Swerving Like A Parisian in the Metro

Posted on August 17, 2011 by admin

The proper behavior in the Metro is to keep your head down and fixed to the screen of your phone at all times. Walk fast, walk straight, and above all keep a facial expression that is somewhere between disinterested and disgusted.

I wonder why everyone is so miserly on their morning and evening commute, but I’m sure I will start to share their pain once my honeymoon period here is over. There is, however, a class of people that I’m already more than willing to throw onto the tracks in the path of an onrushing train. They come in two types.

The Slow Cut.
I’m walking straight, they’re walking just a bit diagonally and a tad slower. So I want to pass them, but they’re a little ahead and are slowly crossing into my path. So I have to hold, wait, cross the other way and resume walking. And at that point they tack like a sailboat and make their way, diagonally again, in the most direct possible way to the corner they need to turn into. Cutting me off a second time.

The Sudden Swerve.
I’m walking straight, again, and I’m beginning to think that’s what I’m doing wrong here. Because this person in front of me swerves across my path as many times as they can, forcing me to change direction every minute or just hug a wall and race past them. And they do this without ever looking back. It’s like they have some sixth sense on where I am and where I’m trying to go, and they instinctively do everything in their power to make this as annoying for me as possible.

It’s all OK, though. I get my revenge as soon as we’re above ground. When I’m on my bicycle, no pedestrian is safe!

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Mots du Jour de la Semaine

Posted on August 14, 2011 by admin

This has been an excellent week for random, but super useful, words. I’ve got way more than seven so I will only share the most awesome.

Kiffer – to like something a lot. So if it’s great, you can say “c’est kiffant!”. And it’s also part 1 of the line “je l’ai kiffé, je l’ai chiné, je l’ai chopé” which means “I liked her, I flirted with her, I did her”.
Un truc de dingue/ouf – something crazy, in a good way. Ouf is fou in verlan.
Faire la bringue – similar to faire le teuf, it means party. And it combines with dingue so you can say that “la bringue était dingue” which is awesome because it rhymes.
Tellement vener – used in exclamation that something is really annoying.
Shagass/petasse – two ways to call someone a bitch. I now know officially too many crude words for women, thankfully I also learned
Ma gazelle – arab-french slang for a beautiful girl.
Dents de bonheur – literally, ‘teeth of happiness’, it’s the little gap between someone’s front teeth.
Gueule de bois – hangover. Definitely the word of the day for today…

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Toowaidoo? Or: Kisses

Posted on August 13, 2011 by admin

Tu es d’ou? - where are you from? It’s a key question here, because in France there are only two places: Paris and the Province. Almost 1 in 5 people in the country live in this city. The second biggest French city: London.

But surprisingly few people I meet are actually born & raised Parisians, and all the import is very much attached to their origins. So as much as I get asked the question where I am from, I get to return it. And it seems like the French come from only 4 places.

Lille, ie the North. This conjures up images of grey ash clouds and heavy industry, and it seems most people from Lille try to play it down. They’ll say “Well, yes, originally I’m from Lille, but I moved when I was…”

Lyon, ie Not Quite The South. Their claim to fame is being the third-biggest (I’m counting London) and that’s kinda it. Apparently it’s very nice, and not Paris.

The South. People keep telling me they’re from ‘the South’ with a kind of knowing tone of voice, as if I should ascribe mythical qualities to this place. What they don’t realize is that I associate the south with Limburg, Catholics and Carnaval, so to me it’s an endearing but not altogether positive view. Apparently it’s warmer, and the people are nicer than those in Paris. It actually sounds really nice, but I keep having this nagging thought in the back of my head that wonders why they’re all here if it’s really that great down there.

Bretagne. This has been called “The England of France” or “The California of France” depending on who is talking about it. It seems to be a place to make fun of, for its rough weather, coarseness, and general un-Frenchness. So I guess it’s actually the Ireland of France. Naturally, I sympathize with people who live in crappy weather and drink a lot, so this seems like a very good lot.

If you don’t feel like asking where your French compatriot is from, an easy way to find out is to start kissing them. No, not in that way. Just the usual introductory ones. If they do 2, they’re from the North. If they do 3, they’re from the South. If they do 4, you’ve got yourself a Breton. To make it more complicated, apparently in the South and Bretagne you start the kisses on the left cheek. This will take some time, and many awkward moments, to figure out exactly.

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A Little Bit of France Wherever You Are

Posted on August 11, 2011 by admin

If you want to approach the Parisian lifestyle, regardless of where you are, music is a good place to start. And not the über-cliche Serge or any other francophone tunes that sound like they’re doing it in the studio, and definitely not ‘Champs Elysees’, an ode to a street that least deserves it.

Nope, it’s all about Planet Nova, far and away the best radio station in the whole world. Light on ads, light on BS, just quality tune after quality tune. You can listen to it here

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The Sortie, part 1

Posted on August 6, 2011 by admin

A recurring feature here is the wildly dysfunctional approach people have towards directions. I ask someone working at the grocery store where I can find a product, and they respond “Not here, can you see it here?” and then they go back to their own business. Putting it mildly, it’s evasive behavior.

This is a photo of the Moët & Chandon cellars’ evacuation plan. Realistically it should just say: in case of emergency, pop a few bottles and enjoy your last moments because there is no way you’re ever getting out.

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I’ll come back to this topic a few more times, but first I have to gather some photographic evidence of the dehumanizing experience called ‘finding the exit of the metro station’.

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