n. – curriculum vitae (Latin) or resume
I had to re-do my resume in French which was challenging since there are many words and expressions in business language that can’t be directly translated. There is also additional information that isn’t mandatory, but is often included such as marital status, whether one has a driver’s license or not and even a photo. I felt that at this stage in my life none of these things were necessary. At the same time, I wondered if I didn't put a photo woould people wonder why.
I remember when we took international interns at my previous company, potential candidates would email me their resumes with the above mentioned information. Once, a girl actually included her photo as a separate attachment and when I opened it, there she was smiling at a bar, cocktail in hand. Needless to say, we didn’t select her. She sent her resume again, this time with the separate photo attached of her in front of her car. Still no dice.
One thing I realized literally only today is that I have never had to prove my education once to an employer even though it’s a critical part of one’s resume. My information is accurate – I graduated with a BA in Modern European History from a well respected East Coast university, but it just makes me wonder if anyone embellishes that information. Perhaps the girl with the cocktail and the car will do that one day seeing how her photos aren’t helping that much.
Here many people are cautious before hiring someone full time. CDD’s are temporary contracts of up to six months that can be renewed once. After that, a company must either hire you for a permanent contract (CDI) or let you go. If a company lets you go, even if it’s at the end of a CDD, you are eligible for “chaummage” or unemployment. The French are very well protected in the case of their employment benefits, medical care and general civil rights. So in the case of employee vs. employer, tenant vs. landlord, it will always be the former that’s protected from the latter. This is why many landlords require so many guarantees before renting their apartments. If a tenant moves in and stops paying rent, it can take years to get them out.
There has been much debate recently about lifting some of laws forbidding work on Sunday. In a perfect world, one would think, if people want to work, why shouldn’t they be allowed to? Wouldn’t it open up opportunities to create more work and ease unemployment? Well, if you see the glass half full, that’s probably how you would look at it. However, there are people who worry that some employers might take advantage by not hiring more people, but rather overworking the people they have and so on. Glass half full would also look at it as an opportunity to increase profits for businesses. Cautionary glass would see it as a possible threat to businesses unable to extend their hours for whatever reason and become obliterated by those who can. In any event a vote has been passed to ease the restrictions so we’ll see how it works out.
Speaking of towels, which I wasn’t at all, but was reminded of since I had the conversation about working on Sundays with a friend of mine who had also pointed out something interesting about towels. We had different opinions on the former subject, which is always healthy since I think you learn more from the people who don’t agree with you than those that do. And we have different opinions on the latter subject with regards to how we like them washed and dried. She prefers hers air dried, I prefer mine machine dried. There is a very distinctive difference with the air dried towels coming out rougher and not as fluffy. I had never given this much thought until now, not that it warrants a tremendous amount, if any at all.
Great health care, employee benefits and more including the freedom of choice between fluffy or scruffy towels are things to be thankful for. And while no place is perfect, it does often come down to how one looks at things so here’s a toast to Paris with glass half full. Santé!
Jul 28, 2009
Jul 27, 2009
Tôt
adj. – early, soon
Dormir, se coucher, se reposer
v. – to sleep, rest
Se lever
v. – to get up
I have never been nor do I ever see myself being a naturally early riser. I remember when I was a teenager putting the alarm clock clear across the room forcing me to get out of bed to turn it off. Could it be this was before the snooze button was invented – I’m not sure. In any event, one of the things that’s great about Paris is the fact that the pace is a bit slower here with things beginning (and ending) later than in the US.
“Tôt” which is the word for early is also the word for soon. It is used when saying goodbye in the expression “à bientôt.” In other words, I’ll see you soon. "A toute a l’heure" is literally until the next hour which is our equivalent of saying see you later. “Au revoir” means until the next time I see you, “voir” being the verb for “to see.” This is why "déjà vu" means already seen – “déjà” meaning already and “vu” the past tense of “voir.” "Adieu" is more permanent as it translates to see you again with God. And "à jamais" which means see you never, is reserved for a passionate break-up line once used in a letter to a friend of mine.
Before we arrived here, 7:30 was a suitable dinner time. Now I look up sometimes to realize it’s almost 9:00 and we still haven’t eaten. People generally arrive at their offices sometime between 9:00 and 9:30 in the morning, but often stay past 8 at night, dining around 8:30 or 9:00. Lunches tend to be a bit protracted as well. The lunch hour begins anywhere between 12:30 and 1:00 and ends respectively between 2:00 and 2:30. Lunch is eaten out or at a canteen if your company has one, not at one’s desk. Lunch also consists of what I call real food. You see more salads in the summer, but generally people eat courses and hot dishes. Most restaurants will have a prix fixe selection of a starter plus a main course or a main course plus a dessert. Fast food and sandwiches do exist here of course, but whenever possible, people prefer to sit down and eat a meal rather than rush with their food.
The French have a reputation for being late or “en retard,” which is sometimes true in social settings, but professionally, I find them to be quite punctual. The Italians and the Spanish are much more lax as are the Indians. One of my Indian friends always asks “French time or Indian time?” because you literally have to factor in a good 45 minute wait for her. It’s always worth it I might add because she is lovely, but I did think for a moment about printing one of our wedding invitations with an earlier time just for her.
The expression “sleep tight” may come from the time when beds were made from ropes pulled across a frame in a zig zag pattern. Over time, they would slip and sag, hence the expression keeping them tight for a better night’s sleep. Here you sleep well “dormir bien” or “se reposer bien.” And you don’t have good dreams, but rather make them, “faire des beaux rèves.” Also, you make a nap vs. taking one, “faire une sieste.” “Faire la grasse matinee” is to sleep in or literally translated, make the fat morning.
“L’avenir appartient a ceux qui se levent tot” or the future comes to those who wake up early is the French equivalent of the early bird gets the worm. I’m not a bird so getting the worm never appealed to me. However, we don’t really benefit from a later start in the morning since we don’t work for a French company. So until I become a nightclub impresario, I will have to find a way to marry my now increasingly later night life with the same early morning punctuality respected by the Anglo Saxon culture. Maybe a nap or maybe re-working the expression to the early bird gets the croissant might help better revive me from my slumber.
Dormir, se coucher, se reposer
v. – to sleep, rest
Se lever
v. – to get up
I have never been nor do I ever see myself being a naturally early riser. I remember when I was a teenager putting the alarm clock clear across the room forcing me to get out of bed to turn it off. Could it be this was before the snooze button was invented – I’m not sure. In any event, one of the things that’s great about Paris is the fact that the pace is a bit slower here with things beginning (and ending) later than in the US.
“Tôt” which is the word for early is also the word for soon. It is used when saying goodbye in the expression “à bientôt.” In other words, I’ll see you soon. "A toute a l’heure" is literally until the next hour which is our equivalent of saying see you later. “Au revoir” means until the next time I see you, “voir” being the verb for “to see.” This is why "déjà vu" means already seen – “déjà” meaning already and “vu” the past tense of “voir.” "Adieu" is more permanent as it translates to see you again with God. And "à jamais" which means see you never, is reserved for a passionate break-up line once used in a letter to a friend of mine.
Before we arrived here, 7:30 was a suitable dinner time. Now I look up sometimes to realize it’s almost 9:00 and we still haven’t eaten. People generally arrive at their offices sometime between 9:00 and 9:30 in the morning, but often stay past 8 at night, dining around 8:30 or 9:00. Lunches tend to be a bit protracted as well. The lunch hour begins anywhere between 12:30 and 1:00 and ends respectively between 2:00 and 2:30. Lunch is eaten out or at a canteen if your company has one, not at one’s desk. Lunch also consists of what I call real food. You see more salads in the summer, but generally people eat courses and hot dishes. Most restaurants will have a prix fixe selection of a starter plus a main course or a main course plus a dessert. Fast food and sandwiches do exist here of course, but whenever possible, people prefer to sit down and eat a meal rather than rush with their food.
The French have a reputation for being late or “en retard,” which is sometimes true in social settings, but professionally, I find them to be quite punctual. The Italians and the Spanish are much more lax as are the Indians. One of my Indian friends always asks “French time or Indian time?” because you literally have to factor in a good 45 minute wait for her. It’s always worth it I might add because she is lovely, but I did think for a moment about printing one of our wedding invitations with an earlier time just for her.
The expression “sleep tight” may come from the time when beds were made from ropes pulled across a frame in a zig zag pattern. Over time, they would slip and sag, hence the expression keeping them tight for a better night’s sleep. Here you sleep well “dormir bien” or “se reposer bien.” And you don’t have good dreams, but rather make them, “faire des beaux rèves.” Also, you make a nap vs. taking one, “faire une sieste.” “Faire la grasse matinee” is to sleep in or literally translated, make the fat morning.
“L’avenir appartient a ceux qui se levent tot” or the future comes to those who wake up early is the French equivalent of the early bird gets the worm. I’m not a bird so getting the worm never appealed to me. However, we don’t really benefit from a later start in the morning since we don’t work for a French company. So until I become a nightclub impresario, I will have to find a way to marry my now increasingly later night life with the same early morning punctuality respected by the Anglo Saxon culture. Maybe a nap or maybe re-working the expression to the early bird gets the croissant might help better revive me from my slumber.
Jul 22, 2009
Règles
n. – rules
One of the things that makes Paris unique, like many older cities, is its resistance to change. In the US, we seem to be constantly adapting to the latest fad or craze whether it’s low carb dieting or reality TV. Here when it comes to eating, there are traditions that are carefully respected.
For example, there is no bread basket before the food. Bread is an accompaniment, not a snack. And this is very logical. Bread is also served alone, not with olive oil, not with butter. You can ask, but be cautious where you are first. In a classic bistro, you’re likely to get a look and on top be charged extra. Yes, butter comes at a price.
Cheese is never served as an hors d’oeuvre (unless it’s the little laughing cow or “vache qui rit” cubes). These are fun because the wrappers come with little trivia questions. Of course if you eat a lot of them, you start to see the same questions come up, but it’s fun nevertheless. Traditionally the aperitif is prepared in the salon or living room. In many French people’s homes, they will bring out all the liquor bottles available and let you make your choice from there. Don’t expect a lot of ice since it is also a rare commodity sort of like the butter.
Cocktails must be finished before passing to the table. Sometimes, but not always there will be glasses for water as well as wine. If there is only one glass, it can get tricky if you’re thirsty and have to chug down the wine in order to refill with water. Many times, you are expected to keep your cutlery between courses. There are lovely little holders sort of like what you see in Japanese restaurants for your chopsticks. This way you don’t soil the table cloth. Bread can be used as a sopper for dressing or anything that’s left on your plate, but don’t expect a bread plate.
Dessert comes after cheese and before coffee. Today I decided after ordering my coffee that I wanted something sweet and the waiter offered to take my coffee back so I could have it afterward. The dessert was lovely actually – an ice cream called Taro in a delicious Thai restaurant we like. When I asked what it was, he explained that it was a “patate douce,” which I didn’t really understood, but ordered it anyway. When we asked again, we realized it was sweet potato, which I would have translated as “pomme de terre sucrée.” You say potayto, I say potahto.
Coffee here is always in the form of an espresso. You can ask for cappuccino’s or café au laits, but best not to after a meal. In Italy, it’s actually considered offensive. Coffees with milk are reserved for breakfast only. There is one exception with the “noisette” or “macchiato” in Italian, which is an espresso with a little dollop of steamed milk. Coffees here almost always come with chocolate – mostly dark and never with a slice of lemon peel which I’ve never understood.
Back to bread, the cliché of the Frenchman with his baguette under his arm is alive and well – the beret a little less so. Baguette is also the word for chopsticks. Bread must be bought fresh every day. It is not to be kept overnight unless you have a special holder for it. My in-laws keep it in a linen sack of sorts that keeps it pretty fresh, but otherwise it will harden and dry out quickly. Sometimes I get away with freezing it, but the sooner after eating the better. When possible we try to get a demi-baquette because a whole one is a lot to go through even between two people.
There are several types of baguettes, most commonly “normal,” your basic white loaf or “tradition,” which is my favourite and a little heartier and wheatier in colour. You can get them with poppy seeds, sesame seeds, whole grain, etc. There’s nothing like timing the visit to the “boulanger” or baker, right after a fresh batch has been baked and being handed a warm baguette of your choice. My husband will start nibbling on it on the walk home. It’s a temptation hard to resist.
So it’s all of these traditions, habits, familiarities, whatever you want to call them, that make Paris unique. They are things we have accustomed to quickly and even been spoiled by. At first, you’re thrown when faced with new ways of doing things, but now it’s comforting to know what’s expected as we follow along happily with the routine and the rhythm that’s been working here since long before we arrived.
One of the things that makes Paris unique, like many older cities, is its resistance to change. In the US, we seem to be constantly adapting to the latest fad or craze whether it’s low carb dieting or reality TV. Here when it comes to eating, there are traditions that are carefully respected.
For example, there is no bread basket before the food. Bread is an accompaniment, not a snack. And this is very logical. Bread is also served alone, not with olive oil, not with butter. You can ask, but be cautious where you are first. In a classic bistro, you’re likely to get a look and on top be charged extra. Yes, butter comes at a price.
Cheese is never served as an hors d’oeuvre (unless it’s the little laughing cow or “vache qui rit” cubes). These are fun because the wrappers come with little trivia questions. Of course if you eat a lot of them, you start to see the same questions come up, but it’s fun nevertheless. Traditionally the aperitif is prepared in the salon or living room. In many French people’s homes, they will bring out all the liquor bottles available and let you make your choice from there. Don’t expect a lot of ice since it is also a rare commodity sort of like the butter.
Cocktails must be finished before passing to the table. Sometimes, but not always there will be glasses for water as well as wine. If there is only one glass, it can get tricky if you’re thirsty and have to chug down the wine in order to refill with water. Many times, you are expected to keep your cutlery between courses. There are lovely little holders sort of like what you see in Japanese restaurants for your chopsticks. This way you don’t soil the table cloth. Bread can be used as a sopper for dressing or anything that’s left on your plate, but don’t expect a bread plate.
Dessert comes after cheese and before coffee. Today I decided after ordering my coffee that I wanted something sweet and the waiter offered to take my coffee back so I could have it afterward. The dessert was lovely actually – an ice cream called Taro in a delicious Thai restaurant we like. When I asked what it was, he explained that it was a “patate douce,” which I didn’t really understood, but ordered it anyway. When we asked again, we realized it was sweet potato, which I would have translated as “pomme de terre sucrée.” You say potayto, I say potahto.
Coffee here is always in the form of an espresso. You can ask for cappuccino’s or café au laits, but best not to after a meal. In Italy, it’s actually considered offensive. Coffees with milk are reserved for breakfast only. There is one exception with the “noisette” or “macchiato” in Italian, which is an espresso with a little dollop of steamed milk. Coffees here almost always come with chocolate – mostly dark and never with a slice of lemon peel which I’ve never understood.
Back to bread, the cliché of the Frenchman with his baguette under his arm is alive and well – the beret a little less so. Baguette is also the word for chopsticks. Bread must be bought fresh every day. It is not to be kept overnight unless you have a special holder for it. My in-laws keep it in a linen sack of sorts that keeps it pretty fresh, but otherwise it will harden and dry out quickly. Sometimes I get away with freezing it, but the sooner after eating the better. When possible we try to get a demi-baquette because a whole one is a lot to go through even between two people.
There are several types of baguettes, most commonly “normal,” your basic white loaf or “tradition,” which is my favourite and a little heartier and wheatier in colour. You can get them with poppy seeds, sesame seeds, whole grain, etc. There’s nothing like timing the visit to the “boulanger” or baker, right after a fresh batch has been baked and being handed a warm baguette of your choice. My husband will start nibbling on it on the walk home. It’s a temptation hard to resist.
So it’s all of these traditions, habits, familiarities, whatever you want to call them, that make Paris unique. They are things we have accustomed to quickly and even been spoiled by. At first, you’re thrown when faced with new ways of doing things, but now it’s comforting to know what’s expected as we follow along happily with the routine and the rhythm that’s been working here since long before we arrived.
Jul 18, 2009
Vacances
n. – vacation
Temps
n – time or weather
Once July rolls around in Paris, a popular topic of conversation is where one is going on vacation. Anyone from your friends to the neighborhood baker or newsstand vendor will ask. Most French people have an average of five weeks vacation not including religious and other holidays. Summer, for the obvious reasons, is a popular time to take time off. August is practically a non-month leaving the city filled with mostly tourists – the Parisians enjoying time by the sea or in the countryside.
Summer in Paris is far more bearable than that in New York. We haven’t had a “canicule” or heat wave this year so with the windows open on both sides of the apartment, the cross breeze has been enough to keep us cool. I stress that this is a good thing because air conditioners are not commonly found.
In French the word for weather is “temps” which makes sense since it’s like temperature. However, the weather ISN'T hot or cold, but rather it MAKES hot or cold, “il fait chaud” or “il fait froid.” (The weather is also masculine hence the word “il” for he). Similarly, one IS not hot or cold, but rather HAS hot or cold, “j’ai chaud” or “j’ai froid.”
Temps is also the word for time where “heure” or hour is more specifically used for telling the time. In this case, the time IS, not MAKES or HAS. So we’re looking forward to taking some time and hoping the weather still makes nice to enjoy our vacation at the end of the month.
Temps
n – time or weather
Once July rolls around in Paris, a popular topic of conversation is where one is going on vacation. Anyone from your friends to the neighborhood baker or newsstand vendor will ask. Most French people have an average of five weeks vacation not including religious and other holidays. Summer, for the obvious reasons, is a popular time to take time off. August is practically a non-month leaving the city filled with mostly tourists – the Parisians enjoying time by the sea or in the countryside.
Summer in Paris is far more bearable than that in New York. We haven’t had a “canicule” or heat wave this year so with the windows open on both sides of the apartment, the cross breeze has been enough to keep us cool. I stress that this is a good thing because air conditioners are not commonly found.
In French the word for weather is “temps” which makes sense since it’s like temperature. However, the weather ISN'T hot or cold, but rather it MAKES hot or cold, “il fait chaud” or “il fait froid.” (The weather is also masculine hence the word “il” for he). Similarly, one IS not hot or cold, but rather HAS hot or cold, “j’ai chaud” or “j’ai froid.”
Temps is also the word for time where “heure” or hour is more specifically used for telling the time. In this case, the time IS, not MAKES or HAS. So we’re looking forward to taking some time and hoping the weather still makes nice to enjoy our vacation at the end of the month.
Jul 3, 2009
Numéros
n. – numbers
I finally have my carte-sejour. It’s been seven months since I arrived in France and in only a few months I will have to begin the process of renewing it, but it was finally ready for pick up today.
Yesterday, I called to check if it was ready because that seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I was asked for my number so I gave them my cell phone number. I got chided because they wanted the case number, which I didn’t have with me so I called again this morning from the apartment.
I like to give out my cell number because I’ve memorized how to say it. The French like to divide their numbers in units of two so while we will spell out each number individually, albeit grouped into area code, first three and then last four, here it will start with 06 (for cell numbers) or 01 for landlines (in Paris). The remaining numbers are also grouped together in two's so 7 2 becomes seventy-two. I use this as an example because once you hit the 70’s, things get complicated. Instead of having a word for seventy, the word is actually “soixante-dix.” “Soixante” means 60 and “dix” means 10. So for 70, the following increments are no longer 1, 2, 3, 4, but 11,12, 13, 14 if you see what I mean. Then there’s 80 which is actually “quatre-vingt” – “quatre” meaning four and “vingt” meaning 20. 90 is “quatre-vingt-dix,” following the same pattern as 60 into 70. By the time I get to 90, I’m usually confused so it took me a moment to decide whether to call a number on my dossier (96) quatre-vingt-six, which would have been wrong since it means 86, or quatre-vingt-seize, which was correct – 96 or four times 20 plus 16.
I was chided again for not knowing the difference and finally blurted out the right number after which I could hear the woman muttering something about Americans as she put the phone down. Anyway, the card was ready so I was happy and I felt even better after calling my husband to complain about the numbering system in his language.
Another problem I have is with telling time. Well, I know how obviously, but the French often use military time. I have to agree with the logic of it because there can be no confusion between am or pm, but again the use of the words am or pm can also avoid any confusion.
Since 1 pm becomes “treize” or 13, I get stuck on the three and think that’s what time it should be. Same thing as it continues, “quatorze” or 14 feels like it should be four and so on. Increments of 15 minutes can either be added or subtracted so it can be “onze heures et quart” (11 and a quarter) or “onze heures moins quart” (11 minus a quarter) or even dix heures quarante-cinq” (10:45) – am, of course.
Well, it’s almost “vingt heures et demi” (8 and a half) pm and I must get ready for guests who are arriving. “A toute a l’heure” (see you later).
I finally have my carte-sejour. It’s been seven months since I arrived in France and in only a few months I will have to begin the process of renewing it, but it was finally ready for pick up today.
Yesterday, I called to check if it was ready because that seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I was asked for my number so I gave them my cell phone number. I got chided because they wanted the case number, which I didn’t have with me so I called again this morning from the apartment.
I like to give out my cell number because I’ve memorized how to say it. The French like to divide their numbers in units of two so while we will spell out each number individually, albeit grouped into area code, first three and then last four, here it will start with 06 (for cell numbers) or 01 for landlines (in Paris). The remaining numbers are also grouped together in two's so 7 2 becomes seventy-two. I use this as an example because once you hit the 70’s, things get complicated. Instead of having a word for seventy, the word is actually “soixante-dix.” “Soixante” means 60 and “dix” means 10. So for 70, the following increments are no longer 1, 2, 3, 4, but 11,12, 13, 14 if you see what I mean. Then there’s 80 which is actually “quatre-vingt” – “quatre” meaning four and “vingt” meaning 20. 90 is “quatre-vingt-dix,” following the same pattern as 60 into 70. By the time I get to 90, I’m usually confused so it took me a moment to decide whether to call a number on my dossier (96) quatre-vingt-six, which would have been wrong since it means 86, or quatre-vingt-seize, which was correct – 96 or four times 20 plus 16.
I was chided again for not knowing the difference and finally blurted out the right number after which I could hear the woman muttering something about Americans as she put the phone down. Anyway, the card was ready so I was happy and I felt even better after calling my husband to complain about the numbering system in his language.
Another problem I have is with telling time. Well, I know how obviously, but the French often use military time. I have to agree with the logic of it because there can be no confusion between am or pm, but again the use of the words am or pm can also avoid any confusion.
Since 1 pm becomes “treize” or 13, I get stuck on the three and think that’s what time it should be. Same thing as it continues, “quatorze” or 14 feels like it should be four and so on. Increments of 15 minutes can either be added or subtracted so it can be “onze heures et quart” (11 and a quarter) or “onze heures moins quart” (11 minus a quarter) or even dix heures quarante-cinq” (10:45) – am, of course.
Well, it’s almost “vingt heures et demi” (8 and a half) pm and I must get ready for guests who are arriving. “A toute a l’heure” (see you later).
Bus vs. metro
argument – same meaning as in English
Yesterday evening I made a mental note not to take the bus home at rush hour again, at least not in summer. First of all the wait can take forever. There’s a little digital timer at the bus stop like you find on the subway tracks indicating how far away the bus is in minutes. The ones in the subway are far more accurate. There’s a number on top and a number on the bottom. The top number varied between one minute, then up to two minutes and even three minutes before going back to one minute. Aren’t the minutes supposed to get smaller not bigger? The bus finally arrived at the time indicated by the bottom timer that slowly counted down from 21 to one.
By then of course a line had formed, but because the French are incapable of properly forming a line the two of us who were there at the beginning now risked getting on last because of the way people placed themselves in front of us. This happens to be a personal pet peeve of mine. Back in New York, I would have a fit if someone cut in line, but it happened more rarely. I remember someone once saying to me, “You won’t get there any faster,” which clearly I’m aware of which is why I don’t feel the need to rush in front of people boarding a plane (well unless I’m terrified of having no overhead room left). But the point is on a plane, you have an assigned seat (well unless you’re flying a low cost airline). On a bus there are limited seats and especially on French buses so if you want to sit down, it helps to get on first.
I wasn’t able to get on the bus first, but I did manage to get in the bus first because while the person who cut in front of me was paying with his navigo card, I paid with a ticket therefore blocking his way. I found a nice seat at the front of the bus and despite the fact that they’re supposed to be reserved for people who really need them I sat down without guilt since the bus wasn’t that full.
The ride started well. There was no “circulation” or traffic and the bus was surprisingly cool despite the 90-degree weather. We picked up more passengers and then the young woman got on the bus. She just came right up to me and asked for my seat. “Je suis enceinte,” she said (I’m pregnant). She looked as pregnant as I do – I’m not. But of course, I got up and now that the bus had more people, I had nowhere else to sit. As I stood there glaring at her – yes, I glared at a pregnant woman – I thought of my response the next time someone says that to me and I came up with two. “Moi aussi.” (I am, too) and if I’m feeling particularly cheeky “Ca n’est pas ma faute.“ (It’s not my fault).
More people crowded on and the bus got hotter and hotter. I was able to secure another seat, but it was facing the opposite direction, something I don’t like since I have a tendency to get carsick. So I was relieved when it finally deposited my now sweaty, cranky self at home. It took twice as long as the subway would have and clearly only made me irritable so the next time I’m on the metro, I will try to channel that moment and appreciate it a bit more.
Yesterday evening I made a mental note not to take the bus home at rush hour again, at least not in summer. First of all the wait can take forever. There’s a little digital timer at the bus stop like you find on the subway tracks indicating how far away the bus is in minutes. The ones in the subway are far more accurate. There’s a number on top and a number on the bottom. The top number varied between one minute, then up to two minutes and even three minutes before going back to one minute. Aren’t the minutes supposed to get smaller not bigger? The bus finally arrived at the time indicated by the bottom timer that slowly counted down from 21 to one.
By then of course a line had formed, but because the French are incapable of properly forming a line the two of us who were there at the beginning now risked getting on last because of the way people placed themselves in front of us. This happens to be a personal pet peeve of mine. Back in New York, I would have a fit if someone cut in line, but it happened more rarely. I remember someone once saying to me, “You won’t get there any faster,” which clearly I’m aware of which is why I don’t feel the need to rush in front of people boarding a plane (well unless I’m terrified of having no overhead room left). But the point is on a plane, you have an assigned seat (well unless you’re flying a low cost airline). On a bus there are limited seats and especially on French buses so if you want to sit down, it helps to get on first.
I wasn’t able to get on the bus first, but I did manage to get in the bus first because while the person who cut in front of me was paying with his navigo card, I paid with a ticket therefore blocking his way. I found a nice seat at the front of the bus and despite the fact that they’re supposed to be reserved for people who really need them I sat down without guilt since the bus wasn’t that full.
The ride started well. There was no “circulation” or traffic and the bus was surprisingly cool despite the 90-degree weather. We picked up more passengers and then the young woman got on the bus. She just came right up to me and asked for my seat. “Je suis enceinte,” she said (I’m pregnant). She looked as pregnant as I do – I’m not. But of course, I got up and now that the bus had more people, I had nowhere else to sit. As I stood there glaring at her – yes, I glared at a pregnant woman – I thought of my response the next time someone says that to me and I came up with two. “Moi aussi.” (I am, too) and if I’m feeling particularly cheeky “Ca n’est pas ma faute.“ (It’s not my fault).
More people crowded on and the bus got hotter and hotter. I was able to secure another seat, but it was facing the opposite direction, something I don’t like since I have a tendency to get carsick. So I was relieved when it finally deposited my now sweaty, cranky self at home. It took twice as long as the subway would have and clearly only made me irritable so the next time I’m on the metro, I will try to channel that moment and appreciate it a bit more.
Jul 2, 2009
Verlan
n. – a type of slang
Verlan is somewhat the equivalent of Pig Latin in French. Basically you take the first syllable of a word and add it to the end spelling it phonetically. So “fête” or party becomes “teuf.” “Femme” or woman becomes “meuf.” It’s fairly basic, but if used aggressively, can be difficult for a non-native speaker to follow. The word verlan itself is the inverse if you will of the word “l’envers,” which means upside down. It’s ironic actually because verlan is really more like the inverse, which is “l’inverse.” My husband was trying to explain the difference to me – well I know the difference between upside down and inverse, but he used the example of putting my shirt on upside down. I said I would be more likely to put it on inside out than upside down which also appears to be described by the same word.
The other day I saw a poster for “Pesctacles” and of course the obvious English word came to mind. What I found odd about it was that it looked like something geared for children. My husband explained that children often confuse the word for show which is “spectacle” with “pestacle” – almost a form of juvenile verlan. It reminded me of a friend’s three year old niece who can’t yet differentiate the soft “s” from the hard “ck” in socks so it becomes cocks. She says it’s pretty hilarious when she’s running around the house looking for her cocks!
Socks in French are “chaussettes,” shoes “chaussures” and slippers “chaussons” so that makes it pretty easy to remember. “Talons” is the word for heels where “griffe” is the word for talons. Perhaps that’s where the word griffin comes from. “Bottes” is the word for boots, also fairly easy, “baskets,” the word for sports shoes and can be applied to any kind of sport. “Collants” is the word for stockings, tights or panty-hose. “Slip” is actually the word for men’s underwear or “calçons” if they’re boxers. Women’s underwear are called “strings” (if they are) or “culottes” (if they’re not). And my favorite is “soutien-gorge” for bra. “Gorge” is the word for throat, “soutien” from the verb “soutenir” to support so it’s as if you’re supporting the throat all the way down from the breasts!
“Costume” is not the word for something you would wear at Halloween, but rather the word for suit. “Déguisement” (coming from the word disguise) is the word for costume. “Vest” is actually the word for jacket and if you say “être de la jaquette” it’s the same thing as saying he’s a friend of Dorothy’s. A vest is called a “gilet” and it gets easier again from there. A cardigan is “un cardigan,” a pullover, “un pullover” and a t-shirt, “un t-shirt.”
“Pantalon” is also fairly obvious for pants although here it's singular so really a pant like “un jean” for a jean or jeans. “Jupe” means skirt. “Chemise” means shirt, “manteau” means coat and “écharpe” is scarf. “Chapeau” is hat and “gants” are gloves. All of these things you would store in your “armoire,” closet, in your “tiroirs,” drawers and you would take a look at yourself in your “miroir,” mirror when you’re dressed. And then off you go to your teuf or your pestacle dressed to the nines or “sur ton trente-et-un (as if dressed for the 31st or New Year’s Eve). Have fun!
Verlan is somewhat the equivalent of Pig Latin in French. Basically you take the first syllable of a word and add it to the end spelling it phonetically. So “fête” or party becomes “teuf.” “Femme” or woman becomes “meuf.” It’s fairly basic, but if used aggressively, can be difficult for a non-native speaker to follow. The word verlan itself is the inverse if you will of the word “l’envers,” which means upside down. It’s ironic actually because verlan is really more like the inverse, which is “l’inverse.” My husband was trying to explain the difference to me – well I know the difference between upside down and inverse, but he used the example of putting my shirt on upside down. I said I would be more likely to put it on inside out than upside down which also appears to be described by the same word.
The other day I saw a poster for “Pesctacles” and of course the obvious English word came to mind. What I found odd about it was that it looked like something geared for children. My husband explained that children often confuse the word for show which is “spectacle” with “pestacle” – almost a form of juvenile verlan. It reminded me of a friend’s three year old niece who can’t yet differentiate the soft “s” from the hard “ck” in socks so it becomes cocks. She says it’s pretty hilarious when she’s running around the house looking for her cocks!
Socks in French are “chaussettes,” shoes “chaussures” and slippers “chaussons” so that makes it pretty easy to remember. “Talons” is the word for heels where “griffe” is the word for talons. Perhaps that’s where the word griffin comes from. “Bottes” is the word for boots, also fairly easy, “baskets,” the word for sports shoes and can be applied to any kind of sport. “Collants” is the word for stockings, tights or panty-hose. “Slip” is actually the word for men’s underwear or “calçons” if they’re boxers. Women’s underwear are called “strings” (if they are) or “culottes” (if they’re not). And my favorite is “soutien-gorge” for bra. “Gorge” is the word for throat, “soutien” from the verb “soutenir” to support so it’s as if you’re supporting the throat all the way down from the breasts!
“Costume” is not the word for something you would wear at Halloween, but rather the word for suit. “Déguisement” (coming from the word disguise) is the word for costume. “Vest” is actually the word for jacket and if you say “être de la jaquette” it’s the same thing as saying he’s a friend of Dorothy’s. A vest is called a “gilet” and it gets easier again from there. A cardigan is “un cardigan,” a pullover, “un pullover” and a t-shirt, “un t-shirt.”
“Pantalon” is also fairly obvious for pants although here it's singular so really a pant like “un jean” for a jean or jeans. “Jupe” means skirt. “Chemise” means shirt, “manteau” means coat and “écharpe” is scarf. “Chapeau” is hat and “gants” are gloves. All of these things you would store in your “armoire,” closet, in your “tiroirs,” drawers and you would take a look at yourself in your “miroir,” mirror when you’re dressed. And then off you go to your teuf or your pestacle dressed to the nines or “sur ton trente-et-un (as if dressed for the 31st or New Year’s Eve). Have fun!
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