A re-blog of another blog. Because it's relevant. Although my French is (according to some friends) much better than it was a few months ago, I still don't really pick up on conversations going on around me if I'm not trying to participate. What I'm saying is, I don't overhear things. I tune it out. It's too much work. Do I tune it out conversations going on around me at the mall back home? Probably. That being said, I could overhear with greater ease something being said in English.
Since I'm not snooping on my neighbors conversations, I choose to spend my waiting time - have I mentioned that there is A LOT of that here - looking at stuff on my iphone. In the doctors office, at the post office, the bank, the supermarket, the school parking lot, in traffic, walking in the mall, at the restaurant. With the Pirate. Sad but true folks. Much like the writer in my re-blog, I have used the excuse that my iphone keeps me in touch. With who? With my family and friends back home. It provides an opportunity to communicate with ease, to understand jokes, to make snarky comments on peoples facebook posts. Ahhh, the simple things in life.
But what of real conversation? I miss it. I know as I post and read completely gratuitous things that I'm not truly participating in a conversation. I know that with every hour spent looking at a screen I am keeping myself from practicing French, and from meeting people where I am RIGHT NOW.
And you know what? I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I'm not ready. Perhaps I have not hit my rock bottom and I'm happy dwelling in my semi-reality; iphone in hand, laptop within reach, English language jokes a plenty to keep me laughing. Ahhh. Yes. No celebrity rehab for internet over-users here. Not yet. Hey....what's that? Is that a new app? Where ya goin'?
Tweetage Wasteland : Say Hello to My Little Friend
Jun 5, 2010
Why do the French call it that?! Confusion with candy and movies
I credit my love for candy to my father. He always had -and still does - a healthy stash of candy somewhere in the house. Since I know my mom reads these things, I won't disclose said location, although I wish I could because it's super funny. He's like Stan Smith with that candy: top governmental secret that nobody cares about except my mom. When I lived on the west coast, my father would use this crazy thing called the post office to mail me a roll of Necco Wafers just to let me know he loved me. Cute huh? What's even cuter is how here in Guadeloupe they have 'post offices' yet I've unveiled the fact that such locations are only fronts for people who need a place to hang out and say things like, "this line is closed", or "that's not possible". Hey, everybody needs a place to be.
All
[[
1. Off the shelf chocolate bars such as KitKat are better in Europe. Why? The chocolate. It's different. It. Just. Is.
2. Treats from your childhood were awesome. Really they were. But they're kind of like old high school friendships - when you try them again years later, more often than not it's a case of some things are better left in the past. Those dried up little pellets sold in cheap sandwich bags that you looked forward to so much as a kid? Skip 'em. Trust me. They suck now, and your friends won't invite you to fancy parties anymore if you tout them as excellent.
3. If the same candy that exists in Boston, USA exists in Guadeloupe, FWI, it surely does not have the same name. As they do with movies, the French love to give things that already exist with perfectly good names new names.
Cotton candy would be a good example. it looks like cotton. In French, this is even almost exactly the same word: coton. And it's candy. So we call it cotton candy. Easy.
It's called Barbe a Papa here. Yeah, like the cartoon Barba Papa, except the literal translation is papa's beard. Now, normally I will admit to getting hysterically agitated over the changing of movie names because they don't make any sense at all. But this renaming of a treat I happen to like...Barba Papa. It works. Nice one, France!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)