Fantabulositastic

Gah!

Just came back from the IRFFLE party, to celebrate what is now a (nearly) finished semester.

Such a wonderful display of talent from around the world. We had a group dance session to "Elle Me Dit" by MIKA, some wonderful Italian songs sung (I hear that the guy who sang the songs for the party had been singing in an apartment a couple days ago. The neighbors came knocking to ask who was singing so well... dang) and various other acts.

But two in particular stand out for me. One was two girls from Brazil who demonstrated the samba (sporting giant feathers and high heels). They invited up others onto the stage, and it turned into a dance off between some dudes from Ghana and the girlies from Brazil. So wonderful. And then we had a bellydancer from Jordan. Having witnessed professional bellydancing in El Salvador and in the States, I can say with at least a little confidence that she was easily at that level. She was almost forcibly brought back for an encore by the gentlemen of the crowd.

Naughty line uttered at a party which I had the privilege of witnessing and remembering.

(Guy reaches for the wine bottle. It is 2 am.)
Lady friend: Tu peux boire encore? (You can still drink?)
Guy friend: Bah oui je veux voir ton corps. (Why yes I want to see your body)

For those of you non-francophones, the humor is that the two lines rhyme, and it is a very clever take on the spanish accent, which often confuses Vs and Bs.

#foreignaccentsaregreat

Adult-Like Behavior

I'm obsessed with this video.

Funny dialogue...

German Friend: And so when the spider makes his... house?

Me: His web?

German: Is a web a house?

Me: It's a spider's house.

Spent the better part of yesterday afternoon teaching my Russian, German and Colombian friends American texting abbreviations.

Ttyl, u r l8 4 ur d8 lol.

The topic of yesterday's writing class was mobile phones (cellphones, portables, etc etc) and whether it was good for teenagers to have them. My prof started on a mini rant about teenagers these days and how they have no idea how to be polite. Everyone 20+ nodded their heads and agreed, until I pointed out that we teenagers number five in the class.

Apparently with the french mentality, once you have your majority (18) you are thusly considered an adult, and therefore no longer a teenager.

I guess I'll have to start acting adult-like.

Filling Oysters and Filler Words

Today was marked by a Colombian meal prepared by a REAL colombian, a fruitless hunt for chinese food and one of the more terrifying lectures about how to eat oysters.

Allow me to elucidate.

At dinner tonight, I was offered a plate with a single oyster, which appeared to have been fished out of the ocean in the last three minutes. Maybe two.

Now I like to consider myself as someone who will try most things. (For those of you who just fell of your chairs in surprise, know that a lot of things have changed chez my taste buds in the last year. I refuse to eat pickles still, because it is immoral and they smell nasty, but I've tried everything else set in front of me in France-The-Country-That-Eats-Everything. Including the oyster.)

What freaked me out was not the jelly fish like quality of the inner meat, or the seaweed-ish smell. Even the fact that there was still sand on the outer rim of the shell failed to deter me.

However, the lecture and advice I received from all ends of the table scared the crap out of me. Sometimes when one has too much attention and too much help, the idea of accomplishing a task is suddenly scary. So much pressure.

So when everyone's backs were turned, I quickly gulped it down. Sand and all.

Score one for the good guys.

Something I've been meditating on for the last few days is the parts of our language that we use but don't realize. For instance, Canadians say "ay" all the time, and fail to notice it. French people say "bah" or this really scary breathless "ouais" sucking noise, and are surprised when I jump in fright at such an inhuman noise.

And we Minnesotans say the word "so" at the end of practically all our sentences. The filler words of "like" and "umm" are also embarrassingly present.

From here on out, I will try to speak in complete sentences, without using fillers. Even thinking this way is difficult. Grrr.

How To Crash A Protest

Pardon the absence. A panoply of activities, adventures and the lack of internet kept me away from the blog, though I assure you it was difficult.

So what have I been up to?

I've been doodling like mad, and have gone through four pens in the last week. Can I have nice pens for Christmas?

Today I crashed a manifestation/demonstration. It's been my goal to join in on one, and finally an opportunity presented itself. On my way to buy a newspaper, I stumbled across a Communist/Ecologist manifestation. It was large enough that I could hop in unnoticed, and so I marched with them for a couple blocks.

Protesting is a really jovial experience, with people bringing their children along (you can tell it's a culturally engrained thing) and everyone singing and shouting songs. I made the mistake (silly me) of not wearing red, and I was enjoying myself so much that I had a really tough time looking angry and indignant.

My favorite part of the experience would have to be when an old lady walked up to the people leading the march and started screaming things at them. What I caught seemed to be along the lines of...

"MY GRANDFATHER WORKED FOR THIS COUNTRY, AND YOU'RE BREAKING THE STREETS OUR FOREFATHERS BLED TO BUILD, YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES, YOU'RE AS BAD AS THOSE AMERICANS."

I'm assuming that was a reference to Occupy Wall Street.

When I was later buying my newspaper I got budged by a granny and her snotty nosed grandson. As I don't know how to say "back of the line budger" I just fumed and made faces at the grandson. Who obligingly returned my maturity.

As the time to leave draws closer, I get more and more panicky. How am I going to deal with the absence of daily lectures about the evils of savory food for breakfast? Where else will I find the same degree of Harry Potter and Lion King jokes? Who else will tell me my American accent is adorable?

Made brownies with my host brother, as part of the process of me preparing him for his visit next year to the U.S. He passed the test, licking the bowl and announcing it was "Cool dude."

I'm so proud of my protegé.

Some photos from my Thanksgiving dinner.

Feeling pretty pleased and surprised at how well cooking an entire thanksgiving dinner all by myself went. Miracle happen, and for that I am thankful.

Prepping!!!

Not as weird as french music.

I have the problem of being unable to reply when asked what I want for Christmas.

The only things I can think of are socks (I ALWAYS need socks) and peanut butter. But I still have half a jar, which has lasted since October 1st.

Sad day.

HOWEVER, the holiday of Thanksgiving (or as the french say, "Sanksgeevin") is upon us. And the spirit of thanksgiving is giving thanks, not giving gifts. For those of you who don't obsessively read the NYTimes, there is a wonderful article about gratitude

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/22/science/a-serving-of-gratitude-brings-healthy-dividends.html?_r=1&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=tha210

Regularly feeling gratitude helps you sleep better, makes you a calmer, more optimistic person and a more moral, kinder person. Instead of wishing for those things, perhaps say thank you for what you already have.

I am very grateful to have not one but MANY families I can call my own, around the globe, whom I adore. I am grateful for six amazing grandparents, two wonderful brothers, two awe-striking parents, a Ruthie-parent, two cats (even if one drools), a sister of the soul, my thousands of friends and acquaintances I miss and meet everyday and for my current life. I am truly blessed to have the people and places around me that I do.

I wish I didn't sleepwalk, or lose my temper when my breakfast is insulted. But maybe gratitude will fix those things.

But enough with gooshiness.

Have lately been battling to the death with the subjunctif. I want to throttle this tense alive. I will conquer it, but there will be some major damage done on both sides. Curses.

Quoi de neuf? (what's new?) Watched a weird movie about Vincent Van Gogh (they say his last name "Gogg"), who was a pretty weird guy anyways.

Today we danced Le Rock in dance class (it's super fun, particularly when we play Michael Jackson or Fine Young Cannibals) and Cha-Cha.

I was a child who was raised on Collective Soul, Fine Young Cannibals, Spin Doctors and Shania Twain. And an inordinate amount of ABBA. This diverse collection of tunes has probably done really weird things to my brain. BUT NOT AS WEIRD AS FRENCH MUSIC!

Going to go back to Kato Lomb. Ciao! (bon nuit) (buenos noches)

Culinary Adventures

Preparing for the new french holiday of Sancksgeevin.

Amateur, and worth every penny.

Wikipedia, be it unreliable, badly cited and lacking in basic grammar, is a wonderful tool.


For the last few days, I've been conducting personal research in the domain of "autodidactism." That is, people who learn things by themselves and master skills without, or largely without the aid of formal schooling.


Looking at wikipedia's "list of famous autodidacts" you see people from Adolf Hitler (educated in libraries after early years) to Thomas Edison, Benjamin Franklin, and Julian Assange (whose mother kept him out of school with the conviction that it would "inculcate an unhealthy respect for authority in her children and dampen their will to learn"). Or the lady I'm most interested in at the moment, Kato Lomb.


She taught herself TWENTY ONE languages.


I'm currently devouring her book about how she acquired languages, and various truths to autodidactism with regard to linguistics. One of my favorite lines is "Solely in the world of languages is the amateur of value."


This is incredibly true.  Being an amateur doctor, engineer, or lawyer is of little to no value to society. Being an amateur musician, artist or writer, while giving enormous pleasure personally and to those around you, is not concretely "of value" to society.


By contrast, being an amateur in a language can build friendships and bonds, aide in difficult situations and open different doors. Trying to ask in broken french where the bus to get to the airport is is better than staying silent and missing your flight.


"We should learn languages because language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly."

And my favorite line in the book...

 "The only thing of interest is learning.

…An exciting game, a coquettish hide-andseek,

a magnificent flirt with the spirit of humanity.

Never do we read so fluently and with such

keen eyes as in a hardly known, new language.

We grow young by it, we become children, babbling

babies and we seem to start."

In addition to my studies on languages, I've also been exploring various means of independent schooling. I was raised for 12 years in a Montessori school, which was an excellent experience but by no means the far end of alternative schooling. Picking up some fairly radical ideas, which will undoubtably clash a little bit with formal schooling next year.

Or a lot.

Finally one last think that I've found fascinating (pardon my rampant enthusiasm). English is a language which sits on the cusp of two different groups, Romance and Germanic. This is because as a base, English was a German language thanks to the Nordic invaders. However, grâce aux francais and William the Conqueror, we have many words in common with french.

Here the crazy stuff begins.

It is easier for German people (in general) to understand less educated people because the vocabulary is more "germanic" in origin. Whereas it is easier for french people to understand well-educated people. Where less educated people would tend to use "begin" (a german word in origin), highly educated people are more likely to use "commence" (a french word in origin).

You also see this strongly with our multiple names for animals that we eat. Whereas we raise cows, sheep, goats and pigs (generally germanic), we eat beef, pork, veal and steak (of which the french equivalents are boeuf, porc, veau and steak).

Nighty night, I've reached the point in learning where I'm having trouble seeing words clearly.

Sock it to you.

Received a round of applause for remembering to wear socks this morning.

This says a lot.

Nom Nom Nom

I made the acquaintance of this fine Australian lady in Barcelona. We told her and her bestie (equally fine) about our irish fireman. So when they went to Ireland, they kindly took this WONDERFUL photo for our enjoyment.

So awesome. Gah.


Was sent this. Made my day.

The new Beaujolais (a type of wine) has arrived, and at lunch today we had a little tasting. Apparently it's a sort of marker of the seasons. When the Beaujolais has arrived, Autumn is nearly finished.

Speaking of nearly finished, I'm now 35% done with my gap year.

Not that I'm counting. Whilst there are somethings about Minnesota I miss (biking everywhere, random adventures and then Uptown Diner around 12, or hip hop concerts I understand) I try to find substitutes and live french culture to the fullest. 

A gesture I learned today that means delicious in french body language.

Nom nom nom.

Sneezing on purpose...

My host brother has a cold, and has been sneezing so loud, it shakes the house.

He just got asked, "tu le fais exprès?"

Are you doing it on purpose?

Sneezers just can't catcha break these days.

Potty Mouth

Learning a language is a bit like being a child all over again.

Like most children, you go through a phase of being a potty mouth. Bad words hold glittering appeal, and all of a sudden you're learning NEW ones. *evil cackle*

I like them them for shock appeal.

But actually, it's a weird phenomenon. I find it very curious that the more a set of vocabulary becomes "illicit" or "naughty", the more appeal it holds. Same with slang words. They are much more interesting than regular grammar forms, and far more thrilling to use.

Some of the most interesting things I've learned so far have come from my phonetics professor. For instance, children between the ages of 0 and 7 can learn unlimited languages, because their ears do not have "filters", blocking out sounds. It is these same filters which block my ears from hearing the sound "ou" in "rouge" (my most dreaded word in the whole french language). Because I cannot hear it, I have incredible difficulty making it.

Other interesting facts include that children who are widely traveled and who learn different languages as small children, and thus are true "polyglots" have much smaller active vocabularies than someone my age (ancient, in language learning terms). They also have a tendency to be much less bigoted and harbor fewer cultural biases, having seen/accepted multiple cultures in action.

And now for one of the more hilarious stories of miscommunication between english speakers to date.

One of my friends was using naughty words (gros mots, in french, which means "fat words") and was rightfully called a potty mouth. However, to a native german speaker this sounds like "party mouse." So for the next few days she would say "party mouse" and do mouse ears with her hands whenever someone said a swear word.

AMAZING.

Actually Duck

Today I was lazy.

I got my eyebrows waxed (yay mom advice), creeped in bookstores and got run out of an irish clothing store by the most aggressively helpful clerk I've yet to make the acquaintance of. Nightmares of her will ensue, in rapid and unintelligible french.

I then went to dance class, where we worked on tango. I dislike tango. Being the proud possessor of small but in the way feet means that it is far too easy to render said feet useless. Particularly whilst dancing the tango.

But we also worked on salsa, which was fun. I wore a flippy skirt, which is ideal. Childish amusements.

Afterwards I went home, watched TED talks with french subtitles (the translations are hilarious), wrote a poem about a monster, took pictures of my doodles and wrote letters.

Got asked at dinner what I thought of the meat and potato dish we were eating. When I said the roastbeef was delicious, I was informed it was actually duck.

It was delicious.

Immortals and Crazy Things

Currently being treated to blaring techno music... it's like being in a conservative, catholic rave.

We are definitely not in Kansas.

Although, I've never been to Kansas. What is it like?

Some Nantes News you may find interesting (I laughed).

Nantes has been chosen as the newest international big fancy shmancy airport city. Great for when I want to come visit all my friends and host family, although there have been some protests. About 3,000 people rode bike (RODE BIKE) to Paris to protest. Endorphins from manifestations (protests) are enough, we need to get a 15 hour bike ride in there.

Their main concern? There will be tractors on the runway. Heads up, it's not that far out in the boonies.

You could conceivably make this argument for Minneapolis as well. I have been asked the following.
-Is it true you have the world's biggest mall full of red necks? (Welcome to Fleet Farm)
-Does everyone wear plaid there? (We started it! #Hipsternation)
-Why do you live there? (Why don't you?)

FOUR French Phrases I Adore

Utopiste: Someone who believes in "utopia," or a paradise on earth.

Apprendre en s'amusant: Learning whilst amusing oneself. Welcome to my gap year!

Autodidacte: Someone who learns for themself, without the help of a teacher.

Bof: B.O.F. (yes this is an acronym). Stands for Beurre Oeuf Fromage. Butter egg cheese. Means redneck.

Now an introduction to the peculiarities of French society...

In France, a mystical country, there exists a language, a Romance language in fact. It is called French. There are between 90-110 MILLION native speakers around the world. It still serves in many cases as the language of diplomacy, despite losing ground to english, as it is much better than english for technical situations. It is much harder to pin dictators, swindlers, and rule breakers down in vague english than in deadly specific french.

Unlike English, which as far as I know is fairly unregimented and roams as free as whatever word you want to create, French is very strict.

Very strict.

There is an Academy, "Académie Française", which decides which words every year are "French" and therefore are permissible for politicians, soccer players, public personas and postal workers to use. And for the rest of us.

Made up of the "immortals" (I kid you not), these ever living (but not) personages are charged with the important task of making up new words to combat other languages encroaching on their verbal territory.

For instance, computer. Ordinateur.

Or Ipad. Tablette tactile.

Anyways, creeping on their internet page, I can only spot two women in their forty seat-table. How disappointing.

Recent drama according to Google involves the Unofficial (I should probably Uncapitalize that) feminization of various professions, as the academy (pardon, The Academy) insists one must use the correct (masculine) noun. In English, we have less of this problem, because so much slang enters our language and gets spat back out. Hence, people not understanding me when I say that I hear there's a dishy thrash round the corner.

Grandparent slang. C'est un truc de fou.

A Cureall For Woes

Still at the Grandparents.

Today was lovely. I petted goats and made friends with a bear-like dog, baked a cake for my belated birthday party (I should probably add that even for me, who celebrates my entire birthday month, it's a little late) and walked along the sea. My excellent french friend and I explored old Nazi hideouts and she told me about Bretagne's history. It's far more robust by comparison to the rest of France, as for much of history it's been considered separate. Different language, different culture, and very proud of it too.

Learned the french word for thug (described to me as a gangster who wears his pants low). Racaille. But you don't say it to someone's face, unless you want a "knuckle sandwich." In our exchange, this was the phrase I offered. More of my grandparent slang.

Skyped with my lovely parents and little brother. Twas very good to see them and hear the news. Sadly, they were less than helpful when it came to me complaining about my romantic woes. Their suggestion was to get my eyebrows waxed. This has been a hit chez grandparents, and is being lauded as a cureall. Tomorrow, we are all going together to get our eyebrows waxed. Group sesh.

Fudge Crisis

So recently I've tried to give up swearing. It's just a rather unpleasant habit that I've started doing too much, given that most people don't understand how colorful my language is. Anyways, I had a lapse today with my campaign and was telling Grunkle about how "bullshit" not having savory foods for breakfast was.


Yes, this is a minor obsession.


Anyways the following conversation.


Me: My apologies for swearing.
Grunkle: It's not swearing, "bullshit" is an expression.
Me: It's a swear word. I'm trying to stop swearing.
Grunkle: No, it's an expression. You need to stop expressing yourself.


This afternoon we decided to make english fudge. I had a minor existential crisis when I was told that THEIR FUDGE HAS NO CHOCOLATE IN IT.


Am I alone in thinking that fudge is always with chocolate?


Spoken today:


Granny: Bear, what skullduggery have you been up to in the garden?


Now it is dark. Grunkle is currently cooking/blowing up chestnuts in the wood stove, my toffee apples I created are disappearing at a rapid rate, and the grandparents are arguing over how to scrub carrots correctly.


Bliss.


Granny: I don't think you should have so much whisky, it's making you obstreperous.

ob·strep·er·ous/əbˈstrepərəs/

Noisy and difficult to control

• - the boy is cocky and obstreperous

Quite. You learn new words in every language these days. My other favorite comes from Scotland.

"Tartle" is when you forget someone's name whilst you are attempting to introduce them.

We just call that awkward in the States.

My new favorite phrase was coined during dinner. We were talking about the romantic lives of artists (not necessarily that they have lives that are romantic, but the romances they have.). And how to find hilarious ads like "Couple cherche un autre couple pour un aprés-midi d'exploration."

My phrase:

"Chaud lapin cherche un froid lapin pour réchauffage." Hot rabbit seeking cold rabbit for reheating.

The Pros and Cons

Friends, family and randos ask me all the time whether I'm glad I decided to take a gap year.

Typically I answer in a sentence ending with ! and there's usually an all caps word involved.

It's true, I like it. Understatement of the year. I love it. (note the lack of caps and !. I thought it would lend me more credibility).

A year in other countries, way more independence, different languages, exciting adventures at every turn and new food. What are the pros and cons?

Cons:
-I'll be 24 when I hopefully get my bachelors degree. I'll be a year, or even two older than some of my classmates.
-Coming back won't exactly be easy, as I'll be habituated to a life full of much more independence, adult responsibilities and constant adventures. Culture shock.
-A year without much homework, learning for the sake of learning and choosing the things I want to master. (This weeks theme is 10 verbs I've decided to master, Maya Angelou's "Letters to My Daughters" and figure out what the word "vendette" means). All this then to four years of nose to the grindstone. It won't be easy.
-There was a lady on an airplane once who told me (not me personally, but for anyone who was thinking of taking a year off) that if I took a gap year I would drop out of college and become a druggie layabout. This has yet to happen.
-I don't get to see my american family, american friends and my city for ten months. I've yet to feel more than a twinge of homesickness, but it is hard some days without a familiar support network.

Pros-
-I'll return speaking multiple languages, having seen many different cultures, lifestyles, places and people.
-I am in one of the only periods of my life (most likely) where I will be free of significant responsibilities. No partner, child, mortgage or career. Yet. Il faut profiter lorsque on peut.
-Frankly, 14 years of schooling, even as fun, loving and wonderful as it was, put me through the ringer. One needs a break, and a gap year, when structured enough (but not too much! it's hard to run when everyone is holding your hand) is perfect.
-Plane Lady, people who take gap years are more likely to graduate college in four years. They tend to enter university with a more concrete/directed idea of what they want to do with their lives/time/energy, and work harder when they get there.
-The wonderful australians I chatted with in Barcelona told me that for them, traveling is a "rite of passage." This is part of the reason while you will probably find australians everywhere. The attitude of adventure, the willingness to visit other places and take chances, is beautiful.

Yesterday I bought a crimson sweater, watched a truly horrifying (But MANIFIQUE) film about the Parisian Child Protection Unit and walked over three hours.

Time to ponder many things. Nighty night.

Something To Strive For

A rather deep and consuming pondering has taken me over, driven by a very innocent conversation.

I absolutely adore to eat eggs in the morning, particularly scrambled eggs with a bit of toast. Nummy. However, to my host family this is truly disgusting, and they don't really make a secret of it. (They should see what british people eat for breakfast... A "Full Breakfast" means beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, black pudding, bacon, kidneys, homefries and more).

Apparently this reaction is driven from the french habit of only eating sweet things in the morning.

Typical French Breakfast:
Yogurt
Toast with jam
Hot chocolate (a HUGE bowl of heated milk with chocolate added)
and then maybe tea or coffee if you're feeling adventurous.

Anyways, I was chatting with one of my host brothers, and when I deigned to counterattack his own breakfast (after he made delightful wretching sounds over mine) he retorted with "I can't help my culture, it's the only way I know, it's the way I've been raised."

Which is fair enough. But ever since we talked about this, I can't help but keep thinking about culture and how responsible we are for the way our cultures have made us, with or without our concious knowledge. After all, I'm the only American or with just a couple others in all of my classes (classes of 30+ at that). As a representative for my country, I'm aware of the scrutiny and implicit judgements when I meet others. Unfortunately, my inability to drink fizzy things (how Un-American) means that most people are very disappointed with me. That coupled with the sad fact that people in the U.S. do not rollerblade around in bikinis all day every day.

So can I be held responsible for the fact that I like savory things for breakfast? Or that I get confused (in a happy way) when men hold doors open for me and wait for me to enter rooms first? Or that I'm a terrible rollerblader and prefer one pieces to bikinis?

On a deeper level, can I be judged fairly for the ways that I've been conditioned to think and act? And can I judge others for doing things that I don't agree with or think of as absolutely barbaric?

No idea yet, will let you know when an answer has been found. In the meantime, enjoy this anecdote.

My father is british and grew up in Singapore and the United Kingdom. When he was little, his stereotype of Americans were people who wore tweed, chewed lots of gum and walked like cowboys.

Something to strive for as a country, I'd say.

Favorite sighting today: Sign in the Jardin des Plantes saying "Erable Swedler." Imagine being called Mr. Erable Swedler. One of the cooler names in the world.

Means "Swedler Maple Tree."

Drummer...

Woke up this morning after the Foster the People, Miles Kane, and Friendly Fires concert feeling good. Weird being one of the only english speakers in the crowd... I wonder what it is like going to a concert where you don't understand anything.

Oh wait, rap concerts.

Got elbowed in the face by some enthusiastic Miles Kane fans, probably as revenge for me elbowing them when they were jumping on me. I may be short, and I may not take up a ton of space, but I won't let crazed frenchmen push me around. Elbows of steel, meet frogs.

Imprinted on my hand is "drummer can I have your number?"

You can't say the same thing.

Languages are wonderful things, not just because you can speak to more people. In the act of learning a language, you create new space in your brain and lay all the new information down, creating more connections with different areas as you learn more and more.

But not all languages say the same things. The connotations and nuances of english and french are incredibly fine, and part of my intense struggle is trying to catch on to the different phrases, and the little stories behind them.

Some of my favorite french phrases and the best I can do to translate them.

Hallucination Olfactive: "Nasal Hallucination." When you think you smell something, but in reality nothing is there.

Dépaysement: The feeling of missing one's country, or not being in one's country.

Connaitre vs. Savoir: French distinguishes between different types of "knowing." The way you "know" a fact or piece of information is different from the way you "know" a person or a city.

L'esprit de escalier: Translates literally as "staircase wit." Describes the feeling you get after leaving a conversation and suddenly thinking of all the things you forgot or should have said.

Panne D'oreiller: Where you lack the ability to wake up on time, or with your alarm. Panne means "empty" or "lacking" and oreiller is your pillow. Lacking in pillow...

Oh la vache: translates as "oh the cow" but really means "holy cow."

Holy cow, it's my bedtime.

Flipping Switches

So oftentimes you hear about people's travel stories. They get to a foreign language, with a foreign country (or the other way around, I dunno how you travel) and they struggle.

Strugs, as we teenagers say. The words feel funny in your mouth, the sounds don't mesh with your ears, and even your nose is feeling a little out of place, despite its lack of active participation in communication.

Then, in this magical story, one day you wake up and you speak the language perfectly. You understand everything, it's like everything clicks and you flip a switch.

Welcome to fluentdom.

This myth, at least for me, has been debunked. I've been dreaming in french since I got here in August, but am still far from understanding everything said around me. My fluency depends on the following equation.

1/2(Number of french songs listened to this morning) + hours of sleep - quantity of english speakers I've chatted with + whether I read the newspaper and listened to a podcast in the last 24 hours = how well I understand you when you ask me why I'm sleeping outside the classroom at 8 am, waiting for uni to start.

I seem to be flipping the switch on and off. For instance, my vocabulary has been deemed extraordinary (hint: say english words with a french accent... works 90% of the time). A french friend was astonished that I know the word for onomatopoeia (It's onomatopée).  However, my grammar is sadly lacking, despite my efforts towards ameliorating my atrocious sentence structures.

So how does one know if one makes progress? Here are some signs that I've noticed.

• When you ask for something in a store/restaurant/library, you are not questioned what country you come from.
• When there is a joke told in French, you laugh because it is funny, not because you don't understand and feel awkward.
• You can read a newspaper and understand in general every article, save where they use english words incorrectly and misspelled to highlight a recent trend.
• Your imitation of french people is deemed "embarrassingly true."
• You slip in the random slang words but don't overdo it (like you did at the beginning of your stay).

The best ways to make progress I've found are to find things to attack. One week it'll be subjunctives, the next personal pronouns. The best thing I did for my grammar was to choose the top ten verbs you use everyday and learn them perfectly. Sure, I'll probably mess up very technical language, but at least now I've got a handle on general conversation.

So maybe one day I'll wake up and feel completely french, and go on to speak like a pro. But more likely I'll mess up, make a misunderstood joke and continue my day making small errors. Big picture wise, not small picture wise, I'm doing okay.

Momentous Occasion

Today, my friends, in about an hour, I will be (drumroll)

Getting a haircut.

Kinda scared, because I don't exactly remember all the vocab for everything involved. BUT, I do have my top three styles picked out.

80s.

Fall back if I can't remember how to say 80s. (The direct translation of 80 is four-twenty... as in four times twenty. Confusing much?)

Or maybe if I'm feeling boring, a blonde version of Zoey D.

Pictures of the potential catastrophe may never make it onto the blog, and if you skype with me, I may be wearing a hat. Wish me luck!

STAR TRIBUNE!

Hello nearest and dearest internet friends.

I am now a proud part of the World Class Blog run by the Star Tribune.

http://www.startribune.com/blogs/94951444.html

But don't worry, this is my primary mode of public self expression.

Yay for big person things!

You Need A Nose To Speak French

Host Brother: Can I borrow your ipod?
Me: Why?
Host Bro: Please? You're pretty.
Me: Whatever. Here you go.
Host Bro: It's a joke! You're not pretty.

How mean.


Today in phonetics class we were working on the "nasal" sound that the french are so effing good at. My nose is too small to do it properly. Anyways, I was sitting there, calmly flunking an exercise on telling the difference between


Sain- as in healthy
Sein- as in boob/breast
Son- as in his/hers


(Son sain sein-> badly worded/conjugated etc but means "her healthy breast")


When I had a profound thought.


Put yourself in the Harry Potter mindset for a moment.


Because of his weird transformation and new noseless state of existence, Lord Voldemort WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO THE NASAL SOUND.


Thus, he couldn't speak french. Mind=Ecrasé.


I wonder if the people who dubbed the movies into french and translated the books thought about this. You really really need a nose to speak french.


It's currently the season of getting sick, and I have caught a wicked head cold. Here is some french vocab/slang to go with the achoos and sniffles.


Etre Crevé- To be dead (slang)


Choper/attraper- to catch


J'ai chopé la crève- I've caught an evil cold.


Éterver- To sneeze


Tousser- To Cough


Renifler- To sniff


Se moucher- To blow one's nose.


Taught my host bro the call and return of-


See you later alligator...


In a while crocodile.






Peace out girl scout.