The end of winter was evident this month but was loathe to let go. The days became warmer as the weeks went by, but the winds, cold and crisp, refused to soften. Toward the end of the month both the UK and France endured a terrible storm. We’d received advisories to refrain from driving (we don’t have a car, no worries there) and to stay indoors when possible. One of the days, the wind didn’t seem too terrible and G zipped around the corner to grab his afternoon beer. By the time he got into the cafe, the storm arrived. He sent me a sound recording by text of the racket from the inside, that the cafe was experiencing. Apparently the awnings (even though folded in) were ripping off the building. They had to let customers in by key because the doors were forcefully, blowing open, if they weren’t locked. Although they hadn’t closed, he returned quickly and as we watched the winds from our apt windows, the long building banners on the opera house were ripped off their holdings. The UK, Scotland and Ireland were experiencing hurricane force winds – the worst at 122 mph, with trees being up rooted, roofs blown off and cars being blown off the roads. Although much less than the UK got, the news reports stated that this was the worst wind ever experienced in France, calling it a rare ’Sting Jet’ storm. Fortunately it came and left within two days, without fatalities.
Besides the subject of the weather, our apologies to you that we got a late start on this month’s journal. I can put full blame on the French, or rather, the French language class we are taking. It is all encompassing and many things slip to the back burner.
Towards the beginning of the month, around the plaza and our street, the Justice Ministers of the 27-country EU met in the Chamber of Commerce & Industry building, next to the Opera House, in advance of a March gathering in Brussels, concerning the Schengen Treaty and its relation to asylum seekers. It was quite the buzz on the street with backpack checks, Limo vans, motorcycle and horse police present, hustle and bustle. It went from a Friday through to the end of Saturday. By Sunday morning, all police presence and barriers were gone.
Perhaps because we weren’t traveling, we did a couple of things we hadn’t done since our twenties. The first was binge watch a horror series called, “The Haunting of Bly Manor”. We started it leisurely, in our separate arm chairs and ended up snuggled on the couch, finishing the series at 2 am, before going to bed.
The second thing was that we watched the Superbowl for the first time since leaving the states. At 12:30 am. With beer and mini sandwiches. Got to bed at 3:45. Yep, felt like a kid – until the next morning, of course. But it was a GREAT game. Didn’t have any team alliances other than the fact that one was the LA Rams. It was a close game – the best kind. We used to watch the first game of the season when we lived in Denver, to herald in the fall. I would put a turkey in the oven, we would have beer, snack on cheeses, sausages and crackers while the turkey-smell filled the house. Fall’s official beginning. The closest thing we’ve done here is make a nice lamb dinner to herald the beginning of spring. But no game.
In the second week of February, we finished the six-week French course which we started at the beginning of January. I was telling the truth when I said that the language classes are all encompassing. I don’t recall my learning of Spanish being as hard as this, but that was in my 20’s.
We enjoyed our last day in class, which ended with a test. I didn’t fear it, for as an adult and it not being part of a college curriculum, it has no consequence on a needed grade. There is also the factor that they won’t shoot me and I won’t get demoted, if I don’t do well. It will, however, highlight on what I need to study, which I think tests were actually meant to do. A solid tool to see the learning gap and zero in on your studies. As an adult – no anxiety here. As expected, I failed miserably at the verbal section but we both did – it’s a real problem for both of us. Reading a language is done at your own speed. Listening to it spoken, the brain really has to gear up for the rapid delivery, translating it mentally before needing to write it down in French.
With that test and class closed, we signed up for the second tier of the A1 class, which runs for 8 weeks. To add pain to misery, we also signed up for a tutor, one day a week, for an hour and a half, to run the full 8 weeks as well. Which of course translates into 4 days of class a week, a total of 9 hours spent attending, not including the homework, of course. We are gluttons for punishment.
However, in the week break we had, not only did we manage to get all the necessities taken care of (laundry, food shopping, cleaning, doctor appointments), we hopped on a train for a day trip to Valenciennes – a 40 minute ride. It was recommended by a previous (and favorite) upstairs neighbor, Cecil. The ride was peaceful, the landscape serene. We found the center plaza, spent the afternoon walking the streets and stopped for a lunch before heading back to Lille. It has a good art museum, apparently, but we were not in the mood to push ourselves time-wise.
The quiet week ended and we were back to French language lessons. The first six week session had six other students. This eight week session has the same instructor which is nice and only two other students, which is really advantageous for a faster pace and more interchange. Still, it sometimes feels like a kind of Atreyu and Artex journey through the mud, in Never Ending Story. But I breathe deeply, mentally immersed in the belief that I will come out the other end of this, seamlessly ordering from a dinner menu, all in French. I add to that the picture of arranging an appointment over the phone, also in seamless French. Hell, even ANSWERING the phone here, without spitting out, ‘I don’t speak French’ to the caller, who is trying to arrange something like a delivery who is naturally speaking French, would thrill me down to my socks. I’ve been reminded that perseverance, tenacity, stubbornness – can also all be part of being stark, raving mad. As is the word ‘optimistic’ which I must be as well, thinking that I won’t go insane trying to accomplish this feat. But the alternative is to give up, which I will not, not, not do.
You may want to skip the next few paragraphs as I rant about learning this language. I’ve explained to a good friend some of the intricacies of this language in just trying to comprehend the audio exercise regarding numbers. French numbers go from a recognizable singular word (20 – vingt, 30 – trente, etc) until after 60 when it goes to impossible combinations. 70 is 60+10 (soixante-dix) then 60 +11,12,13,14,etc.) 80 is 4×20(quatre-vingt) + (1,2,3,4) then 90 is 4×20 + (goes back to 10,11,12,13 – like 70) and to hear them verbally is enough to make me fall off my perch. In Belgium and Switzerland, they’ve gone to, for me, the easier 70 (septante), 80 (huitante/octante) and 90 (nonante).
One must say phone numbers a certain way – in two’s (sixty-five, thirty-nine, twenty-four) and the way to say years is the mil, hundred, and then the last two digits (like – one thousand, nine hundred, sixty eight). I not only need to know the numbers up to 100 to handle that but the mil, cent and then the groupings specific to certain information.
Now, if you can handle that idea, then there are terms of telling time. After applying the newly learned numbering systems to a clock that is on the 24 hour ‘military time’, there is more. There is a whole added informal spoken piece, other than the standard way of stating the hour and minutes (15h35). It roughly translates into saying the coming hour minus five, ten, fifteen, twenty and twenty five minutes. So, you have 13h40, trieze heure quarante OR you can say 14H minus 20, quatorze heure, moins vingt – and they are both stating the same time. ON TOP of that you also have six additional words for Noon, Midnight, a quarter after, the half hour and a quarter to the hour. Oh, la, la, la.
OK, a few last words on this learning part. In addition to the class, the tutor session, the homework and the flash cards, we have the internet. YouTube instruction options are immense and a lot of them are terrible. There are a multitude of YouTube options that have an annoying music intro, followed by the host using a really stressed, chippy voice which is coming out of what always looks (to me, anyway) like a mouth way too big for their face. It’s absolute hell. A couple of the episodes and the awful intro-tune worms its way into my sleep. BUT, after some determined searching, you can find those who simply say their subject matter, “The Verb …” and start reciting the conjugations, or numbers. or articles and prepositions. Those are worth their weight in gold. I have also found on YouTube, a variety of links to review A1 material, both written and verbal, which will come in handy. Being above 65, we would not have to pass a government French language test to apply for and receive a long-term resident card (10 year). And although we have no plans to become citizens, simply being able to pass that test would give us a good idea of our actual ability to communicate in French.
Now done with talking about our French language efforts, let me explain a side effect. In the aftermath of stumbling through a particularly intense class, it has become incumbent for us to fall into a bar for a Gin and Tonic. Or ‘Gin Tonics” as they’re called here. This seems to happen at least once a week. Usually after the last class of the week. We have a particular favorite, called appropriately, ‘Fool Bar’. The three owners have taken it upon themselves to help us become fluent in French. After the last week of the month, I told G after we left for home that I realized we actually were speaking entire sentences in French (albeit elementary), versus when we first started going there and could only spit out a few words.
This time too, they told us that we are the ONLY American clients they have. Not the only English speaking – the only Americans. I’m beginning to think that we are the only American residents in central Lille since we’ve been told that by some of our favorite cafes, which surprises me in a city this large. But that would also explain why each place recognized us so quickly as repeat customers. At first I thought it might be our age. Now I understand it is both our age and our nationality. Plus apparently they like our personalities – they think we are cute, little “old” people. It reminds me of the time that we stopped at a vendor who happened to have books published in English. They were for sale for 2e each and we picked up three. When I asked about buying the books, the man exclaimed excitedly, with a thick British accent, “OH, an American Accent!” I turned to him, smiling and said, “Yes. I bring it with me every day. I packed it with my clothes.” and left him laughing. It is impossible for me to tell a joke in French. I miss that. Once we left, we both talked about the fact that in a town with so few Americans, that we are representing our country and that we’d better be on our best behavior in public – and we laughed like crazy. Sorry about that, America.
We had the opportunity to join an on-line cooking class, hosted by the same couple we spent a week with in Uzes, Eric and Yetunde of ‘Let’s Eat The World’. There were 15 other participants, most from the US, spread from the west coast to the east coast. It was great to see Eric again and with his instruction we cooked a delicious Bouef Bourguignon. In the food area, we have also been educating ourselves regarding the names of fish in the markets, in order to prepare things we haven’t made before, like Pomfret, which is a butterfish. Before knowing how to cook it, we have to research what exactly it is, since we don’t know the name. At the markets, we’ve taken a picture of their handwritten signs and gone home to study what it was we were looking at before returning the following week to buy the fish for dinner.
On the last weekend this month, we went to the convention center, to an International Tattoo event. I dragged G because I loved the poster in town, which is now adorning our bathroom interior door. The conference was quite the experience. We saw row after row of stalls, all had the artwork hanging of each artist and their country location – plus massage type beds with people getting tattoos. Some stalls had a line – I’m sure if you are a tattoo oficionado, you know and follow the big names. Anyway it was a really cool afternoon outing.
To end the month on a great note, we were relieved to send off our US taxes electronically, and we found that in addition to my brother and niece coming for a visit in June, a very dear friend as well has decided come in May. This is the break we’ll need after our last class at the end of April !
Days generally have a sameness like it does for everyone. Saturday and Sunday is usually shopping, cleaning and laundry. Every week day is a class except Thursday, which is studying. So, ‘different day, different verb’ basically.
Overall, it’s still a terrific time here.
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