FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

 
Photo of front porch, where Mom and I will soon have coffee. The wind blew off the makeshift curtain (an attempt to shade the area at lunchtime...)

la chaise-longue (shez- lowng)

    : lawn chair 

Elle est dans le jardin, en train de lire sur sa chaise-longue. She's in the garden, reading on her lawn chair. 

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

"I could hear you girls giggling all night long!"  Mom called out.

I looked up from the flower bed, where I had been experimenting with an ice plant (could one really stick a griffe de sorcière in the ground.. and it would grow?). "Good morning Mom!" I chirped, waving the experimental cutting.

A second-story window framed my mom and the morning sun dazzled her eyes, which sparkled with life. She had her silver hair tied back and her olive complexion was as fresh as the morning dew that covered the plants beneath me. I could tell Mom was full of energy today. Perhaps we could do something special to mark this, her second-to-last day in France before returning home to Mexico?

"Come have your tea with me?" I stood up, shook the dirt from my hands and pointed to the picnic table. 

Mom was down in a flash and we were reliving the previous evening, in which I had the pleasure of spending time with Ann and Katia, a writer and a beloved podcaster. I rarely have the occasion to speak in person with people who do similar work to my own, and it was interesting to talk about the highs and lows of creative work.

Mom loved my friends and I assured her that they found her just as endearing. "I'm sorry I talked too much..." Mom apologized, as we took our cups of tea and walked from the front porch to the meadow, below, to have a look at all the plants among the olive trees. 

"Don't worry about it!" I said, feeling a little ashamed for having elbowed Mom the night before. Having realized she was three-quarters of the way through her life story, I wondered: had Mom gotten to the part where she was rescued? Strapped onto a lawn chair and lowered onto a Mexican panga boat to be transferred from the remote fishing village to a city hospital? Ironically, that would be the beginning of her nightmare.).

I was sorry to have been disrespectful to my Mom and regretted my words from the night before (along with a few other things I'd said during her four week visit to France). And now Mom would be leaving soon. Had we said and done all we had wished to say and do?

"I just want to lie here in the garden," Mom said, "here under this olive tree. I'll go get the other lawn chair."

"Stay there! I'll get it for you!" I dashed off, past the wild fennel and the bright red poppies, to the terrain de pétanque--where those "witches fingernails" I'd been transplanting grew--and snatched up the chaise longue.

We arranged the lawn chairs along the slope, until we were looking up at one of the ancient olive trees. "I'd like this one to be mine," Mom suggested. "Could you put my name on it?"

It was a lovely idea. I could then sit by the tree and think of Mom while she was an ocean away....

"Look over there," I said, pointing to a figuier I'd discovered the day before. The little fig tree (really a series of shoots from an ancient trunk) had been completely overrun by an invasive bush. The night before, I'd gotten the long-handled shears and freed it of its leafy invader and could now admire it from where Mom and I were sitting. "OK, I said, this one is Jules! And do you know what I've named the little fig tree?"

Mom's eyes were bright with curiosity. 

"Newton!"

We sat there laughing beneath the olive tree, remembering yesteryear--before one of us moved to Mexico and the other to France. Back when we shared tall glasses of milk and those favorite fig-filled cookies.

"Fig Newtons..." Mom said, reminiscent.

"I'll call him "Newey" for short." I winked at my mom, who smiled as we gazed at our trees, affectionately. 

As the wind blew through the trees' branches, causing the leaves to rustle, our conversation carried on, lackadaisically. I no longer hoped we were making the most of our time, but knew that this cozy moment was the yesteryear of tomorrow--as comforting and sweet as those fig-filled cookies.

*    *    *

Making memories with Mom. After Mom befriended this guy, she handed me the ball to play.






Don't tell Smokey and Braise... We'll bring them the next time!


Tidying up the house before tidying up ourselves... and heading out to explore another seaside town...


Mom, "la capitaine", at the port in La Ciotat. I think it's time to name Mom's fish purse à la Mr Sacks. Suggestions welcome in the comments box!


At the seaside market in La Ciotat, I bought a jujube tree and a few other natives to plant in our garden, beside the Mediterranean strawberry tree, or arbusier. What are some other local trees and fruit-bearing shrubs that you would suggest? Meantime, Mom and I are busy trying to identify more than trees... but all of the edible weeds and medicinal plants here in the olive field or meadow: plantain, fumeterre, fennel, lucerne, chardon de marie, pissenlit... and heaps of thyme and rosemary.


I'm going to miss you so much, Mom. Come back soon! And thank you for being my sweet maman. While her adoring husband is waiting for her back in Mexico, help me wish Mom bon voyage, here in the comments box.

France and Monaco Rentals: short-term holiday rental properties throughout France and Monaco. Photos here.

 

bavarder, (bah var day)
 

    :to chat, chatter, blab

Learning to Chit-Chat in French... by Lynn McBride

Here’s a common dilemma for French learners, maybe it’s happened to you. You brush up on your grammar and vocabulary  and you’re feeling pretty good about your spoken French. Then you encounter a real live French person. Oops! They talk BACK! And expect you to understand them!

Typically the hardest part of language study is to find enough opportunities to bavarder with a native. And to do what all students of French at any level need to do over and over in order to learn: get out there and make mistakes!

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We expats know a lot about that. Take, for example, my British friend Pete who meant to ask at the hardware store for 10 meters of chêne (oak), but instead asked for 10 meters of chien (dog). Then there was the time I needed 3 kilos of salmon for a big party (6.6 pounds) and instead asked Monsieur le poissonierfor 3 kilometres of salmon (1.6  MILES). “Madame,” he said, “just what sort of party are you having?”
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Learning to actually converse is the main reason most of us study a language. So what’s an armchair Anglo to do? In researching my book, How to Learn a New Language with a Used Brain, I found lots of new options for talking with NATIVE speakers, which is the very best way to learn.

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My favorite solution is one you may know about: Join the Alliance Française. They have chapters in cities all over the world, and they offer language lessons, conversation groups, and social events with native speakers. Americans can also go to to Meetup.com, where you can look for a French conversation group in your area, or easily start one. The French department at your local university is a great place to find native speaking tutors or conversation groups.

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Remember when you were a kid and had a pen pal? You can now have a French pen pal, in a whole new way.  Same concept, but you use Skype, Facetime, email, live chat, or the phone to bavarder. You will be both teacher and student; the French speakers want to learn English, so you alternate languages. My Language Exchange is an example of a site where you can find partners. View their photos, read their stories, and pick a partner who interests you. I’ve got many more such sites listed in my book, plus reviews of packaged programs that feature all kids of interactive learning on the internet.

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The coolest idea for live talking practice is one that’s taking France and England by a storm, and I hope it will come to the states. It’s called Franglish, and it uses the “speed dating” model for language learning. Franglish events are held regularly at cafés or bars.  You sit down with a French person and chat in French 7 minutes, then in English for 7 minutes, then you rotate to a new partner.  What fun! If you’re traveling to Europe and want to try it, be sure to book in advance.  And I hope you’ll check out my new book, which has MANY more ideas for you on learning French as an adult, from beginners on up to advanced students.  Bon courage, and I hope to see you at the book release party!
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PS  If you have any famous language bloopers, please add them to the COMMENTS today, to make us all feel a little better about our own! Click here to comment.

***

Thanks, Lynn, for this fun and helpful post on chatting in French. Reading your book How to Learn a New Language with a Used Brain was a wonderful refreshment for me. After writing about French words for ten years, I sometimes experience the "shoemaker's children syndrome" wherein my own French is lacking while I'm teaching others vocabulary! I would highly recommend your book to anyone wanting to recapture the fun and excitement of language learning. Best wishes to you on this, your book launch day! --Kristin

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A favorite photo of my Mom, who I'll have the chance to spend French Mother's Day with, on Sunday!


Are you noticing a "cape" theme? That's because my Mom yearns to fly....


 Uncle Jacques came over to help clear the olive orchard of its felled branches. It was a massive two-day job. After, Jacques relaxed with Mom, enjoying photos of her home and her animals in Mexico.



Mom, making friends on the beach. To leave a comment, click here.

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I'm having the time of my life with my wonderful mom! I love this innocent, serendipitous photo with Mom and her little fish purse. The sign says: "You are at the right place. Look no further." Vous êtes au bon endroit. Ne cherchez plus. 


peuchère (peuh-sher)

    : poor dear, poor thing

Peuchère is a Provençal expression of sympathy, used to indicate compassion for someone: Peuchère elle doit avoir mal au dos! Poor thing. Her back must ache!

Peuchère may also rank among the top Ten Things Not to Say to A Disabled Person. Can you list some others? Comment... or read on in the following story.


A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

I was standing in the supermarket checkout line with my daughter when I saw a man approach in a motorized cart. A familiar dilemma returned: did I offer him my place in line--or risk making the man feel pitied?

Over the years I have struggled with the subject--ever since watching a man in a wheelchair open the door of his car (driver's side). A friend and I were across the street when we noticed the wheelchair-to-car transition--only each of us had a completely different reaction.

My instinct was to wait and see how the transition unfolded. If the man needed help, we could then offer it. But my friend fumed. "WHY ISN'T ANYONE HELPING HIM?" She shook her head angrily as she stood watching.

Her outrage made me feel ashamed. Had I not reacted fast enough? Would I have reacted in time? But I hadn't wanted the man to feel pitied. I hadn't been sure how to respond, I only knew I would be there if the man needed help. Meantime, the man managed to hike himself up into his car, taking with him the folded wheelchair. No assistance had been needed after all. But could the man's experience have been smoother had my friend and I intervened? Or might we have slowed or even put a snag in his familiar routine?

Fast forward ten years. Youtube. I happened upon a rant wherein a middle-aged man in a wheelchair complained about how people over-respond to his condition. "Can I get the door for you?" said the man (paralyzed from a bike accident), and the cynicism in his voice as he mimicked the modern-day good Samaritans made me even more uncertain of how to assist--or how NOT to assist--a disabled person. It seemed you were damned if you did, damned if you didn't.  But how to get past the poor them/poor me (all I wanted to do was help) syndrome in time to help out when needed?

Standing there in the checkout line I tried to be discreet while figuring out whether the man-on-wheels needed help. The answer came swiftly and easily when I looked up and noticed the sign depicting a pregnant lady. Aha! This was the caisse prioritaire line. It would be perfectly normal for me to offer my place in line without making the man feel pitied.  But the woman in front of me was about to fall into the same trap I had hoped to avoid.

"Peuchère!" she declared. "Il me fait de la peine!" she said, explaining why she had just given up her place in line, too. I wanted to shush her up so that the man wouldn't hear her "I feel so sorry for him!" remark... but who was I to shush another's expression of compassion? Her sympathy was sincere and mimicked my own sentiments as we watched the hard-of-hearing senior hand over his thread-bare change purse to the cashier so that the latter could fish out the somme due.

That's when we watched the cashier turn the purse upside down and shake it. Oh no! The man was 4 euros 36 cents short! Suddenly the "peuchère" woman went silent, opting to arrange and rearrange her pile of groceries along the tapis roulant. It didn't mean she was indifferent to the man's dilemma; she was probably doing what many do, French or otherwise: allowing the man privacy as he settled his finances.

But, given the purse's upturned state, it didn't seem likely that finances would settle on their own accord! I looked around nervously, and finally whispered to the woman ahead of me. "We ought to be able to rustle up the rest?"

The French weren't stingy, they just didn't seem to have the "pay it forward" reflex. "On doit pouvoir trouver ça," We've got to be able to come up with that," I hinted to the other customers in line. Next, I watched as wallets flew open and French fingers went to work rifling through the contents of their money purses. The collective reaction was so touching that I didn't notice, right off, how the contents of my own purse were as spare as those of the man we were trying to assist....

"Jackie!" I whispered, "do you have any change? I can't believe it," I said, searching through my wallet, "I don't have enough!" And there I'd gone suggesting that "we" pay the difference! Only, as things were, I'd given the job of debt-paying to the others in line! No matter how many times I rooted through the change purse, all I could come up with were pennies. The ten euros I'd been searching for was in my jeans pocket... back at home!

"No worries," the woman in front of me said. "I think I've got it!" I watched as she handed over enough coins to pay off the man's modest debt. I noticed the relief and happiness on her face. Whereas she had initially frozen up allowing the man to deal with his dilemma in privacy, she now had unwittingly experienced the "Pay it Forward" principle--and the good feelings it brings to all involved! The movement was gaining ground in other countries, but I'd yet to see strangers paying for strangers in France.

I watched as the senior-on-wheels gazed up at his lovely benefactor. "You are an angel," he said to the woman. And by the way his face beamed with light you'd think he was the very same.


FRENCH VOCABULARY

peuchère = poor thing
il me fait de la peine = I feel sorry for him
la somme due = amount owed
le tapis roulant = conveyor belt, carousel
on doit pouvoir trouver ça = we should be able to come up with that

a couple of perruches, or parakeets, camped out in Sanary sur Mer

Today's word is yet another example of how I learn English from the French... 

bivouaquer (bee-vwack-ay)

    : to bivouac

un bivouac = an improvised camp site. An individual sleeping shelter under the stars (or more often rain clouds) made out of natural materials or very rudimentary supplies. (from Wiki Answers)

Question ...but just what does "to bivouac" mean?
Answer: to make a temporary encampment somewhere.

Audio File: Listen to Jean-Marc: Download MP3 or Wav file
Bivouaquer, c'est s'installer sommairement dans un lieu naturel pour y manger ou dormir.
Bivouaquer... it means to settle oneself simply (in minimalist conditions) into a natural environment and then to eat (picnic) or to sleep there.

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

I thought today's word had nothing to do with the goings on around here at the moment. My plan was to feature the word--overheard yesterday at a picnic--and then post a few unrelated photos from Mom's visit. (I've promised to take some time away from posting and email, in order to spend as much time with Mom as possible).

Only, when I went to look up the word "bivouac", I learned it is the same in English. Zut! That means I have to find another word to share... On the other hand, maybe I am not the only one unfamiliar with this funny word bivouaquer, a verb that is alive and well in France (I must have heard it half a dozen times, yesterday, as the French are already talking about vacation plans, which, for some, will include roughing it, ie, bivouaquer.)

Meantime, life's not so rough for Mom at the moment. She is temporarily encamped--or en train de bivouaquer--in the room that was to be my office... (I've grown fond of this cozy corner of my bedroom and continue to write from here). Off to see what she is up to now....

Thank you for reading and for the encouraging and poignant comments you sent in, following last Friday's post. If there are slumps, doubts, victories, embarrassments, yearnings, and hi-falutin' aspirations in a writer's journey--your supportive comments even out the bumpy road, helping me to see the horizon in time to renew my commitment to simply settle down and write my heart out.

Amicalement,

Kristin 

To comment, click here. I leave you now with a few snapshots from Week One with Mom...

She made it--all the way from Mexico! Here is Mom's welcome party fan club. From left to right: 17-year-old Max, 4-year-old Smokey, Mom, Smokey's mom, Braise, and 15-year-old Jackie. I told Mom to get up off the paw-stained floor, but she was so happy to be surrounded by ALL her loved ones that she could have cared less about the dirt.

Some bivouac!  Mom loves her room, where she can see and hear all of the activity in the courtyard. At night she loves to watch the stars that twinkle over the Mediterranean Sea.


Mom's bags arrived 24 hours after she did. We shared my make-up and a chat before heading to Sanary sur Mer for lunch. That's Mama Braise, on the left. (A funny aside: Mom is wearing my red pajama pants. I wouldn't notice this until AFTER we finished lunch at the cafe and a stroll around Sanary. Her baggage arrived later that afternoon :-)

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Hotels in France. Visit EasyToBook.com to find the cheapest hotels in almost all France cities.

It's fun to walk along the port in Sanary sur Mer, where all the historic fishing boats "les pointus" are lined up. Many of the wooden boats have signs displaying the historic characteristics of the modest vessels, some nearly 100 years old.


Mom's purse. It looks like Jean-Marc's humble side kick, Mr Sacks, has competition!


Time for a siesta. But first, enjoy the fancy ironwork on this campanile.

Me and Mom. "Just pretend it's my stand." Mom said, after a local artist offered Mom her seat for the photo. 

More photos coming soon. Meantime, I'm making the most of my time with Mom. This newsletter/blog may be a little sporadic in the coming weeks--as we slow down our day and celebrate.

When you shop for any item at Amazon, using the following links, you help to support this free French journal. Merci beaucoup!

1. French-themed tote bag "Royale Louis No IV". Click here.
2. Listen to Carla Bruni's Little French Songs.  
3. Blossoming in Provence - a book of stories from this ten-year-old blog.

Earlier this week, on Facebook, I posted Snoopy's message (even if I didn't believe a word of it): Chaque fois que tu trouves de l'humour dans une situation difficile, tu gagnes.


une broutille (broo-tee)

    a trifle, a small matter, a little thing, nothing

Audio File: Listen to Max Download MP3 or Wav file
 

Marseilles, 1994. Would you like to add a caption? See the comments box :-)

Retro Citroen Kitchen apron... one idea for Mother's Day. Click here to order.

Larkspur? These are not lavender... and they're not the lily of the valley (a big subject today in France). Read on... 

retour du bonheur (reuh-toor-doo-buh-neur)

    : return of happiness

Audio File: listen to the following words: Download MP3 or Wav file

D'après le langage des fleurs, le muguet signifie "retour du bonheur".
According to the language of flowers, lily of the valley signifies "return of happiness".

Great book on how to pronounce French words: 
Exercises in French Phonics


A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE

by Kristin Espinasse

My daughter tells me that today is the fête du travail, wink, wink, and doesn't that mean we get the day off? 

Wink, wink, I'd say it does.

Click here to see what the rest of France is doing today, a day that symbolizes the return of happiness: le premier mai

How to keep your roof tiles from blowing off (or how to beat Mr Mistral at his windy game!) To comment on this edition, click here.

• Love to read and cook? Win a cooking class in Paris and celebrate Ann Mah's new food memoir! What better excuse to plan a trip to France? http://woobox.com/o47ymy

When you shop for any item at Amazon, using the following links, you help to support this free French journal. Merci beaucoup!

1. "French envelope" tote bag (pictured above)
2. Check out Carla Bruni's Little French Songs.