The precise origins of the French expression, être en bisbille avec quelqu’un, are mysterious. The word ‘bisbille’ apparently comes from the Italian ‘bisbiglio’ meaning to murmur or whisper. How the meaning evolved in French to mean a quarrel or difference with someone is unclear. And yet it speaks volumes: whispering behind someone’s back is exactly the kind of behaviour that starts such disputes.
What is clear to me is that this ability to pick a fight and turn petty differences into a life-long feud has strong Latin roots. I have observed such behaviour in particular in my Italian and Portuguese friends and in every set of French neighbours.
I’ve posted before about how the French are so good at ignoring those they dislike. They either literally can’t ‘see’ each other (On ne peut plus se voir) or they sulk when they do (Faire la gueule).
I love the above painting, ‘Bisbille en Terrasse’ by French artist Catherine Haro, as it perfectly captures the mood of disgruntled people on a café terrace who seem to be at odds with all of those around them.
As for me, I’ve gotten better at not picking fights and am successfully avoiding conflict with others at the moment.
Masculine or feminine? Figuring out which
gender is assigned to which thing is a subject of continual head scratching for
the non-native speaker of French.
In this age of gender fluidity and non-binary
assumptions, in order to speak French properly it is still essential to ask the
increasingly loaded question: is it male or female?
I’ve posted before about gender benders and the impossibility of applying logic or rules to correctly guess whether something is a ‘le’ or a ‘la’.
The thing to remember is that in spoken French, it’s not all that important. Oui, your French native will raise an eyebrow when you say ‘le clé’ (key is feminine) or ‘la poil’ (hair is masculine), but in reality, it hardly matters. The important thing in learning to speak a language is plunging ahead, mistakes be damned. And the only way to learn the gender rules for French words is by rote, regular practice and occasionally getting it wrong.
In written French, however, it is always worth checking. And how much easier is that task in the age of the internet! A quick search reveals the correct spelling and genre of any given word, although the grammar rules are sometimes rather more complex, with certain words varying in gender according to the use. The challenge is that sometimes we forget to check or can’t be bothered or are convinced (like me) that we are right.
There is an expression in French that sums this up perfectly: les paroles s’envolent, les écrits restent. This means that while spoken words fly away, anything in writing, even as ephemeral as the online world, remains. In other words, you can get away with almost any oral mistake but once it is written in black and white, it is harder to ignore.
Thanks to FranceTaste for inspiring this post in a recent comment, and to Phildange for keeping us honest!
I feel too lazy to post today but thankfully I found a French expression that perfectly sums up my mood: j’ai la flemme.
Seems it’s a common enough condition that there’s a song about it. The tune is almost catchy enough to get my foot tapping into a beat that could even lead me to get up and get going. Almost, but not quite. It’s Sunday after all, and we all deserve a day of rest.
Trying to grasp the origin of this rather intriguing expression has perked up my brain a bit. ‘Avoir la flemme’ comes from the Latin word ‘phlegma’ or flegme in French.
However, what feeling lazy has to do with phlegm, as in mucous, or the quality of being phlegmatic, as the British are known to do while keeping calm and carrying on, has me somewhat perplexed.
I’d like to go further in my exploration of this fascinating topic but la flemme is winning out. Ideas, anyone?
Here you go with another colourful French expression to end the week on a humorous note. ‘Avoir un cheveu sur la langue’, literally a hair on one’s tongue, is a way of saying that someone has a speech impediment, specifically a lisp.
I’m not sure there is any ‘nice’ way of saying this but the expression creates an image that is immediately understood. If you have a hair on your tongue, it is understandably hard to articulate certain sounds. The proper term for a lisp, which I have just learned, is ‘zozoter’.
By the way, my French bulldog Humphrey shown above does not lisp but he certainly has a healthy tongue with a lot of hair around it. C’est une image!
There are quite a few French expressions involving the word ‘langue’ or tongue. ‘Ne pas avoir sa langue dans sa poche’ is one of my favourites. I’m not known for keeping my tongue in my pocket either.
Well, it’s Friday so I’m going to keep this short and suite. 😜 Feel free to share your favourite colourful expressions in French or any other language!
Once you’ve more or less mastered the basics of French conjugation and picked up enough vocabulary to find your way around a conversation, you may think you’ve got it all figured out. That’s when you discover one of the mysteries of spoken French: acronyms and abbreviations for all kinds of words and phrases.
The French may be forgiven for being so enamoured of the short form. Let’s face it, between killer traffic jams, snail-like administrative procedures and the endless verbiage needed to say even the simplest things, you need to save time where you can.
As usual, I stumbled my way through various bloopers and blunders before fully understanding how to use these short forms.
My late Belle-mère was impressed when early on I took a liberal approach to mastering such terms. The baccalaureate exam is called le bac, la climatisation becomes la clim’ and the expression ‘à tout à l’heure’ (see you later), becomes simply ‘à tout!’. I decided if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
“Ce n’est pas oblig!” I declared one day, when she suggested I should do something or other.
“Quoi?” asked that lady in astonishment, before cracking up. I learned that for all the French love short forms, it is obligatory (and not ‘oblig’) to wait for someone else to invent them first.
So it is that you must simply learn, case
by case, what things are called in spoken French.
That fine institution of French life, la Sécurité
Sociale, is called la Sécu, but the organization that you must deal with for
financial reasons is called la CPAM (letters spelled out, for Caisse Primaire d’Assurance
Maladie). That the special address form CEDEX (pronounced ‘say-dex’) stands for
‘Courrier d’entreprise à distribution exceptionnelle’. That the cute-sounding ‘DOM-TOM’
is code for all those overseas French territories like Guadeloupe.
Needless to say, there is no obvious logic
to explain why some acronyms are spelled out letter by letter and others spoken
like a word.
Every area of French life has its own set
of acronyms and abbreviations. I believe that the high-minded public servants
who graduate from the French National School of Administration or l’ENA (pronounced:
Lay-na) take entire courses on how to make up complicated names that will create
unpronounceable acronyms. Case in point: La loi Hadopi (Haute Autorité pour la
diffusion des œuvres et la protection des droits sur internet), an entire administration
created to protect the rights of works and people online. What a mouthful! Much
easier to talk about les GAFA (Google, Apple, Facebook and Amazon), pronounced ‘gaffa’.