C’est ça – sweet as
Some French idioms are guaranteed to bring a smile to your dial.
They’re not fancy, you probably won’t study them in French class and the person saying them to you will think nothing of it.
You, the novice French speaker, will notice because at their heart these phrases all mean one thing: “You are making sense to me”.
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The topsy-turvy way many French sentences are structured is a major handbrake for lazy learners like me.
For instance, you can say: “I gave the light sabre to Chewbacca,” [J’ai donné le lightsaber à Chewbacca] but it’s much cooler to say “I it to him gave,” [Je le lui ai donné ].
If you complain that Chewbacca won’t give it back to you, you have to do it Yoda-style: “He to me it give back will not,” [Il ne me le redonne pas].
Now you are speaking French.
Smack!
That’s a slap on the face.
Pow! That’s a lot of shouty words I haven’t learned in French class.
Bif! That’s another slap.
Nothing this exciting ever happened at school drop-off back home.
Oh là là, the French like to kiss.
Yes, I knew this before I came here, but there are times it takes you by surprise.
The other evening I noticed a French policewoman kiss a couple of stroppy looking teenagers on both cheeks before taking out her notebook and questioning them. Clearly something had gone down as there were a few police milling around and the smell of something distinctly weedy in the air.
It made me smile for a long time – the idea of kissing your suspects before you start interrogating them.
Hanging out for a dinner invitation from the neighbours.
We’ve been here three weeks so I’ll give them another couple of weeks before I pop over with a bottle of chardy, packet of chips and a couple of kids.
French snake displaying gentlemanly behaviour
“Mu-uum….”
The distant call from Large was unusually tremulous.
“Muuuuuuum. There’s a snake.”
I admit it. I rolled my eyes.
I looked at Sabbatical Man and we both thought the same thing. It’s a stick. It’s a trick. It’s a toy. It’s a joke. Whatever it is, it is not a snake.
This is spring like I’ve never seen it.
Each morning we wake up to find another tree has burst into colour or a fresh crop of daisies or irises or roses has arrived. Just three weeks ago, when we arrived, everything was dormant.
Now, every plant rustles with life – lizards and geckos, occasional squirrels, millipedes, enormous ants, huge flat-looking lady-bug creatures.
The light here is sharp, bright and clear – something we’re used to in New Zealand but is unusual in Europe.
It is quite lovely.
There were a lot of things I was hoping to do during the kids’ first week at school in France.
Long, pointless walks, lingering lunches, afternoon naps, hours of reading..
I did not expect to spend a week buying stationery.
“Quoi?”
It happens every time I get cocky and imagine I can speak French.
Someone screws up their face, lets their mouth fall open and peers into my eyes searching for meaning.
“La soupe. Ou se trouve la soupe? [Where is the soup?]” I said again.
