FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

The island of Port-Cros, where those who love nature roam.... This protected site, off the coast of Hyères, is a protected paradise. Put this one on your bucket list -- unless you suffer from island fever or prefer to lick windows ("shop", that is) when on vacation. Only one boutique on this island--and it sells foutas. Read on.

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Today's word is woven within the following post, where you'll find many more useful French (whoops! Arabic terms!) You'll be happy you learned them when next you find yourself strolling down a southern French beach. Among the chant of the cicada and the crashing waves, these Arabic words will sing-song along--as natives in the South of France shoot the breeze, using words that have naturalized just as certain foreigners have. Tee-hee!

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

If you think you learn a lot by reading a language blog... you'll learn even more by devouring the comments readers post. Voilà, so much for my sneaky way of alimenting my own français! 

This morning I sneaked into the comments to learn a thing or two or three when I spotted Hani's commentaire:

"Has the word fouta been used long in France? It is actually an Arabic word meaning towel..."

Aha! So fouta means "towel". Well now that makes sense! Delurking in time to write my own comment, I thanked Hani for the insight... only my message ended up in my blog's spam filter! (I'll fish it out in a sec... For some reason, Bill's and Julie's comments often end up there, too. And this morning Odile was trapped in the filter! Ah well, if I find any other comments--or yours there--I'll fish them out too. So much for the disappearing comments caper!) 

Meantime, Hani's comment inspired today's post: a list of oft-heard Arabic words used here in the south of France (and perhaps beyond--in Lyon or in Paris?). And because I've been meaning to share photos from Jean-Marc's and my recent getaway, I'll marry the vocab words with the photos. The terms won't necessarily match the images, but just like a good couple they will compliment each other :-)

 Speaking of couples, here we go--

Jean-Marc and Mr. Sacks on the Ferry to Port-Cros. One of these guys has lost weight--and it ain't saggy ol' Mr. Sacks!

Yes, look who joined us on our getaway: Mr. Sacks! No, that's not a cabas, that's my husband's beloved, takes-with-him-every-where bag--the adorable Monsieur Sacks (see him in all his glory here!).

1. cabas = shopping basket

And this just may be Mrs. Sacks. (Notice the blue Hawaiian beach bag--she appeared here, too, hidden somewhere in the "reunited with ex husband" post.) Mrs. Sacks was a gift from Reader Fred Caswell (hi! Fred!), who brought her to me at a New York city book signing. He also brought his lovely wife Nancy (Bonjour, Nancy!). See, Fred, I really do use the soulful bag--even though you apologized when you offered it, wondering whether it would be of any use. Useful? It's a staple! Long live Mrs. Sacks!

By the way, those aren't babouches, those are loafers on my feet: 

2. babouche = slippers

The island's épicerie or grocer's or mini-market is, as the sign says, "at the top of the stairs, to the right"

 We didn't see any toubibs on the island. Had we seen a doctor, my guess is he or she would look like this--for all the natives wore shorts and loose-fitting tops--and all the locals were barefoot or pieds nus, which gave them an even more je n'ai pas un souci au monde (or not a care in the world) look.

3. toubib = doctor

A dump, a hole, a godforsaken place? I think you'll agree that the village of Port-Cros is no bled! 

4. bled = the "boondocks" as we say back home, or a remote--or rural--place

I hope Brian is reading. My sister's beau loves cars and would appreciate this cross between an American jeep and a skateboard--designed by the British Motor Corporation.

Port-Cros does have a little in common with a bled paumé (a one-horse town), in that no cars are allowed on the island--apart from the cheery Mini Mokes or low-riding island jeeps! Bikes, or vélos, are not allowed either, as Jean-Marc learned. All the more reason to enjoy one of the many protected sentiers, or hiking trails.

"Would you like to go to Plage du Sud or return to Port Man," Jean-Marc offers. 
"C'est kif-kif". It's all the same," I answer. All the beaches are beautiful!

5. kif-kif = a fun term that means "the same thing", or "c'est pareil" or "six of one half a dozen of the other"

It's hard to resist capturing these figuiers de barbarie, or prickly pears--much easier to take by photo than by hand. The island of Port-Cros is a parc national, filled with interesting plants above, and sealife, below. As for dogs, or clebs, the sign on the ferry boat mentioned they were not allowed on the island. 

6. clebs = (slang) dog

Well then, I wonder where this gal came from? Hmm? Hmm?And all her friends that decorated the windows and lounged beside the café chairs where the tourists sipped steaming cups of kawa. 

7. kawa = coffee

I wanted to take a little space, just un chouïa, to show you this seagrass called "posidonia" that is found on the island and in the calanques nearby our home...

8. chouïa = a little

The posidonia piles up high along the seashore--making a comfy natural mattress for an afternoon siesta: perfect for forgetting about those nagging fardeaux awaiting the tourist back home....

9. fardeau = burden or emotional toll

Speaking of burdens, a violet tribe, or smala, tormented the seaside. Here we see a member of the jellyfish family... two of which bit me! Are people who swim in these waters brave--or seriously maboule?

10. smala = tribe or large family
11. maboule = mad, crazy

Cash, or flouze, would have been useless as there were no pharmacies on the rugged coast. So I remembered a tip I'd learned from one of the info boards at the tourist office...

12. flouze = cash or "bread"

How to Treat a Jellyfish Sting

1. rinse with salt water (this is convenient...)
2. apply sand to the area (hot sand is best) ; massage gently
3. to remove tentacles: find a flat-sided object to scrape off the sand plastered over the wound (a credit card would have been ideal, but I used a sharp-ended pebble).

Tip! Don't do what I did: When my stings were not apparent, I began to doubt whether or not I'd truly had a painful run-in with the jellyfish. Worse, I began to apologize for being such a big baby! Just in case, I went ahead and half-heartedly treated the invisible area, using the protocol mentioned above.

A day or two later things weren't so invisible. Two large bumpy wounds were unmistakable--one on my ankle was the size of a sand dollar, the other a "slap" across the hand -- both deep red and itchy as can be! So when in doubt -- go ahead and thoroughly treat the area, making sure all tentacles have been removed. 

I leave you with one last word, close to my heart: taboulé!

My mother-in-law, Michèle-France (born in Marocco), makes the very best. And because she is moving this week, I'll end this post and say "see you next week"... 

...insha'Allah (if God be willing).

Kristin

A garde-manger or dish protecter--perfect for keeping the winged ones out of the taboulé!  

Comments  and corrections welcome here. I'd love to know if you enjoyed these photos and words--or have come across other Arabic words adopted by the French. Thanks for joining the discussion here in the comments box.

 New to this language blog? You might enjoy Blossoming in Provence. Here's a Amazon review from Debnance at Readerbuzz:

I read Espinasse’s earlier book, Words in a French Life, a few years ago and liked the way she connected stories from her new life in the south of France with French vocabulary lessons. Blossoming in Provence is more of the same. And equally inviting.

The heavy object, to the right, looks like "une meule" or grindstone. Wonder what it used to grind? There are plenty of wild olive trees on the island, but no local olive oil, it seems....