive as full blown strikes, they still manage to serve their purpose in disrupting the every day rhythm. This is why one always needs to allow enough time to get around.
At the same time, they don’t really seem to faze people very much. I suppose this is because they’re so used to them. The other day, the bus I was on came to a complete standstill in the midst of gridlock traffic surrounded by sirens. When I finally escaped, I saw police standing on the corners in full riot gear. I couldn’t see any sign of the disruption and they seemed approachable to I asked what was happening. Ever so politely they explained that there was a “manifestation,” but it was over now. “A Paris, il y a toujours quelque chose.” There’s always something in Paris, said the young gendarme with a smile.
The lack of deep concern or even real fear of authority can be seen daily. Paris drivers make up their own set of road rules and it’s almost as if the mutual chaos is what keeps them safe from each other. Gridlock is an art form and a broken stop light is simply a challenge to see how many cars can get through without stopping. The Arc de Triomphe is a perfect example of the controlled chaos. Through this giant roundabout, cars come streaming through from all directions and there are no stop signs for anyone. While technically the right of way is given to the people on the right (a good way to remember that), it’s a bit of “n’importe quoi” which in this case means anything goes. The liability, however, if there is an accident is shared 50/50. So I think this has a lot to do with the fact that people don’t push beyond the limits although there are times when I feel like luck is the only thing that get us through the roundabout safely.
I think the French have a tendency to question things more. They love a good argument and respect a decent rationale. So it’s important that one is provided before enforcing anything. There is a small street that’s almost like an alley next to our apartment. The other day it was blocked by two orange cones. A driver, wanting to go through, got out of his car, looked down the street and when he could see no reason why the cones were there, he simply moved them out of the way. I loved that. This is one of the reasons the subway gates are so complicated to go through in Paris. If they were as easy to jump over as the ones in New York for example, hardly anyone would pay!
This morning there was a bomb scare in our neighborhood so access in or out was blocked. Of course, it turned out to be nothing at all, but instead of panic and fear, the people who were temporarily trapped simply sat down at the nearest café, ordered a coffee and lit up their cigarettes. Pas de probleme, a Paris il y a toujours quelque chose.
Jun 3, 2009
Comment ca va?
exp. – how do you feel?
To follow up on my last entry, I took the metro again this week when there wasn’t a strike and found it just as unpleasant during the rush hour commute. So I guess the strike wasn’t as much to blame after all, but regardless I still appreciate our car even more. We took the bus over the weekend with my father who is visiting and he pointed out that there’s an awful lot of wasted space where there could be more seats. We realized after talking it over that in fact the empty space is well utilized when the bus is crowded as more people can stand, but luckily that’s been something I haven’t experienced yet.
Being squeezed into a crowded space makes me cranky or as the French say, “etre de mauvais poil.” Literally translated this means to be of bad hair. “A poil” or at hair actually means to be naked. While “cheveux” refers to the hair(s) on your head, “poil” refers to the hair that covers the rest of your body. So you can just be at hair when you’re undressed, be of bad hair when you’re in a bad mood, or be of good hair, “etre de bon poil,” when you’re in a good mood.
To be in a good mood can also be described as “avoir la peche” or “avoir la patate,” having the peach or having the potato. I’m not sure what the connection is with the two other than the fact that they both begin with the letter “p” and both can be eaten. Of course Americans do use the expression peachy or peachy keen which is really cheesy if you’ll forgive another food reference. Food references also come into play with another way to say you’re not feeling your best, “je ne suis pas dans mon assiette” or I'm not in my plate. “Gronion” is a word for grumpy, usually used for children and not to be confused with “ronion,” which are veal kidneys and “onion,” which means the same thing in French as in English…once more, back to food.
“Heureux,” “content,” “ravi” mean happy, content, thrilled in that order. “J’ai hate de…” actually doesn’t mean you hate something, but rather you’re looking forward to something. “Detester” is the verb for hate or detest. Of course my mother always told me that you shouldn’t hate anyone or anything, but rather you should use the word dislike. So to reiterate I dislike being in a crowded space as it makes me be of bad hair when I would rather have the peach and be in my plate.
To follow up on my last entry, I took the metro again this week when there wasn’t a strike and found it just as unpleasant during the rush hour commute. So I guess the strike wasn’t as much to blame after all, but regardless I still appreciate our car even more. We took the bus over the weekend with my father who is visiting and he pointed out that there’s an awful lot of wasted space where there could be more seats. We realized after talking it over that in fact the empty space is well utilized when the bus is crowded as more people can stand, but luckily that’s been something I haven’t experienced yet.
Being squeezed into a crowded space makes me cranky or as the French say, “etre de mauvais poil.” Literally translated this means to be of bad hair. “A poil” or at hair actually means to be naked. While “cheveux” refers to the hair(s) on your head, “poil” refers to the hair that covers the rest of your body. So you can just be at hair when you’re undressed, be of bad hair when you’re in a bad mood, or be of good hair, “etre de bon poil,” when you’re in a good mood.
To be in a good mood can also be described as “avoir la peche” or “avoir la patate,” having the peach or having the potato. I’m not sure what the connection is with the two other than the fact that they both begin with the letter “p” and both can be eaten. Of course Americans do use the expression peachy or peachy keen which is really cheesy if you’ll forgive another food reference. Food references also come into play with another way to say you’re not feeling your best, “je ne suis pas dans mon assiette” or I'm not in my plate. “Gronion” is a word for grumpy, usually used for children and not to be confused with “ronion,” which are veal kidneys and “onion,” which means the same thing in French as in English…once more, back to food.
“Heureux,” “content,” “ravi” mean happy, content, thrilled in that order. “J’ai hate de…” actually doesn’t mean you hate something, but rather you’re looking forward to something. “Detester” is the verb for hate or detest. Of course my mother always told me that you shouldn’t hate anyone or anything, but rather you should use the word dislike. So to reiterate I dislike being in a crowded space as it makes me be of bad hair when I would rather have the peach and be in my plate.
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