Living in Guadeloupe, amazing things can happen even when it seems unlikely

The other day I watched an incredibly beautiful sunset over Guadeloupe, the island of slow moving everything. At times, something gives me pause and I feel my solar plexus relax and I take a deep breath and think that I really can get past the differences between here and home that test my patience and my morale. Like what? A few things:

The Pirate. He is extraordinarily patient. He makes me laugh my ass off, which helps tremendously. Laughter really is one of the best medicines.
Les Monstres. I'm attached.
The friends I have managed to make here.
Exercise, when I get to it.
New comments from strangers who are reading my blog. So cool! I know, dork alert but bear with me...

I have received a small handful of comments on my blog about living in Guadeloupe. The people leaving the comments are living here now and like me, they are from someplace else. They are learning French also, or at least speak English, although I can't speak to the level of French for all of them. The common denominator amongst us is the perception that living in Guadeloupe certainly presents some challenges.

Just the other day I was thinking that on some level I had lost the battle here in Guadeloupe. I was feeling that I had tried to befriend her, tried to work with her, and ultimately could not figure out how to exist with this strong, slow moving beast. I was feeling unequipped. Then I received the comment from Jack, a reader on the island who wrote almost exactly what I was thinking. Wow. Really? Someone who feels the same as me and doesn't just shrug their shoulders in quiet acceptance of things? Intriguing.
Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my seemingly typically American stress-outs about Guadeloupe. Suddenly, I'm feeling that perhaps together those of us who are baffled by some of the culture here can come together and find some inspiration, recall the great points of Guadeloupe in order to stay positive and create a more successful experience. We could exchange learned information in order to save time and energy. We could drink Budweiser and eat steak and clean our rifles....not exactly...but you get the idea.
So in combination with my attempt to look for inspiration rather than despair, I think I'll offer up a meeting with the folks who have contacted me specifically about life in Guadeloupe. No, like an actual in person meeting - old school - I know, CRAZY but it could be cool. It could be awful, who knows. All I know is I'm legitimately trying to focus on the good. I'm trying to remain calm, to find the zen spot more often than not. I believe that I can find the balance point. I believe that I can adjust. Some. I still stand by my beliefs in some spots though: I still believe it should not, in 2010, take three months to transfer internet service from one freaking house to another. Not. Budging. On. That.

Bisous!
...see? leaving on a positive note already! Good, right?!

'not really'... really?

With a recent trip to France mainland I found that talking to people in French is getting a bit easier. I've decided - possibly for the sake of sanity - that the stuff I don't understand is probably best not understood. You cut out a lot of crap, actually, when you don't entirely understand or speak a language. Things are right to the point, since you don't really have much more than what you need...not much small talk or embellishment available in the ol' repertoire.

What leaves me speechless, in addition to actually not having the words, are the things people say sometimes. 'Not Really' seems to be a common theme in people's perception of my life. Let me give some examples...

I've spoken to many people about the subject of adoption. This conversation begins in many different ways. It can start with where I've lived - San Francisco, and move from there to the gay community and how people feel about gay rights, including adopting children. Discussion around this may go on for a while before I say that I was adopted, at which point, inevitably, I get the same response, perhaps varying a bit from person to person: "Oh, sorry, I didn't know...well, I mean, you know what I mean, because they're not really your parents" and "Oh...well yeah, then you know what I mean, it's like, you're not really Jewish".
Yeah.
Here, I tend to try to make small talk with people around things I can easily talk about in French. So, family is easy. I'm a step mother. Voila. "Uh-huh", they say, "And so now you want to have one of your own, right?", or "Ah...yes, I see, and so you'll really understand how beautiful it is when the child is yours, because it's (normally they take a look around and lower their voice) it's ...different...when they're not really yours".
Yeah. Who are they looking around for, I wonder, someone not to offend? Intriguing.
It's presumptuous, at best, to say these things, especially when preceded by 'you know what I mean'. Actually, no, I don't. But I can infer. I can infer that you are lacking a certain amount of sensitivity or openness that I am happy to possess.

So, it kind of piled up in my head the other day, all this 'not really' business. If I were less happy with the family I have (all of it, my folks, extended, ma petite famille Guadeloupean, my friends) well then I might get really bogged down by the thoughts that 'not really' comments create. Actually I just find it really intriguing to be honest.
I mean, look at it this way, what if I believed what so many people said...what would be my place in the world? If I were...
Not really my parents daughter.
Not really Jewish.
Not really connected to the two little boys in my life, les monstres?

Where would I be then? Floating in not really land? Not connected to anything or anyone by strong ties that bind? Relatively identity-less? Pffff
Good thing I can look at it differently, eh? I'm a free agent. It's not the questioners or the clear-cut mold needers who decide who I belong with or to. Mais non, c'est moi.

In fact, I feel a bit sad for people who can't see past the connection of blood when it comes to deep love or spirituality, I really do. it's just, I wonder if they're happy that way, or not really.

Madamoiselle, Madame, Miss, Ma'am

I worry in my sleep. I have little or no recollection of such worry each morning, but I'm sure of it for a few irrefutable reasons:

1. I grew up with a worrier as a mother.
2. I see the worry line between my eyes is markedly deeper each morning upon waking than it was the night before when I washed my face before bed.
Alas, perhaps my skin, in the middle of my 30's, has changed a bit. Perhaps I appear older than I did in my roaring 20's. Perhaps. The thing with getting older is that you - if you're lucky - do indeed get wiser, yet at the same time, you don't want anyone actually acknowledging the fact that you are older, only that you are wiser....than them, that is..wiser than they are.

In my 20's, if someone, say, in a retail shop, 'ma'am'ed me, I was irritated. Why? Because I worked in retail throughout high school and knew full well that when you 'ma'am'ed someone, the translation was: "You're an annoying customer and you're older than me and you always will be no matter how many fancy-below-Neiman's-price handbags you buy, lady".
And yet somehow, I survived the first instances of 'ma'am'. In my 30's, I'd like to think that I'm a bit less crazy, a bit more relaxed. And yet, when I see The Pirate coiling up into a protective stop-drop-and-roll pose in my times of worry, I think: maybe not.

The other day I was 'ma'am'ed. In French. So it's 'madame'. Sure, it sounds fancy and all, but to me it was clearly a signal of the man recognizing my age, especially since nanoseconds before he had adressed my friend, standing right next to me, as 'mademoiselle'. Seriously?
Now, like any normal worrier, I openly showed my contempt to anyone who within earshot. Classy, right? I was met with a lot of laughter at my level of disdain for 'madame'. I was told by French friends that is a showing of respect, or simply an assumption of ones marital status. I was told my American friends (male) that it's like 'ma'am', and that 'ma'am' holds the same meaning, and has more to do with status than age. I was told by friends both American and French - and female - that they agreed with me entirely and don't like when that happens.

What's the lesson here? Well, I checked dictionary.com for some objective explanation. Admitedly, I only found one definition referring to age:
1.a French title of respect equivalent to “Mrs.”, used alone or prefixed to a woman's married name or title: Madame Curie.
2.(in English) a title of respect used in speaking to or of an older woman, esp. one of distinction, who is not of American or British origin. Abbreviation: Mme.

Okay. So perhaps I stand corrected on this one, a little. What remains true is that most women, in my experience, really dislike being called m'am or madame, because for us as women, it symbolizes age. So there. We don't like it. Then again, what do I want to be called? Miss? Dudette? As I finish writing this I realize that actually, I don't care. Ma'am me if you wish, I'm over it.

want that shirt? go here.

Dating in another language, or, how to not be funny.

Sometimes I think I'm funny. You know, in my own head. Often I make the mistake of saying my funny thoughts out loud and they are met by blank stares. The Pirate thinks I am very funny. Laughing at me and laughing with me are two different things, but I don't want to split hairs.

I've been butchering learning French for eight months and still can't crack a joke or successfully use sarcasm. I don't pick up on it when it's coming my way either. It's kind of a drag, but then again, maybe people just aren't funny here. I don't know, I mean, living in Guadeloupe requires a certain level of humor just to not strangle someone every time the internet goes out. (read: a few times a day.)

The Pirate is a clever little bugger. He speaks four languages fluently. Ain't that a bitch when you're in Puerto Rico together and this sexy little thing comes up and they can just Espanol away, while I stand there hoping they're not planning their getaway right under my inferior bilingual nose. He wouldn't do that though, because clearly, I rock. I mean, I have a blog.
So, since The Pirate speaks English better than many native speakers I know, I talk at a pretty fast clip with him, at my normal pace. Now, I hail from the northeastern US, so really it's pretty fast. We joke around a lot. But from time to time, I crack a great joke that just ....passes him in both lanes. Whooosh! Not because he doesn't get it, but because I spoke too fast while not looking at him, or while my mouth was full of food, the latter being more likely. So it will go something like this:

Moi:"(insert incredibly clever thing to say here, based on context)"
Pirate:"What?"
Moi:"(repeat incredibly clever thing a bit louder)"
Pirate:"Whu...wait...because he did that then it's a what...?"
Moi:"(Insert half of incredibly clever thing, slower, with half the enthusiasm, and half smile. I'm not laughing anymore)"
Pirate:"Ohhhh..wait...what was the last part again?"
Moi:"(Incredibly clever thing. Slowly. No smile. I feel stupid now because I've been forced to repeat my clever thing so many times that now it doesn't appear so clever. I swear I hear that music that plays on tv when jokes fail: wuh wuh wuh wuuuuuhhhhh)"
Pirate: laughs....explains that he understands, only, he has mistaken some word or reference for something else entirely, but somehow it's still funny for him.
Me:"GAWD! Forget it!!"

Talk about lost in translation! Not to mention what a total witch I am! When this happens in reverse, I must confess that The Pirate somehow STILL makes me laugh even though I'm not getting the joke. He's so clever.

Holy not the same battle cry, Batman

A shameless repost of one of my favorite things. Couldn't help myself. Thanks, Family Guy for hours of entertainment for me and The Pirate. With love from Guadeloupe.

I remember when I used to read the comics in the newspaper when I was young. You know how there are certain words used to display certain actions, like 'kapow!' for a punch, or 'blam!' for an explosion? The thing is, I've realized that action words like these are not universal. Who knew? Outside of the comic strips, there are action words that people use in descriptive conversation. For example, I might say: "We just put the boards in the car, and bang we're ready to go surf". But The Pirate would say: "We just put the boards in the car, crack crack (with a French accent rrrrrr) and we're ready to go surf."

Crack, crack? What the heck is that? There are many more. It makes me laugh to hear them because I'm then forced to really listen to my own choice expressions and in the end they're all just noises.

So there's the comic strip sound words, the daily expression action words, and then there are the animal-imitated-by-human sounds. For example, we in the states all know that cows say 'moooooo', right? Right. And roosters crow like this: 'cock-a-doodle-dooooo!' And sheep say 'baaaaaaaa' and elephants...well, I'm not too sure on that one actually.
The French seem to disagree. Apparently, and I've verified this with childrens' books, the official source of animal-imitated-by-human sounds, French roosters, aka les coques, say, 'Coo-co-ri-cooooo!'

No. No they do not. But perhaps since they are speaking French, well, how can I argue with the sounds of the French language? They make so much sense after all. (read:not pronouncing entire syllables of words does NOT sense make, grasshopper)

I am so happy that somebody somewhere found the following clip from Family Guy (hellooo LOVE that show) amusing enough to post it on YouTube, because I can't yet figure out how to do that on my own. This is Stewie, playing with a classic 70's toy, See and Say. In case you are not familiar with See and Say, I'll explain:

I learned all of my animal-imitated-by-human sounds from See and Say. It's a big round disk with animal pictures on it. You pull a string on the side, and the device randomly chooses an animal, and then samples the sound for you. Something like:

''Cow, the cow says moooooooooooo''. (and it DID say moo because it was an American cow, I now realize. Had I been gifted a European See and Say, I would have been mocked on the playground, surely scarring me for life)

New site to love

This site is fantastic. I can just look up a verb and it lists all conjugations for me, just like that. Très cool! It's been added to my list of 'learning French' sites to the right. The site is called verb2verbe, and as a student of French, I think it's pretty sweet.

I just saw that I can also have this handy gadget on my iphone. Ya gotta love it!

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.