So since I've been here, I love how French people will do something or say phrase, and think nothing of it. However, if you as a foreigner do it, you get corrected. I think this is something that would frustrate me less if I weren't 28 years old, and sometimes being corrected by people 5 to 10 years my junior. Then again, it doesn't take much to get under my skin if I'm in the wrong mood.
One of the most normal problems I run into in France is discussing time. Technically, all time in the strictest sense should be discussed on a 24 hour clock, which is what they use in France. Not a problem, in general. I learned military time when I was a kid. We had a VCR that only ran in it. Of course, in English, we'd say 4 pm as 1600 hours in that case. But no, France has to be well....French about it. So should you be discussing 6 PM in French, you write it as 18h. Now that's perfectly reasonable, but I did start to notice something.... No one says "dixhuit heures." Everyone instead says, "six heures du soir." So in reality, they're using the exact same AM/PM system as the US, but if you as a foreigner were to say "six heures du soir," expect to be corrected at least once.
There are also words that you're not supposed to use in French, especially when discussing money. Earlier I had started reading manga translated into French. I had picked up some words, among them was fric. I decided to use it when discussing something with my niece, and she was quick to correct me. The best word to use is argent. Now, that wouldn't be so bad, It's really the difference between saying money and dough in English. Here's where it gets more complicated though. Almost no one uses fric. It's a possible translation, but when people want to be casual in discussing money, the word of choice is poignon. It's about the equivalent of saying bread as far as I can tell. The hierarchy of words for money in French, as far as I can tell (from most to least preferable) is argent, liquide (which is only to be used when talking about cash), fric, and finally poignon. The correction stung slightly less, as she was in her twenties.
Just as a final reference, I was studying some books for a French exam here, and one of the first things I remember learning was that in French, you're never supposed to end a sentence with "avec." It's kind of the same sense when in English you're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition, but it's just avec they tell you specifically to avoid in French. So a few nights later, I'm watching TV and there it is. A national television ad for what I believe was a bank, ending their sentence with avec.
So the moral of this story, or at least some sort of takeaway, is to take everything people tell you under advisement, but personally, I wouldn't trust it further than you can throw it. Although there's a French Academy of Languages, no one actually listens to a word they say unless they're writing for Le Monde. Much like English, new words are minted every day. If the language isn't changing, maybe someone from the Academy would like to explain to me the historical origins of "meuf."
I plan on having a big article this weekend about the Hunt for Red October, also known as the mad dash to Rennes every day my partner had off to find an apartment. We get the keys this Saturday, so we'll go from there.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
So she's the terminator?
(I apologize for the flippant nature of the title, but well, it's not every day you get to type that.)
While reading through a few articles the other day, I came across this article from the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/07/us/politics/07repubs.html?_r=1&ref=us which discusses the beginnings of the republican primaries. All things considered, most of the article is information I have already read. The focus of the article is on two candidates. Tim Pawlenty, a former governor of Minnesota, who made a comment to which he received silent agreement when he said that republicans have the advantage, and the fastest way to lose is to choose "the wrong candidate." Conversely Michele Bachmann, a current representative for Minnesota, garnered what was described as thunderous applause for her comment that "Behind this dress is a titanium spine!"
One must admit, not only is it beautifully crafted but it does a delicious job of satisfying so many wants the republican party seems to have now. The primary process is always chaotic, but it seems that this round carries more weight. After riding high from midterm elections, the luster of those representatives has worn thin. They have thoroughly proven that they were not the promised change in Washington. In fact since the mid term elections, the party is screaming in all directions.
The republican party needs a leader. They need someone who can reassure all stripes that their interests will be heard and represented. They need someone who is wiling to roll up his or her sleeves and get dirty. Additionally, party needs change but cannot afford to change horses in mid stream. Therefore, they must find someone among the candidates who can strike that balance to satisfy each faction, all while appearing to remain evenly keeled. This one well crafted phrase functions to separate Michelle Bachmann from the crowd while simultaneously convincing the nation of her down to earth nature, all the while reassuring elite conservatives concerned at losing their first estate representation.
First and foremost, the structure of this phrase leaves something to be desired. Bachmann begins this declaration with "behind." Technically speaking, the idea of having a titanium spine behind the dress would mean it to be outside of the body, outside of the material of the dress itself. Colloquially though, behind often serves as an alternative to beneath. Most speakers of English couldn't tell you the last time they used beneath, but behind conveniently has a much higher frequency. With this single word choice, Bachmann has proven herself as the every man.
One might also find it curious that Bachmann would specifically mention that her spine is behind a dress. Before I begin, I should say that this point is not an indictment of all conservatives, but specifically evangelical or fundamentalist conservatives. For this class of conservatives, more so than the general public, has a definition as to how women should be attired; often influenced by if not taken directly from biblical codes. There are private, usually christian, universities where women may actually face disciplinary actions for wearing pants. Even in the military, there are rules in place that restrict females from gender neutral attire. For some conservatives, the idea of a woman wearing something that does not conform to their standards is not only an affront to them, but moreover to their God.
Concurrently, although it should have no place in politics, the general public judges a female candidate not only on issues, but on her fashion choices. Looking back on the 2008 election cycle; remember that the media was incensed because Hillary Clinton wore pantsuits. Even after the democratic primaries finished; the conversation switched to Sarah Palin. She presented herself in a far more palatable manner as she wore skirts and dresses. With that single move, she fell into what is expected of a woman and thereby sidestepped any questioning of her fashion sense. Michele Bachmann, following Palin's lead, avoided this pratfall by presenting herself in an acceptable way to the media.
Bachmann's use of a titanium spine could be compared to the famous quote from Elizabeth I at Tilbury. Both reference parts of the body, but each works as a code to a specific audience. In Elizabeth's full statement she said that she may have the body "but of a weak and feeble woman;" but"the heart and stomach of a king. Although, the queen's reference to the heart is straightforward, one could interpret her reference to the stomach as to say that she can "stomach" the troubles that come with being a ruler. Bachmann, in her case, is using the code of political spinelessness. In having a titanium spine, she's saying that she will not bend to the interests of others.
Admittedly few would think of a reference to an obscure speech by an English queen, especially in the United States. In my case, I would not know the reference unless I had taken a course on Elizabeth and her court. Without blowing too much smoke, only those with higher levels of education would recognize the connection. Therefore, the Elizabethan reference serves a second function, what some call a "dog whistle," to let the educated know that she is far more shrewd than she may appear.
Messaging like this is really what a candidate with such a questionable background like Michele Bachmann needs. Such simple but effective phrasing will allow her to show herself as calm and responsible to those who need to see a candidate of that nature. She is also able to show conservative circles that she knows their belief of where a woman's place is. Bachmann also speaks to both a more conservative and educated audience. Bachmann can use what she has built with this single phrase to position herself as a break from the perennial choices of Paul and Romney. Maybe more importantly, she can show the party that she, like Elizabeth, can weather the battle and come out the victor in the upcoming war.
While reading through a few articles the other day, I came across this article from the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/07/us/politics/07repubs.html?_r=1&ref=us which discusses the beginnings of the republican primaries. All things considered, most of the article is information I have already read. The focus of the article is on two candidates. Tim Pawlenty, a former governor of Minnesota, who made a comment to which he received silent agreement when he said that republicans have the advantage, and the fastest way to lose is to choose "the wrong candidate." Conversely Michele Bachmann, a current representative for Minnesota, garnered what was described as thunderous applause for her comment that "Behind this dress is a titanium spine!"
One must admit, not only is it beautifully crafted but it does a delicious job of satisfying so many wants the republican party seems to have now. The primary process is always chaotic, but it seems that this round carries more weight. After riding high from midterm elections, the luster of those representatives has worn thin. They have thoroughly proven that they were not the promised change in Washington. In fact since the mid term elections, the party is screaming in all directions.
The republican party needs a leader. They need someone who can reassure all stripes that their interests will be heard and represented. They need someone who is wiling to roll up his or her sleeves and get dirty. Additionally, party needs change but cannot afford to change horses in mid stream. Therefore, they must find someone among the candidates who can strike that balance to satisfy each faction, all while appearing to remain evenly keeled. This one well crafted phrase functions to separate Michelle Bachmann from the crowd while simultaneously convincing the nation of her down to earth nature, all the while reassuring elite conservatives concerned at losing their first estate representation.
First and foremost, the structure of this phrase leaves something to be desired. Bachmann begins this declaration with "behind." Technically speaking, the idea of having a titanium spine behind the dress would mean it to be outside of the body, outside of the material of the dress itself. Colloquially though, behind often serves as an alternative to beneath. Most speakers of English couldn't tell you the last time they used beneath, but behind conveniently has a much higher frequency. With this single word choice, Bachmann has proven herself as the every man.
One might also find it curious that Bachmann would specifically mention that her spine is behind a dress. Before I begin, I should say that this point is not an indictment of all conservatives, but specifically evangelical or fundamentalist conservatives. For this class of conservatives, more so than the general public, has a definition as to how women should be attired; often influenced by if not taken directly from biblical codes. There are private, usually christian, universities where women may actually face disciplinary actions for wearing pants. Even in the military, there are rules in place that restrict females from gender neutral attire. For some conservatives, the idea of a woman wearing something that does not conform to their standards is not only an affront to them, but moreover to their God.
Concurrently, although it should have no place in politics, the general public judges a female candidate not only on issues, but on her fashion choices. Looking back on the 2008 election cycle; remember that the media was incensed because Hillary Clinton wore pantsuits. Even after the democratic primaries finished; the conversation switched to Sarah Palin. She presented herself in a far more palatable manner as she wore skirts and dresses. With that single move, she fell into what is expected of a woman and thereby sidestepped any questioning of her fashion sense. Michele Bachmann, following Palin's lead, avoided this pratfall by presenting herself in an acceptable way to the media.
Bachmann's use of a titanium spine could be compared to the famous quote from Elizabeth I at Tilbury. Both reference parts of the body, but each works as a code to a specific audience. In Elizabeth's full statement she said that she may have the body "but of a weak and feeble woman;" but"the heart and stomach of a king. Although, the queen's reference to the heart is straightforward, one could interpret her reference to the stomach as to say that she can "stomach" the troubles that come with being a ruler. Bachmann, in her case, is using the code of political spinelessness. In having a titanium spine, she's saying that she will not bend to the interests of others.
Admittedly few would think of a reference to an obscure speech by an English queen, especially in the United States. In my case, I would not know the reference unless I had taken a course on Elizabeth and her court. Without blowing too much smoke, only those with higher levels of education would recognize the connection. Therefore, the Elizabethan reference serves a second function, what some call a "dog whistle," to let the educated know that she is far more shrewd than she may appear.
Messaging like this is really what a candidate with such a questionable background like Michele Bachmann needs. Such simple but effective phrasing will allow her to show herself as calm and responsible to those who need to see a candidate of that nature. She is also able to show conservative circles that she knows their belief of where a woman's place is. Bachmann also speaks to both a more conservative and educated audience. Bachmann can use what she has built with this single phrase to position herself as a break from the perennial choices of Paul and Romney. Maybe more importantly, she can show the party that she, like Elizabeth, can weather the battle and come out the victor in the upcoming war.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Keep Your Distance
I always dread when I either meet someone new, or when I see someone I haven't seen in a while here in France. If they're family or something like that, it's not nearly as stressful, but I always feel a bit awkward when meeting someone. Should we just shake hands? Is it proper to "faire la biz?" I have always found the easiest way to handle it, obviously, is to let the other person take the lead. Then you know exactly where you stand. I never thought about how complicated this is when meeting someone until I had to learn a system that doesn't always quite line up to my American notions.
First and foremost, I should admit that even in the US, I'm a bit unsure of what to do. Nine times out of ten, I'll nod my head and say "'s'up" and just leave it at that. If it's someone I'm trying to impress, of course there's a handshake, but well, you know, it's complicated. It's not that I'm shy, but more that I never know how to deal with people when I first meet them. I really think the best phrase I ever heard to describe how Americans generally interact from each other comes from Scott Adams: "I was raised in a country, where touching meant you're standing on the same carpet. Any closer, and you were engaged."
When I came to France, his family understood the nature of the relationship between my partner and I. The first people I met were family, so pretty much the rules worked out the same as with my family. The best way to handle it, is of course to let the other person decide the necessary proximity between you. After all, you're on the outside of this culture looking in. It's rude to act like you know the rules. If the other person extends a hand though, it does send a pretty clear message.
I was meeting my partner's aunts and uncles when we came back for the first time. The aunts and the female cousins who were there did the kiss thing, and husbands was a handshake, as with all the males there. Though one aunt and uncle weren't able to make it until later. So we talked about a lot of stuff, and the night continued swimmingly. So the uncle comes in first and makes the rounds, and it's a handshake of course. The aunt though, was as well.
So I was a little puzzled, but the night continued. We talked some more and eventually we went to see the aunt and uncle's new house they had built. So we were over there, and they started asking questions of course, and well, as it continued, I kept noticing that they were directing questions at me and using vous. It took me two or three questions to realize that they in fact were using the second person formal vous, and not referring to my partner and I, or to the three of us including my mother in law. By the end of the night, we were saying tu, and closed the night with the kissing thing, and that was that.
This also may be something I haven't really defined before, so stop me if I've already explained about how the kissing thing works here. When you kiss on both sides of the face, you actually don't kiss the person's cheek. You only make the kissing noise on both sides of the face. The only exception is if you are close enough to the person, usually blood or marriage, where that situation changes. You might kiss anywhere from 2 to 4 times. It varies by region, age, and affectation.
Now, when to vouvoyer. when to tutoyer, is hard enough to remember, but throw in that you have to keep using the same form consistently (Happily people are understanding if you make an effort, and are usually pretty cool about it.) and it's enough to have you sobbing between bites of baguette So the question becomes; how does know when one is cleared to start using the informal tu? The easiest way is to listen when they speak. If they use tu, you're golden. However, the clearest way to know for sure, will always be, much like Betty Everett sang all those years ago, it's in his kiss.
Now originally, the concept of two forms of reference comes from royalty. As we all remember, the queen's famous line, in the US at least, "We are not amused." Sometimes, we call this the royal we. Most languages of Indo-European descent have this remnant. For those who studied German, it's called duzen und siezen. English is one of the few languages that ditched the form. In fact, depending on where you are in the Spanish speaking world, the terms change. On the mainland, there's vosotros, but in South America, you need to say ustedes.
The one thing that always bothers me about this though, is that I remember my German teacher calling it "the respective form." Now, in reading this, it partially makes sense. This is the form you're supposed to use with someone older or a boss. It's showing respect to the other person. If you are really annoyed with someone, you show it by using the tu form if you don't know them well. People will be horrified if you are a native speaker of French and don't use vous. Using tu with a stranger is kind of like saying, "I have no respect for you."
Vous though,can be taken much more strongly. Vous implies not only that you don't know the person, and therefore you're forced to give them standard politeness, but furthermore you have no interest of making his or her acquaintance.
So in France, social distance is something hugely important. If you're in douby, let the other person decide where you are to be kept. It's safer for all concerned. And remember, no matter what your teachers and professors may tell you, tu and vous function less about respect, but more the ability to push someone away with a single word.
First and foremost, I should admit that even in the US, I'm a bit unsure of what to do. Nine times out of ten, I'll nod my head and say "'s'up" and just leave it at that. If it's someone I'm trying to impress, of course there's a handshake, but well, you know, it's complicated. It's not that I'm shy, but more that I never know how to deal with people when I first meet them. I really think the best phrase I ever heard to describe how Americans generally interact from each other comes from Scott Adams: "I was raised in a country, where touching meant you're standing on the same carpet. Any closer, and you were engaged."
When I came to France, his family understood the nature of the relationship between my partner and I. The first people I met were family, so pretty much the rules worked out the same as with my family. The best way to handle it, is of course to let the other person decide the necessary proximity between you. After all, you're on the outside of this culture looking in. It's rude to act like you know the rules. If the other person extends a hand though, it does send a pretty clear message.
I was meeting my partner's aunts and uncles when we came back for the first time. The aunts and the female cousins who were there did the kiss thing, and husbands was a handshake, as with all the males there. Though one aunt and uncle weren't able to make it until later. So we talked about a lot of stuff, and the night continued swimmingly. So the uncle comes in first and makes the rounds, and it's a handshake of course. The aunt though, was as well.
So I was a little puzzled, but the night continued. We talked some more and eventually we went to see the aunt and uncle's new house they had built. So we were over there, and they started asking questions of course, and well, as it continued, I kept noticing that they were directing questions at me and using vous. It took me two or three questions to realize that they in fact were using the second person formal vous, and not referring to my partner and I, or to the three of us including my mother in law. By the end of the night, we were saying tu, and closed the night with the kissing thing, and that was that.
This also may be something I haven't really defined before, so stop me if I've already explained about how the kissing thing works here. When you kiss on both sides of the face, you actually don't kiss the person's cheek. You only make the kissing noise on both sides of the face. The only exception is if you are close enough to the person, usually blood or marriage, where that situation changes. You might kiss anywhere from 2 to 4 times. It varies by region, age, and affectation.
Now, when to vouvoyer. when to tutoyer, is hard enough to remember, but throw in that you have to keep using the same form consistently (Happily people are understanding if you make an effort, and are usually pretty cool about it.) and it's enough to have you sobbing between bites of baguette So the question becomes; how does know when one is cleared to start using the informal tu? The easiest way is to listen when they speak. If they use tu, you're golden. However, the clearest way to know for sure, will always be, much like Betty Everett sang all those years ago, it's in his kiss.
Now originally, the concept of two forms of reference comes from royalty. As we all remember, the queen's famous line, in the US at least, "We are not amused." Sometimes, we call this the royal we. Most languages of Indo-European descent have this remnant. For those who studied German, it's called duzen und siezen. English is one of the few languages that ditched the form. In fact, depending on where you are in the Spanish speaking world, the terms change. On the mainland, there's vosotros, but in South America, you need to say ustedes.
The one thing that always bothers me about this though, is that I remember my German teacher calling it "the respective form." Now, in reading this, it partially makes sense. This is the form you're supposed to use with someone older or a boss. It's showing respect to the other person. If you are really annoyed with someone, you show it by using the tu form if you don't know them well. People will be horrified if you are a native speaker of French and don't use vous. Using tu with a stranger is kind of like saying, "I have no respect for you."
Vous though,can be taken much more strongly. Vous implies not only that you don't know the person, and therefore you're forced to give them standard politeness, but furthermore you have no interest of making his or her acquaintance.
So in France, social distance is something hugely important. If you're in douby, let the other person decide where you are to be kept. It's safer for all concerned. And remember, no matter what your teachers and professors may tell you, tu and vous function less about respect, but more the ability to push someone away with a single word.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
So who am I translating this for...?
Wednesday was absolutely hectic! My mother-in-law was leaving for a trip in the morning, and then in the afternoon we had to go up to Rennes to submit the paperwork for our new apartment. That meant we had to take showers and be out of the house by about 10:15 at the latest. Now this doesn't sound like some feat for most people, but well, I have severe issues with having motivation some days. Seriously, nothing is ever as simple as it appears to be.
But well, we get my mother-in-law set to go, and we head out in the car to Rennes. I took the iPod with me because even though we'd talk the whole way up, I like to have music. So we talked about nothing important and everything necessary at the same time. We finally get to Rennes, and that's when we have to whip out the map to get the right way around.
We park the car and agree that after he's submitted the paperwork, I'll just meet him. Of course, where is the logical question. I can't drive, and I have no way to get around the city. Plus we didn't know how long it was going to take. So looking around for a second, I tell him I'll meet him in front of the bar down on the corner. He says that he really doesn't want to have to go in, and I said, "no problem. I'll check outside every now and again." So he goes into the agency and I head back on what I think is the street, which it wasn't. So whatever. I find the right road and I'm on my merry way.
Now as I'm walking back, I start thinking about what I know of French bars and brasseries. They're never terribly nice affairs. Most always have this gritty feeling to me. They may be in the most chic sections of town possible, but they always smell of cigarettes, coffee, and if the weather's warm enough, sweat. So there I am thinking about all this and realizing that I really don't want to go in there myself now, but as I'm walking, I notice a place just across the road. The sign above it even has my favorite word in French; patisserie! So I walk across the street and they have this cute little patio area, so I have to go in!
I order a coffee and a croissant, grab a paper and sit down. I am just reading through the articles, of course the paper is about a week old, but like I really read the paper enough to know otherwise, and am slowly drinking my coffee. (This is one of the awesome things about places like this. If you bought something, you've pretty much paid for your spot for a good 3 hours minimum.)
As I said, I'm reading through the articles, though as I progress I start to notice how slow I seem to be going. I looked at my watch and realized that I had spent about 20 minutes reading the same three paragraphs in this article about the Tour de France. I mean, I've been here almost 2 years now. This didn't make sense!
So, unfazed, I continued my search for the problem. I went back to reading, a little more self-aware this time. I read over the text again to see whats holding me up. No, I know all the words. The sentence structure isn't anymore complex than normal. I keep trying to fire off reasons why I might be so slow at this. As I'm re-reading the same three paragraphs for the third time, I suddenly figure out what the problem is. It was something I had always done so I hadn't even thought about it until that very second. I actually had to chuckle to myself when I came to the realization that whenever I read something I would first read the French and then translate it into English before I comprehended what was actually on the page!
When I first came to France and could barely understand what anyone was saying, due to the fact that I had never really spoken much French before, in addition to being baffled by subjunctives, I used to read everything I could. If there was a sign, I would try and think how to translate it into English. I could tell you what every sign between Route Nationale 24 and Route Nationale 10 meant. I figured if I could translate what everything said into English, then I'd make the connections and it would all come together.
I'll run you through a quick scenario. Whenever we go to Rennes, there's a sign that says "Guer: Porte du Morbihan." (Guer is a small city right as you enter into the department of Morbihan [56] in this case coming from Ile et Vilaine [35] where Rennes is located.) If one were to translate it directly, it would simply be "Guer: door of Morbihan." However, that doesn't flow as smoothly as it could in English. So one starts to think about what "porte" really means in French. Well, "porte" can mean door, but as I figured out when passing the signs on the Rocades and the Rennes soccer stadium, it can also mean gate. So now we have a better understanding of it being a gate, but well, that's still a little strange. In English, usually a gate doesn't take of, it tends to take to. So we correct in our mind to "Guer: Gate to Morbihan." We can do better than that though.
The meaning of gate in this case is a figurative gate, not an actual locking door that closes and makes entry impossible. So in this figurative sense, it could be said that the city of Guer was welcoming one to the department. Therefore, it would have to be something relating to a gate, but less imposing. So what is there in English that would be representing a figurative boundary between two places, but in a welcoming sense? Of course, a gateway!
I'm a sucker for a language mystery, so while I found all this absolutely intriguing and very much interesting, it starts to wear other people out, the more often you ask for translations. You start to internalize this process, and it becomes second nature. You don't even realize that you're turning "desormais" into henceforth/from now on/now as the situation calls for before you actually comprehend what you've read.
So I started reading the article without translating. I still got all the sense of the article and I probably got through 3 or 4 more in the time I had spent on the first. I was pretty impressed, but decided I should check if Mathieu was there. He was, and not looking too happy, so I paid quick, and got out of there. It turns out we needed more paperwork... So we went back home, drove another hour back, gave them the paperwork, and then had some fun in Rennes. We were so exhausted at the end we just came home and had Mc Donalds.
I've learned my lesson now, and I hope this serves as a cautionary tale. The next time you're reading an article in a foreign language , check to see how you're going about it. It may be time to ask yourself: Who exactly are you translating for?
But well, we get my mother-in-law set to go, and we head out in the car to Rennes. I took the iPod with me because even though we'd talk the whole way up, I like to have music. So we talked about nothing important and everything necessary at the same time. We finally get to Rennes, and that's when we have to whip out the map to get the right way around.
We park the car and agree that after he's submitted the paperwork, I'll just meet him. Of course, where is the logical question. I can't drive, and I have no way to get around the city. Plus we didn't know how long it was going to take. So looking around for a second, I tell him I'll meet him in front of the bar down on the corner. He says that he really doesn't want to have to go in, and I said, "no problem. I'll check outside every now and again." So he goes into the agency and I head back on what I think is the street, which it wasn't. So whatever. I find the right road and I'm on my merry way.
Now as I'm walking back, I start thinking about what I know of French bars and brasseries. They're never terribly nice affairs. Most always have this gritty feeling to me. They may be in the most chic sections of town possible, but they always smell of cigarettes, coffee, and if the weather's warm enough, sweat. So there I am thinking about all this and realizing that I really don't want to go in there myself now, but as I'm walking, I notice a place just across the road. The sign above it even has my favorite word in French; patisserie! So I walk across the street and they have this cute little patio area, so I have to go in!
I order a coffee and a croissant, grab a paper and sit down. I am just reading through the articles, of course the paper is about a week old, but like I really read the paper enough to know otherwise, and am slowly drinking my coffee. (This is one of the awesome things about places like this. If you bought something, you've pretty much paid for your spot for a good 3 hours minimum.)
As I said, I'm reading through the articles, though as I progress I start to notice how slow I seem to be going. I looked at my watch and realized that I had spent about 20 minutes reading the same three paragraphs in this article about the Tour de France. I mean, I've been here almost 2 years now. This didn't make sense!
So, unfazed, I continued my search for the problem. I went back to reading, a little more self-aware this time. I read over the text again to see whats holding me up. No, I know all the words. The sentence structure isn't anymore complex than normal. I keep trying to fire off reasons why I might be so slow at this. As I'm re-reading the same three paragraphs for the third time, I suddenly figure out what the problem is. It was something I had always done so I hadn't even thought about it until that very second. I actually had to chuckle to myself when I came to the realization that whenever I read something I would first read the French and then translate it into English before I comprehended what was actually on the page!
When I first came to France and could barely understand what anyone was saying, due to the fact that I had never really spoken much French before, in addition to being baffled by subjunctives, I used to read everything I could. If there was a sign, I would try and think how to translate it into English. I could tell you what every sign between Route Nationale 24 and Route Nationale 10 meant. I figured if I could translate what everything said into English, then I'd make the connections and it would all come together.
I'll run you through a quick scenario. Whenever we go to Rennes, there's a sign that says "Guer: Porte du Morbihan." (Guer is a small city right as you enter into the department of Morbihan [56] in this case coming from Ile et Vilaine [35] where Rennes is located.) If one were to translate it directly, it would simply be "Guer: door of Morbihan." However, that doesn't flow as smoothly as it could in English. So one starts to think about what "porte" really means in French. Well, "porte" can mean door, but as I figured out when passing the signs on the Rocades and the Rennes soccer stadium, it can also mean gate. So now we have a better understanding of it being a gate, but well, that's still a little strange. In English, usually a gate doesn't take of, it tends to take to. So we correct in our mind to "Guer: Gate to Morbihan." We can do better than that though.
The meaning of gate in this case is a figurative gate, not an actual locking door that closes and makes entry impossible. So in this figurative sense, it could be said that the city of Guer was welcoming one to the department. Therefore, it would have to be something relating to a gate, but less imposing. So what is there in English that would be representing a figurative boundary between two places, but in a welcoming sense? Of course, a gateway!
I'm a sucker for a language mystery, so while I found all this absolutely intriguing and very much interesting, it starts to wear other people out, the more often you ask for translations. You start to internalize this process, and it becomes second nature. You don't even realize that you're turning "desormais" into henceforth/from now on/now as the situation calls for before you actually comprehend what you've read.
So I started reading the article without translating. I still got all the sense of the article and I probably got through 3 or 4 more in the time I had spent on the first. I was pretty impressed, but decided I should check if Mathieu was there. He was, and not looking too happy, so I paid quick, and got out of there. It turns out we needed more paperwork... So we went back home, drove another hour back, gave them the paperwork, and then had some fun in Rennes. We were so exhausted at the end we just came home and had Mc Donalds.
I've learned my lesson now, and I hope this serves as a cautionary tale. The next time you're reading an article in a foreign language , check to see how you're going about it. It may be time to ask yourself: Who exactly are you translating for?
Monday, July 25, 2011
the sliding scale of connotation
I think one of the most fascinating things I've noticed in French, that exists in every language but one never notices in one they've spoken all there lives because that's just how it is, is the sliding scale of word strength. For me, never was this more apparent than having a conversation with a friend of my mother-in-law's at the foot of the stairs. We were talking about something, and she mentioned that it was "carrément bien." The conversation continued, but while we were talking, the hamster got on his wheel.
I had thought back to other conversations I had previously with not only her among other friends, but also with other members of my family. There seemed to be a class of words, all meaning various degrees of "really" that could be used almost interchangeably with a slight change in meaning. I am sure there's a technical term for this among Francophone scholars, but I liken it to what I jokingly referred to with my brother once as the sliding scale of sexuality. This, however; we'll call the sliding scale of connotation.
So this is by no means an exhaustive list, and if you can think of others in French I would love to hear them, but this lies in the case of really. Now in some ways, this really functions exactly the same as the English adverb. Crazy as it might sound, you take two languages as inextricably intertwined as English and French, and wow! --They're related! Quel coincidence! So the list that I came up with in my head was: "franchement," "carrément," "vraiment," and "vachement." Each has the core idea of truth, but each carries a slightly different tone of connotation.
When one sees the word "franche" in French, it tends to be most directly translated as "frank." For a variety of reasons, I find this far more amusing than I have any right to. First and foremost though, there is the element of historical assumption in all this. As I said, this is assumption on my part, but the word "frank" is assumed to descend from the Old French word "franc" which in turn finds earlier roots in the Latin word "francus," meaning "free." Logically, we can make the leap that one who is free would be able to say things in a frank manner. Therefore, if something is described as "franchement" it can be inferred that the person is also able to speak candidly, openly, or any other variant that we have in English.
Another interesting side point: France itself or parts of France have been given variants on the nomenclature of "frank" and "franche." Of course, that varies by country of origin. For example, in most Germanic languages, the name of France often incorporates some variant on "free kingdom." In German, it is known as "Frankreich," Dutch only varies the spelling and pronunciation slightly with "Frankrijk," and Norwegian about the same with "Frankrike." Even languages like Welsh use some form of the original "franc" in its word for the country.
Also, there is a region located in the east of France known as "Franche-Comté" which translates to "Free County." It was originally a free country of Burgundy, and changed hands numerous times being taken by France first from the Burgundian Dukes, then taken by Austria, then Spain, and Finally returning to French control with the Treary of Nijmegen in 1678. It is comprised of four provinces (Jura, Doubs, Haute-Saône, and Territoire de Belfort) and has two dialects of spoken French (Langue d'Oïl and Arpitan) both falling under the Franco-Provençal sub group of the larger Romance family.
Getting back to the bloody point (don't tempt me because I could easily blow a load over sub-languages in France. I'm in freaking Brittany for pete's sake!) carrément, in my opinion, seems to be the most devoted to truth, I most often find myself translating it as bluntly. However, one of my favorite ways to look at it is as "the unvarnished truth." If something is described as "carrément," there are neither two schools of thought nor two ways to slice it.
The root word "carré" is most often used when discussing anything square. For example, in math when you want to say square root, it's simply said "carré." When you're looking for an apartment, all the sizes will be described in metre carré instead of square feet. Funny enough, a person can also be described as carré. It's kind of like saying someone is big boned in English, but almost always if not always refers to a male.
A word I've had some difficulty differentiating is carreau. Carreau also refers to square things, but in this case, they are more tangible. Floor tiles would be described as carreaux, the plural form of carreau, as well as the suit of diamonds in a card game. However, it should also be noted that if you live in France, the most dreaded use of carreaux will be in "faire les carreaux." This literally means to wash the windows, but that's where the similarity stops. If it were an Olympic sport, France would be a force to be reckoned with. Americans break out the Windex and we're good, but the French are going old school with a squeegee. Conveniently, you'll learn the all important phrase combination of "Putain, ça m'enerve!" while doing it and the even more important "faites chier!" if it rains the following week.
Vraiment, you would assume, is the most straightforward of the bunch, but such is not the case. In general, vraiment implies a sense of truth or actuality. The French word for true is baked right in there, after all. However; it also most commonly works out to the intensifier really. This form is the most pure sense of reality of the group. I know it's strange to say one word implies the truth but has less to do with reality, but it's not always the case that truth and reality go hand in hand.
Now for my personal favorite of the bunch (purely for its level of inexplicability); vachement! Translated literally, this means "cowlike." I kid you not; "cowlike." For those of you who have studied French, you're probably familiar with the phrase "Oh, la vache!" This phrase implies that something is incredible. (I am sure that others out there have probably seen the Monty Python Movie and the famous quote "Faites chier la vache." I'll let you translate that gem on your own. I have no idea why something would relate to a cow as wonderful, but then again, I'm only two-thirds French and pretty far removed at that.
Now there are all sorts of intersecting ideas here, and I'm sure there are other words that come in here too. As I said, these are the impressions that I have gotten. I am by no means an actual scholar of French further than I am learning as I go. Mais pour moi, je vais vachement bien, et j'espère qu'on parlerait très bientôt! à plus tard!
I had thought back to other conversations I had previously with not only her among other friends, but also with other members of my family. There seemed to be a class of words, all meaning various degrees of "really" that could be used almost interchangeably with a slight change in meaning. I am sure there's a technical term for this among Francophone scholars, but I liken it to what I jokingly referred to with my brother once as the sliding scale of sexuality. This, however; we'll call the sliding scale of connotation.
So this is by no means an exhaustive list, and if you can think of others in French I would love to hear them, but this lies in the case of really. Now in some ways, this really functions exactly the same as the English adverb. Crazy as it might sound, you take two languages as inextricably intertwined as English and French, and wow! --They're related! Quel coincidence! So the list that I came up with in my head was: "franchement," "carrément," "vraiment," and "vachement." Each has the core idea of truth, but each carries a slightly different tone of connotation.
When one sees the word "franche" in French, it tends to be most directly translated as "frank." For a variety of reasons, I find this far more amusing than I have any right to. First and foremost though, there is the element of historical assumption in all this. As I said, this is assumption on my part, but the word "frank" is assumed to descend from the Old French word "franc" which in turn finds earlier roots in the Latin word "francus," meaning "free." Logically, we can make the leap that one who is free would be able to say things in a frank manner. Therefore, if something is described as "franchement" it can be inferred that the person is also able to speak candidly, openly, or any other variant that we have in English.
Another interesting side point: France itself or parts of France have been given variants on the nomenclature of "frank" and "franche." Of course, that varies by country of origin. For example, in most Germanic languages, the name of France often incorporates some variant on "free kingdom." In German, it is known as "Frankreich," Dutch only varies the spelling and pronunciation slightly with "Frankrijk," and Norwegian about the same with "Frankrike." Even languages like Welsh use some form of the original "franc" in its word for the country.
Also, there is a region located in the east of France known as "Franche-Comté" which translates to "Free County." It was originally a free country of Burgundy, and changed hands numerous times being taken by France first from the Burgundian Dukes, then taken by Austria, then Spain, and Finally returning to French control with the Treary of Nijmegen in 1678. It is comprised of four provinces (Jura, Doubs, Haute-Saône, and Territoire de Belfort) and has two dialects of spoken French (Langue d'Oïl and Arpitan) both falling under the Franco-Provençal sub group of the larger Romance family.
Getting back to the bloody point (don't tempt me because I could easily blow a load over sub-languages in France. I'm in freaking Brittany for pete's sake!) carrément, in my opinion, seems to be the most devoted to truth, I most often find myself translating it as bluntly. However, one of my favorite ways to look at it is as "the unvarnished truth." If something is described as "carrément," there are neither two schools of thought nor two ways to slice it.
The root word "carré" is most often used when discussing anything square. For example, in math when you want to say square root, it's simply said "carré." When you're looking for an apartment, all the sizes will be described in metre carré instead of square feet. Funny enough, a person can also be described as carré. It's kind of like saying someone is big boned in English, but almost always if not always refers to a male.
A word I've had some difficulty differentiating is carreau. Carreau also refers to square things, but in this case, they are more tangible. Floor tiles would be described as carreaux, the plural form of carreau, as well as the suit of diamonds in a card game. However, it should also be noted that if you live in France, the most dreaded use of carreaux will be in "faire les carreaux." This literally means to wash the windows, but that's where the similarity stops. If it were an Olympic sport, France would be a force to be reckoned with. Americans break out the Windex and we're good, but the French are going old school with a squeegee. Conveniently, you'll learn the all important phrase combination of "Putain, ça m'enerve!" while doing it and the even more important "faites chier!" if it rains the following week.
Vraiment, you would assume, is the most straightforward of the bunch, but such is not the case. In general, vraiment implies a sense of truth or actuality. The French word for true is baked right in there, after all. However; it also most commonly works out to the intensifier really. This form is the most pure sense of reality of the group. I know it's strange to say one word implies the truth but has less to do with reality, but it's not always the case that truth and reality go hand in hand.
Now for my personal favorite of the bunch (purely for its level of inexplicability); vachement! Translated literally, this means "cowlike." I kid you not; "cowlike." For those of you who have studied French, you're probably familiar with the phrase "Oh, la vache!" This phrase implies that something is incredible. (I am sure that others out there have probably seen the Monty Python Movie and the famous quote "Faites chier la vache." I'll let you translate that gem on your own. I have no idea why something would relate to a cow as wonderful, but then again, I'm only two-thirds French and pretty far removed at that.
Now there are all sorts of intersecting ideas here, and I'm sure there are other words that come in here too. As I said, these are the impressions that I have gotten. I am by no means an actual scholar of French further than I am learning as I go. Mais pour moi, je vais vachement bien, et j'espère qu'on parlerait très bientôt! à plus tard!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
So wow...
Did something ever just get completely away from you...like for a really long time? So I'll say that's what happened here. I'll try and be more faithful about posting. I find it incredible that people actually joined after I stopped posting, so well, I'll try and be less disappointing in that respect. A lot's happened, and I think a lot more will be happening.
So I'm no longer in Loir-et-Cher. We've moved since to Morbihan, and have been here for a while. A lot's happened and I don't care to explain it all, although I have more post ideas now, and a much better grasp of how the French language works, but it's important to remember this is all for fun. I'd love to know if any of your Francophones think this is an hilarious little blemish to your language. Allez, devinez!
I should be moving to Rennes coming up here in a few months. My partner has decided to return to medical school, as it's impossible for him to do what he really wants without it. So we'll see how that all goes! Expect more in the future, and maybe even some ridiculous attempts at more explanations of French things! So we continue. For those who are knew, bienvenue, or Degemer Mat, whichever you prefer!
So I'm no longer in Loir-et-Cher. We've moved since to Morbihan, and have been here for a while. A lot's happened and I don't care to explain it all, although I have more post ideas now, and a much better grasp of how the French language works, but it's important to remember this is all for fun. I'd love to know if any of your Francophones think this is an hilarious little blemish to your language. Allez, devinez!
I should be moving to Rennes coming up here in a few months. My partner has decided to return to medical school, as it's impossible for him to do what he really wants without it. So we'll see how that all goes! Expect more in the future, and maybe even some ridiculous attempts at more explanations of French things! So we continue. For those who are knew, bienvenue, or Degemer Mat, whichever you prefer!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Joyeuse Pâques!
So today I had an incredible meal at my brother in law's parents. Seriously, incredible eating. As with all French meals, there were multiple courses. First there was the aperitif. We had champagne and batonette, feuilletée wrapped sausages and empanadas. Pretty good way to start out if I don't say so myself. Then we had the pâte au Pâques. To explain, because this has to be explained, it is similar to a pâte feuilletée surrounding more farce, sausage I think, surrounding an egg. It's cut up so that all pieces have a little of everything. For the main plate there was a vegetable quiche, rabbit stuffed turkey breast, and mousseline de carrot.
Mousseline is this really velvety puree that's strained extra fine and is without lumps. I can't explain how wonderful this is, so you will just have to believe me. It's good with carrots, but I could imagine it to be Jesus when done with potatoes. Apparently, you can make a mousseline with a lot of different things. I was looking up some more stuff about it, and someone was talking about a mousseline de Coquille St. Jacques (scallops,) So it's a mad world. We'll just leave it at that.
So after that there was cheese. There was a Corsican cheese, which was damn near incredible, manchego, which is always incredible, and goat cheese, which I could do without myself. Ah well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. But yeah, there's something about good quality cheese with bread that's just well, amazing. So yeah, we move along.
Now dessert was the kicker. There were two finger desserts. there was one that was pieces of pâte à choux covered with chocolate, sliced toasted almonds, and orange zest. It was very good, and very light. It was really perfect after a meal like the one we had. The other, was even lighter, if that's possible. They were like what we Americans would call cream puffs (profiteroles for those more brave) but they weren't filled with that god awful pudding, neither ice cream nor whipped cream. I desperately need to learn how to make the cream they were filled with, which is called Creme St. Honore. (Honoratus)
Now this is kind of an interesting story. The reason why it's called Creme St. Honore is to honor the Saint, obviously, but more than that, St. Honore is the patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs. I found this incredibly amusing, but at the same time, it felt a little like St. Prada, our lady of accessories.
Creme St. Honore is a pastry cream, so something like Creme Anglaise, that is mixed with stiffly beaten egg whites. It ends up something like an incredibly light, uncooked meringue. It's incredible. Seriously, look it up and make it. Just eat it out of the bowl. Totally good enough to do just that.
Of course, would it be Easter without an Easter Egg hunt? So my youngest niece, being 6, searched around the jardin for the eggs. She found them all, and spoiled her appetite. She's little, it's what kids do. She ate some, and of course had room for dessert, but she didn't eat much of the meal. All told, we spent about 6 hours there. We talked a lot, and had a great time.
I should have some new stuff as we will be going on a week long trip to Tours. I will have pictures most likely, as well as some videos up on youtube. So hopefully you'll find something to your liking. I am very excited about it. The first meal in Tours? You guessed it: Quick!
Happy Easter to all, and I hope you celebrated to the best of your ability. (For some, that means one Irish Car Bomb for each of the 12 apostles. If you can walk after John, Peter and Paul are on the house!)
Mousseline is this really velvety puree that's strained extra fine and is without lumps. I can't explain how wonderful this is, so you will just have to believe me. It's good with carrots, but I could imagine it to be Jesus when done with potatoes. Apparently, you can make a mousseline with a lot of different things. I was looking up some more stuff about it, and someone was talking about a mousseline de Coquille St. Jacques (scallops,) So it's a mad world. We'll just leave it at that.
So after that there was cheese. There was a Corsican cheese, which was damn near incredible, manchego, which is always incredible, and goat cheese, which I could do without myself. Ah well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. But yeah, there's something about good quality cheese with bread that's just well, amazing. So yeah, we move along.
Now dessert was the kicker. There were two finger desserts. there was one that was pieces of pâte à choux covered with chocolate, sliced toasted almonds, and orange zest. It was very good, and very light. It was really perfect after a meal like the one we had. The other, was even lighter, if that's possible. They were like what we Americans would call cream puffs (profiteroles for those more brave) but they weren't filled with that god awful pudding, neither ice cream nor whipped cream. I desperately need to learn how to make the cream they were filled with, which is called Creme St. Honore. (Honoratus)
Now this is kind of an interesting story. The reason why it's called Creme St. Honore is to honor the Saint, obviously, but more than that, St. Honore is the patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs. I found this incredibly amusing, but at the same time, it felt a little like St. Prada, our lady of accessories.
Creme St. Honore is a pastry cream, so something like Creme Anglaise, that is mixed with stiffly beaten egg whites. It ends up something like an incredibly light, uncooked meringue. It's incredible. Seriously, look it up and make it. Just eat it out of the bowl. Totally good enough to do just that.
Of course, would it be Easter without an Easter Egg hunt? So my youngest niece, being 6, searched around the jardin for the eggs. She found them all, and spoiled her appetite. She's little, it's what kids do. She ate some, and of course had room for dessert, but she didn't eat much of the meal. All told, we spent about 6 hours there. We talked a lot, and had a great time.
I should have some new stuff as we will be going on a week long trip to Tours. I will have pictures most likely, as well as some videos up on youtube. So hopefully you'll find something to your liking. I am very excited about it. The first meal in Tours? You guessed it: Quick!
Happy Easter to all, and I hope you celebrated to the best of your ability. (For some, that means one Irish Car Bomb for each of the 12 apostles. If you can walk after John, Peter and Paul are on the house!)
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