I never learned Latin. The dead languages were considered passé in the public education system when I was growing up in the 60s and 70s. Latin was relegated to religious study. I often regret this lack. It would have been helpful to understand the root meanings of many French words.
I’ve only just discovered that in French the combination of ‘o’ and ‘e’ as œ is called ‘e dans l’o’. The funny thing is that when spoken this way it sounds like ‘oeufs dans l’eau’ (eggs in water). It’s an easy mnemonic and a fun way of describing this feisty little coupling of vowels in French.
In these times of confinement, of being stuck together, I am oddly moved by the poetry of this union. ‘Cœur’ offers the perfect example; o is joined to e just as hearts are joined in love. Old friends and lovers, siblings and kindred spirits who know each other intimately even after years of absence. This is the beauty of e dans l’o.
And there are so many other words with œ that represent the coming together of efforts or things: œuvre, a work of art or body of work; chœur, a choir; vœu, a wish; nœud, a knot.
I saw an œuvre last week that stirred my cœur as such things rarely do. A beautiful, original, heart-stopping film that filled me with sorrow and joy, while reminding me that what we are going through right now is nothing. Nothing at all.
It was a real discovery, having never seen any of the director/writer/actor’s work. Now I look forward to watching more. Taika Waititi has a unique talent for blending the dramatic with the comic. Just exactly my cup of tea.
Perhaps isolation gives us a different point of view on things we take for granted. Little things. A beautiful day. A cup of tea. A call from a friend.
Œ is a small thing. Yet even tiny things can achieve a great deal. Like a virus wreaking havoc on the world as we know it. This tiny combination of cells is behind the pandemic that is bringing our economy to a halt, ripping lives apart, making a mockery of politics.
But it works both ways. By joining together in our efforts, by caring for one another, perhaps we can each make a difference. However small.
Apologies, dear followers, but it seems that I have nothing in particular to say this week.
Rien. Nada. Niet.
‘Niet’, by the way, while Russian in origin, is frequently used in French to say ‘no way’.
But having ‘rien à dire’ (nothing to say) shall not stop this brave writer from spewing forth a few wise words. Far be it from me to allow writer’s block to deprive you of your weekly dose of — what, exactly? I used to see this blog as a way of a) avenging myself against the slings and arrows of being foreign in France, and b) explaining this great and wonderful land to the ROW (rest of world), and finally c) discovering along the way that I had become, uh, one of them.
Now I find myself struggling with my focus. France, the French people and the French language itself continue to provide a rich and seemingly bottomless source of inspiration for observations which I hope are original, informative and occasionally funny. But lately my heart is not quite in it.
Note that the expression ‘rien à dire’ is, oddly, often used as a compliment. Meaning: There is nothing to criticize here. Ah, if only. My head is filled with complaints and critiques, but I am trying not to listen to them. To focus on the positive. But I don’t want to turn this blog into a travelogue, which others do very well, or an ode to ‘la vie en rose’. Which my life in France is most decidedly not.
There are bigger topics here in France right now that I could blog about. But the ones that seem worthy of a post require more time and energy than I have to give at the moment. And the ones that inspire my muse make me feel like I’m repeating myself.
In the past, when the world made a tiny bit more sense than it does now, I would take refuge in silence. Wait until the muse moved me with words worth sharing. But in this day of social media savvy, of regular posting and fighting for screen time, I am inspired to write about the fact that I have nothing to say.
So forgive me, please. Mea culpa. Pardon my French, or lack thereof. It’s probably just a blip, a minor dysfunction of my normally wagging tongue.
I will hunker down and hibernate for a while and return soon with renewed vim and vigour.
In the meantime, if you are inspired to say anything, feel free!
We are seriously ‘perturbés’ in France today. This may not be breaking news for anyone who follows French news. But beyond the disruptions of the massive strike action kicking off today around the country, I fear we are perturbed in a way that is closer to the English meaning of the word.
My diagnosis, dear France, is that we are suffering from generalized anxiety disorder.
Web MD describes those who suffer from GAD as people who “always expect disaster and can’t stop worrying about health, money, family, work, or school. In people with GAD, the worry is often unrealistic or out of proportion with the situation. Daily life becomes a constant state of worry, fear, and dread. Eventually, the anxiety so dominates the person’s thinking that it interferes with daily functioning…”
Depression may also be a symptom. Emmanuel Macron, speaking to students in Amiens, said that the French are too negative, too hard on themselves. Compared to other countries, we don’t have it so bad. He is not wrong, but he misses the point: the French don’t care about what’s going on elsewhere. They want things to be as they were right here in France, twenty, even fifty years ago. This is one reason why our president, as much as I personally think he’s a good leader, has such a high disapproval rating at home.
Today marks the beginning of a general strike in France. From teachers to transport workers, everybody and his uncle is unhappy about the pension reform that Macron is trying to push through. Basically, it is a simplification of the current, extremely complex system where each sector has its own plan, with dozens of schemes offering different terms and conditions for retirement, to a universal points-based pension plan for all. The last time a government tried to mess with pensions was in 1995, when the general strike made such a ‘pagaille‘ of things that Jacques Chirac and and Alain Juppé were forced to withdraw the controversial measures. So today’s strike, which has been talked about for months, must have the current government quaking in its boots.
What this means for regular people is a very big mess. Beyond the inconvenience, there is more fear and anxiety. Our GAD is getting worse.
People who don’t absolutely have to travel have been asked to stay home, employees who can are being allowed to work from home, and everybody else is muddling through. Because while they can cancel trains and flights, postpone meetings and otherwise organize different events, the frail and elderly still need caring for, hospitals are filled with patients and people need to eat.
If the disease were acute rather than chronic, you might hope for the fever to pass and the patient to get better. In this case, I fear the only cure may be a revolution. Here’s hoping we can make it to the end of the year without it coming to that!
‘Bon courage’ to all those who are affected. Best of luck and please share your war stories!
If you spend any time in
France, chances are you will find that many French people think the same way on
certain subjects. As usual, I beg to differ.
Here in France, like most parts of the world, certain ‘received ideas’ tend to be taken as common sense. This goes beyond commonly held beliefs about history and science — that Molière died on stage while playing in ‘Le Malade Imaginaire’ (in fact he died at home in his own bed after a performance) or the one about catching cold from the cold (so deeply anchored in the French psyche that no scientific proof to the contrary will be taken seriously) — to a way of seeing the world that is uniquely French.
I was surprised to find an English Wikipedia listing for the French expression idées recues. It seems to have been immortalized from the satirical dictionary of such notions written in the last century by Gustave Flaubert. Here is his original list: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dictionary_of_Received_Ideas
It will come as no surprise to readers of this blog that I resist ‘group think’. I was born a contrarian and will probably go out arguing with the doctors and nurses (yep, it’s still morbid November, folks; see my last post).
Here are some commonly held beliefs that are, in my entirely un-humble opinion, a load of old…(insert preferred word):
The French are undisciplined
This one has it that, due
to some innate quality of nature itself, the French are resistant to things
like lineups, rules of the road or common acts of civility like picking up
trash. This national trait makes them, as a country, essentially ungovernable. While
this is often the case, it has more to do with history and culture than something
in their DNA.
Air conditioning is unhealthy
Just like you catch a cold
from the cold, the fact of living and working in an air-conditioned space can
make you physically ill. While it is true that air conditioning is poorly understood
and badly integrated into French spaces and thus, you may get a crick in your
neck from sitting next to the single vent delivering cold air into a room, the
science and technology of cooling allows millions of people around the world to
function far more optimally than they would in sweltering heat.
‘Bio’ is nothing more than big business
The average French consumer does not trust organic food. This widely held belief, recently expressed to me at a local fruit and veg store when I dared to ask when they planned to introduce ‘bio’ produce, has it that there is so much chemical contamination in the soil, air and water anyway, that any effort to grow organic food is a waste of time. In fact, this one borders the conspiracy theory in suggesting that it is all a scheme to make people pay more. Several shoppers in the line-up nodded in agreement. I left in frustration, unable to find words in the face of such confirmation bias.
The government is corrupt and in bed with big business
It doesn’t really matter which political party has the majority. Any elected official has his or her own agenda and it generally serves the rich rather than the common man. From there it is a small leap to assume that all governments are corrupt, that there are billions hidden in their coffers while we, the working people, are literally taxed to death. While there may be some truth in this, to think that virtually no one in public life sincerely wants to improve conditions for the people who elected them goes against my nature. Call me naïve. Many have. I can’t help but believe that there are good people in government (and business for that matter).
Sandwiches make you fat/are unhealthy
The idea of eating a sandwich
instead of sitting down for a hot meal is extremely unpalatable to the French. I’ve
heard colleagues complain that they are not well for the simple reason that they
have been forced to eat a sandwich at lunchtime. Not because they ate it at
their desk, or were too busy to take a break, but by the nature of the food
itself. It seems to me that not all sandwiches are the same; there are good
ones and bad ones. Personally I find it healthier eat a freshly made sandwich with
good quality ingredients than a piece of meat floating in a salty sauce.
It is dangerous to drive below the speed limit
While this may be true in fact, I take exception to the idea that is has to be this way, at least outside of motorways. The idea of slowing down at all is abhorrent to most French drivers, even for cyclists or pedestrians. The speed limit on secondary roads in France was lowered to 80 km last year but following the uproar of the ‘gilets jaunes’ movement the government caved and decided to let the departments decide for themselves. The majority have put it back to 90 km, despite the fact that the measure seems to have led to a reduction in deaths from road accidents.
The list goes on but I’ll stop there. The fact is that there is a grain of truth in most idées reçues but that doesn’t make them laws of nature.
It was the recurring refrain when my kids
were growing up.
“Deux secondes,” my son would say
whenever I asked him to do something.
“Deux secondes!” my daughter would call from her room when we were running late for school.
“Je suis à vous dans deux petites secondes,” says the woman at bakery, placing baguettes on the shelf. (Be with you in two seconds.) Two small seconds obviously being much quicker than normal ones.
I’ve never understood why the French require two seconds when all we ever needed was one. “Just a sec!” I used to yell when my mother would call me. But around here two seconds is the norm. Sometimes it’s two minutes (deux minutes!) or even two hours (ne prend pas deux heures!) but whatever the unit of time, two are always required. I guess everything with the French just takes longer.
It is said that patience is a virtue. Unfortunately it is not one with which I am familiar. Two seconds or minutes or hours are too long for me when I want to get somewhere or do something. It goes against my nature to spend any longer doing anything than is absolutely necessary. This philosophy is entirely incompatible with running a business, raising a family or living in France.
So finally, after much reflection, I’ve decided
to cultivate the art of patience. Because it seems that patience, like other
qualities, is not something that you have to be born with to enjoy.
And I’m starting small.
Two seconds isn’t a lot of time but if you’re mindful, you can make them work for you. In fact, they can be life changing. It’s enough or run a stop sign or get hit by a car. Long enough for your heart to beat a few times, to make up your mind, to have a stroke of good luck. Two seconds was all it took for me to catch a certain Frenchman’s glance across a crowded bar a very long time ago.
So I’m using ‘deux secondes’ as my mantra. Every time I’m about to tell myself — or the dog, or the driver in front of me — to hurry up, I stop and say the magic words: deux secondes. And for that tiny bit of time, I breathe, focus my eyes on something, relax.
I don’t know if the two-second rule will
ultimately stop me from stamping my foot or swearing to myself for very long. I
may not make it to two minutes, never mind two hours. But so far I’m amazed at
what two seconds can do. Even if I can’t be patient for long, I can enjoy two
seconds where things slow down. And then somehow, my sense of urgency