Aug 21, 2009

France vs Guadeloupe, and I don't mean who can hold the longest strike





http://www.ciscoshow.com/6-differences-entre-la-france-et-la-guadeloupe-ou-le-contraire

I found this blog, and well, I guess my French is improving because some of the stuff I can actually read, understand, and appreciate, which for this Americaine is quite shocking.
The proof is in the pudding, I must be somewhat Gwada-ized since I can appreciate the humor in this post about the difference between France and Guadeloupe.

Translation (as always, not perfect)

"To begin, I'd like to repeat a phrase I heard a while ago, 'Guadeloupe is France, but France is not Guadeloupe'. There it is, and now I'll make a little attack with a list of the differences between Guadeloupe and France:

1. In France, gas costs around 1,23 euros per liter. In Guadeloupe, gas costs 1,08 euros per liter. (+1 Guadeloupe)

2. In France, tomatoes are 4,85 euros per kilo. In Guadeloupe, after the strikes, we had no more trouble finding tomatoes at 2 euros per kilo. (+2 Guadeloupe)

3. In France, rum costs about 16 euros per liter. In Guadeloupe, rum costs about 7 euros per liter. (+3 Guadeloupe)

4. In Paris, to go to the beach, you take the A6, the A10, the train or a plane (if you're poor you stay in Paris beach). In Guadeloupe....(4 zip, Guadeloupe)

5. In France, a high speed Internet connection costs 30 euros a month for 20 Megabytes, phone is free 24/7, and dozens of free cable channels. In Guadeloupe, when you have Internet and the connection is good, you know it's going to be a good day. (+1 France)

6. In France, even summer is a bit chilly. In Guadeloupe, even winter can be too hot.

5-1, Guadeloupe wins...for the moment! You need to travel outside of your island to know that you can feel good there after all."


Image of Paris beach: Paris Plage 2004, Photo by Pascal Fonquernie, parismarais.com

Aug 20, 2009

This one day I was kite surfing, and almost had my ear cut off...



That's actually a loosely quoted sentence from a friend of mine. Yesterday we went to watch him and some other people do some kite surfing, a big thing here on the windy south eastern coastlines. I'm no expert, but did find some nice explanations of kite surfing in Guadeloupe along with information about lessons - in English.
I took some photos, and perhaps
against my better judgement (read:moms worried
voice echoing in my head) decided that I'd like to give it a try someday. Someday when there is hardly anyone in the water that is. The idea of some of the strings that connect the kite to the surf(er) coming by my ear at such a speed that the ear almost swims with the fish on its own makes the experience so inviting, I mean all I have to do is come out with my ears intact and I'm a success!


cable tv, a tool for language learning and just plain making fun of people

We recently drilled holes into the outside of our home in order to mount the satellite dish for CanalSat. After months of me pleading my case to the Pirate, he finally gave in and went out to get the family the gift of slower brain waves, satellite cable. It took me some time, and I'm sure those days of tears didn't hurt, but my argument that my French would improve drastically with viewings of Télé Maison under my belt has finally resulted in the dish being strapped to the building, the beam of the life of so many channels entering our lives. As long as the wind doesn't come up too strong.

So far Télé Maison takes the top spot for my viewing, followed closely by planet, followed by Friends dubbed over in French, which I find hysterical. The voices are not quite the same as the original cast members, and well, something is lost in translation. Something is also gained. I imagine though the dubbing is supposed to be a direct translation of the lines, something happens that makes it just a little, well...French. I can't quite describe what that means but I won't apologize for saying it. It's language, you know? The tone, the intonation, the voice in French that I imagine would go with different body language than what I see it dubbed with. More like dub over acting than simply voice dub. With the French language, I don't imagine it's easy to simply say something. There is always feeling. Always insinuation. It's French.

Has my French improved, moving in direct correlation with number of hours of television? Maybe. It's fun to imitate people on the different shows. This is imitation with expression, which is realistic. When I imitate 'Hugo' from my French in three months kit, well, it's correct, yes, but it's also v.e.r.y.m.o.n.o.t.o.n.o.u.s. I wonder if Hugo auditioned to host a cable show and was denied the role hence launching his career as a French audio book voice......

when bar food is a cheese plate life is good

Scrumptious cheese plate and other delicious tapas can be found at one of my favorite casual spots, La Boca. They have really nice staff, free wi-fi, and yummy tapas. What else do you want in a restaurant on the marina?

That pretty much says it. Oh, and an additional fact: Ricard is both a refreshing beverage as well as a breath mint. Genius.

Aug 11, 2009

Julia Roberts Filming 'Eat, Pray, Love' In NYC and India || Jaunted

Julia Roberts Filming 'Eat, Pray, Love' In NYC and India || Jaunted

I have to say that I am both excited and nervous about the making of the book 'Eat, Pray, Love'. I read the book during the aftershock of a ridiculous relationship having ended. I was sitting in a hammock with a cold beer at night in Bocas del Toro, Panama, and I was reading the part about how when you finish a relationship, you have all this crap in your mind about that person. The authors friend talked to the author about how she should push that stuff out of the way and make room for something new, or someone new, and pretty much buck up, get over it, be strong, and yes, clear that space in your mind occupied by that person. I cried. Yeah. I did. It's funny to think of it, but you know, sometimes something, no matter how ridiculous, just hits you - booooom - right in the gut.

These types of memories are great...when you're someplace else, when you have a moment in time that sticks with you - every little detail sticks with you from that one fraction of a minute..I remember the wind, the time of day - dusk, the location - the porch upstairs in the Spanish school I stayed at, what the dirt felt like between my feet and the wooden porch floor, the music coming through the air from the tiny packed church down the street that I walked by earlier, voices coming up from downstairs as the nightlife began, the green color of the plastic corrugated roof over the porch and the bright paint color on the wooden railing of the porch, the stripes of the hammock. How I felt that that particular paragraph was written for me specifically at that exact moment. Then I laughed my ass off at myself, and I'm not sure, but I probably scratched a mosquito bite.

Maybe when we travel to other places we have an opportunity to leave some 'stuff' there. I tell you, I left Bocas happy :-)

I've digressed a bit, but in fact the memory of that moment was created by the book. And now the book will become a movie. Imagination from a book usually trumps the experience you have laid out for you by a movie, but I'm definitely going to give this one a chance. It is Julia, after all, and it is a great book.

Aug 7, 2009

The daily routine celebrated as a huge victory... the new secret to success. ...or survival.


A top secret of successful expats! This key to success can be YOURS for JUST three payments of NINE NINETY NINE!.....but WAIT! There's MORE! What? Yes, MORE! We'll throw in a SECOND SET of life lessons FREE! ..when you buy now! Only ten minutes left to go folks so place your calls.

Yeah, yeah, they have those informercials here in Guadeloupe too. They're selling the same stuff as well: miraculous oxegynated cleaner that's as safe for your laundry and the planet as it is in your spicerack....
Making small victories big ones is free - as long as you don't count occasionally losing your pride and dignity as a large expense.

When I first arrived in Guadeloupe, I was a shell of my former 'I'm going to go walk around and meet some people' self. Now, in fairness this is partially due to the lay of the land. If you don't live close enough to the beach or the centre commercial to walk there, well, you don't. But also, I was afraid. Going out meant a lot of non-victories: language unknown, directions unknown, being unable to ask, not being able to communicate with the kids, nevermind command any respect as an adult, etc. These events can trigger anxiety in me remeniscent of my elementary school days when I had a teacher who would turn my desk upside down and shake out all the contents just so I would have to put them back.

Now, months into my expat life, I sometimes feel brave...

The Pirate was working so I took Big Little Monstre and Little Little Monstre in the car to the supermarket. The first question out of Little Little Monstre was about whether or not we had enough gas to get there, after the debacle of my having no euros to buy gas with when we tried to go to the beach the other day. Excellent - the kids are keeping track of my poor planning.

Once at the supermarket, things progressed well. I explained to les monstres that if - IF - they were nice while we were in the store that we could go for something to eat in the restaurant afterwards. Four big eyes and two heads nodded in fast agreement. Even without having kids 'of my own' I swiftly learned the art of negotiation, and it's place in every day life.

Les monstres and I travelled through the store, communicating with my broken French quite well, if I do say so myself, with only the occasional request for sugary items that warranted an immediate 'non' which was accepted without challenge. THIS is a victory, I have to say. The very fact that les monstres and I have an exchange - in French - where they ask, I answer, and they accept - wow. That's deserves a glass of wine right there. I'll take some red, thank you very much.

Exiting the store is always a point of slight panic for me. What if the check out lady asks me something I don't understand? What if someone in line asks me something I don't understand? What if I forgot my shopping bags? (In Guadeloupe, you bring your own reusable bags, or you buy them at checkout, a fantastically eco-friendly system) Actually I had already handled the latter issue on a previous visit, calling upon my limited French to ask for a bag to buy, and the checkout lady understood me and gave me a bag. (victory!) What if one of the petits monstres has a monstre meltdown during the checkout process?

Well, all of these things could happen. This time, though, it's something new:

"Something something something about a bag, and a code, for this thing here ...?" said the check out lady. In very fast French.
"Uh...je ne comprend pas....le probleme c'est quoi?"
I asked what the problem was, and then as my pulse rose and my face flushed I wondered why I invited more French when I already could not understand.

The entire line of customers was looking at us. The check out lady was looking at us. I understood that the soccer balls I picked up for les monstres did not have price tags on them, and I had no idea what she was asking me. Did she want me to go get a price tag? Did she think that I looked at the bar code and I could have recited it? Did she not see the look of an oncoming meltdown with the kids?
For the love of a good red wine, please, I silently begged, call for a price check and stop asking me anything. I don't have an answer, at least not in French, but you have other employees available to help you with the bar code. In French.
This moment was like an ad for anti-anxiety medication, you know, the kind with side effects that outweigh the benefits? I developed a fish-eyed view of the checkout line.

After saying to me in English, "You don't speak French?", to which I replied, in French, "Yes, I do, if you speak slowly I understand."

The checkout lady got on her store phone and laughed about me to a coworker. That much I understood. Lovely. Eventually they managed to get a price and we paid and we moved to the other counter to pick up a warranty for the blender I chose.....where I managed to have a small conversation en Francais with a complete stranger about how much the blender cost. Small talk in French: victory!

On the way home, les monstres and I had a talk about the restaurant, that the line was too long, and that we would go and see if The Pirate would like to join us at the restaurant, and to put away the food we just bought from the check out lady who talked about me in front of me.

Yeah, well, c'est la vie when you're learning I guess. So you see, the things I used to do so easily, like food shopping, have now become these moments of sink or swim. I'm happy to say that I do believe I am swimming much more than sinking, which feels good. Errands are still something that I don't always look forward to, like going to the post office, food shopping, and actually, though it's not an errand, answering our home phone. Ick.

So the little things become big things, big victories. It might sound sad, but in a situation like this, I'm okay with it. In fact, it's a neccesity for me to alter my measurement of success: quality, quantity, type, it's all different now. And it's nice actually. Allowing yourself small victories with huge celebration can be a good thing. Just don't start celebrating with a glass of wine and buying a new wardrobe each time you feel victorious, it could get messy.

Aug 5, 2009

How do you not take a kid in his Spider Man underwear seriously?


This one evening Big Little Monstre told the Pirate and me about his future plans. Big Little Monstre is almost seven years old and apparently his new Spider Man underwear gives him incredible thinking power as he has thought out the entire thing:

"I'm going to finish school fast because it's not that fun. Then I'm going to relax and choose what I want to do because I don't want a job that's that difficult."

The Pirate replied wide eyed, "Oh, well you should make sure you do well in school and then you can choose what job you want."

Big Little Monstre: "Oh, did you go to school?... Because it's not that fun...."
"Yes, for a long time", stated the Pirate solemnly.
"Oh, is that why you have such an easy job?"

The Pirate works with airplanes. He makes sure they get where they're going without crashing and killing everyone on board. Yep. So easy.

Le phoque and other fun words


Sometimes, my own childish-ness is alarming. Recently propped against fluffy hotel pillows, glass of wine in hand, Fraggle Rock on the tv for the kids, we recounted the days events in the outlandishly expensive sweatbox that is Sea World.
Suddenly I'm pulled out of my after-a-day-of-standing-in-line-in-the-sun zone by one of the kids swearing. In English.
Wait a minute. How do they know that word?
Now I'm in a panic. Has my potty mouth got away from me again? How angry will my the Pirate be with me for inadvertently teaching his children English swear words?
The word in question is 'the f word'. Fuck. Yep, it's a nasty one when heard repeated back to you by small children you then realize you mistakenly used it around.
What had happened? Was it when I stubbed my toe on the chair rushing up to answer the only phone call I've ever received in Guadeloupe? Was it when I packed the kids into the car with promises of the beach only to realize that there was a. no gas in the vehicle and b. I had no Euros? I couldn't be sure.

"Fuck?!" I looked inquisitively at the Pirate while realizing I had just repeated the offense.
"Le fuck," He halfway imitated me. I assumed he was trying to make fun of my attempt to frenchify words by simply applying a fancy French accent to English words. "Le phoque", he continued "is a seal. It means seal. P-H-O-Q-U-E, chica. Seal. Like we saw in Sea World."

aha.


Of course, this is only the beginning of fun words. I particularly like the French word for peanuts: les cacahouètes, pronounced like 'kaka-wet'
I'm sure I'll uncover more as I stumble through acquiring the French language, and I'll keep you posted.