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.
