Immediate reactions from Paris

Michèle nous envoie ses réactions aux attaques contre sa ville.

Susan, c’est une bonne idée de faire le relais au dessus de l’Atlantique.

Il y a eu, pour moi et pour beaucoup d’entre nous, une nuit entière passée à regarder les nouvelles à la télévision sans arriver à s’en détacher, car le sommeil ne pouvait venir.
Le samedi nous étions encore hébétés, le dimanche, malgré les recommandations officielles, pour la plupart nous sommes sortis : comme bien d’autres, j’ai retrouvé des amis  et nous nous sommes dirigés vers la Place de la République pour y déposer une bougie ou des fleurs. J’ai aimé la grande banderole  portant la devise de Lutèce /Paris  -“FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR”  – dont beaucoup ignoraient le sens* (et pas seulement les étrangers!) mais qui était adoptée dès que comprise.

Il y avait une belle atmosphère ce jour là à la République. Chacun parlait aux autres avec confiance. Mais pas d’illusion, la tristesse s’exprimait parfois avec des larmes, la peur était présente, d’où d’ailleurs vers 19h heures un mouvement de panique, dû à une fausse alerte.

Et ceux qui écrivaient comme slogan “Même pas peur” m’ont semblé bien présomptueux ou bien ignorants de ce qu’est vraiment un pays en proie au terrorisme. J’ai le sentiment que le pire risque de se répéter et de nous enténébrer…

En attendant, répétons, avec un sourire, “Fluctuat nec Mergitur”!

  • “Tossed by the waves but not sunk.”
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My Paris friends react to the horror

My friends in Paris have all been touched by the horror in their city. Here are some of their reactions the day after the attacks:
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Merci infiniment, Susan. Tes pensées font du bien. C’est l’horreur absolue, nous étions dehors hier soir loin de ce carnage. Quand nous avons su que des attentats étaient en cours, là où habitent (leurs enfants) M. et F., je les ai appelés. Ils étaient dans le métro et rentraient chez eux après un concert, et hier ils n’étaient pas au Bataclan, le Bataclan à cinq minutes de chez eux. Comme je les avais prévenus, ils ne se sont pas attardés et sont rentrés vite, car sans le savoir ils étaient au cœur des attaques. M., terriblement choquée, m’a appelée pour me dire qu’il y avait des morts dans les rues près de chez eux, que des amis à eux étaient réfugiés dans des caves de café, tout son quartier bloqué et transformé en scène de guerre. Je pense à toutes les victimes sorties se détendre, prendre un verre, s’amuser dans ces quartiers très à la mode, “bobos ” comme on les appelle et devenus en quelques heures le champ de guerre sous la furie aveugle de fous incontrôlables.
Ce matin, c’est la torpeur au réveil d’un monstrueux cauchemar et tu es là avec tes mots.
G

***
Ça va mais J et ses amis étaient dans un café à proximité et ont pu voir l’horreur. Ils se sont cachés en attendant l’arrivée des flics.
Ce monde est fou et tout cela va encore faire monter l’extrême droite.
Bises tristes,
MM

***
We’re Ok. I had 20 family members at home for a birthday party last night. Some had to sleep over because their quartier était bouclé. Shock and anger.
J

***
Tout va bien pour moi – si l’on peut dire car évidemment la tristesse et l’horreur sont grandes. Je n’ai pas dormi cette nuit, accrochée aux nouvelles de la télévision, très répétitives mais dont il est difficile de s’arracher. C’est une drogue contre l’angoisse.
On va voir quel est l’avenir, mais l’optimisme ne règne pas!!
M

***
(the next day, again from G)
Le lendemain,on est hébétés, hagards, seules les médias te font comprendre que ce n’est pas une saleté de rêve mais la réalité et que ce qui s’est passé c’est réellement passé. Paris est vide, je suis allée faire quelques courses, pas de marché. L’atmosphère est pesante et en même temps flottante comme si on attendait encore un drame. Le traumatisme est immense, j’imagine les lendemains du 11septembre.
G

***
Question attentat personne n’est directement touché dans la famille et autour de moi. Seulement une grande peine au coeur et une grande tristesse
qui nous accable tous.
V

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C’est une horreur!

It took 30 minutes for 7 terrorists to change life in Paris.  We felt it around the world, as the blue, white and red lights on our buildings and monuments showed. And many of us know it could hit us at any time.

The danger in France is not quite the same as here, though. There, tension is sharper between the camps. Anger accompanies the fear. Perhaps that’s the definition of horreur? One French journalist I heard today even pronounced the words “civil war” as the danger. “L’espoir des terroristes, c’est évidemment que ça prenne une ampleur plus grande dans le territoire et qu’on monte les Français les uns contre les autres avec un clivage religieux confessionnel.
As President Hollande declared the night of the attacks: “C’est une horreur.”
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Beautiful or untranslate-able words

Our friend, Stéphanie, thought of our blog when she saw this article on French words that resonate with learners. I see why! Her favorite is ‘ronronner,’ which is very onomatopoetic. You can just hear the cat purring. Still, I would not have picked these words as favorites. A former colleague thinks the word ‘papillon’ (butterfly) is beautiful. I can’t think of one I think of as more beautiful than others, just like I can’t find one in English, but I do often stumble across French words that English doesn’t have AND vice versa.

Two words French has that English doesn’t: ‘le lendemain’ (the next morning) and ‘même’ (very, in the sense of ‘that very day’). We can’t translate either of those words with one sole English word.

Two that English has that can’t be translated satisfactorily: “privacy” and “relationship.” I find ‘intimité’ and ‘rapport’ unsatisfactory translations!

As for the article Stéphanie sent us, le voilà:

http://www.babbel.com/en/magazine/favorite-french-words?slc=engmag-a51-info-favoritefrenchwords-fb&utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=cd_engall_gen_cx1_favoritefrenchwords

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Is French culture gone?

This attack on the French intelligentsia seems reasonable and intelligent but some points could use evidence. Is there no answer to these criticisms?

I wonder if the author didn’t start going wrong in his declaration about Sartre. Yes, he was probably the peak of French intellectualism, if we must use and – ism, but that is perhaps also where the phenomenon lost its prestige. Sartre’s prestige declined after his death and the failure of soviet Communism.
But has French culture really become barren because it doesn’t have an official “school” (Existentialism, Structuralism, le Nouveau Roman, les Nouveaux philosophes) anymore?
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Adventures of living in France. Can we become bilingual? Part II

Stephanie C. has written us before and now adds some of her own French-learning adventures. When she took lessons from me, she was a single American, working in Boston. Now, she’s living in France, married to a French man and mother of 3 French children. Her frustration over the French word for “colander” indicates the advanced level of her French. Her final paragraph indicates a whole separate challenge to ‘getting’ French: understanding it over the phone!

My French is not fluent I would say, but it’s ok and my French friends say its good. I still get really irritated when I can’t express myself. Couldn’t think of the word for colander (‘passoire’) the other day and got stuck mid-sentence while I was trying to explain to someone French how to make oat milk but overall it’s ok. It’s just that with complicated paperwork and taxes in French, thank goodness my husband deals with that as its too tricky.
I also still have issues on the phone because when someone calls, and I say hello: if it is someone selling something, for example, in English I would IMMEDIATELY get it, and say – no thanks, not interested, or whatever. But in French, it’s not always clear – sometimes I have to be really blunt, like “This is who? You want what exactly?!”
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Adventures of living in France. Can we become bilingual? Part I

Learning – or slowly acquiring – a new language is a miracle. Some of us have been studying it in books and in life, by teaching language as well as studying one, and still don’t know how it “happens.”

I wanted to make a “place” where people can talk about that process – the questions, frustrations, doubts, surprises, delights, discoveries. I don’t know if a blog is an appropriate place but I’m hoping people will find their way here and add thoughts so we can compare, contrast and maybe learn something.

I started by asking a few students who had studied with me in Boston and then – lucky folks! – moved to France how they were experiencing the process. I’ve received some great responses I will put here. Any observations would be welcome!

The first is from Bonnie who moved to a small town with her husband about four years ago. The following words are an extract from her account:

My French is going pretty well.  Getting better all the time but have a long way still to go. One important thing, I think – I NEVER assume someone speaks any english.  I NEVER start out by asking if the person speaks english.  Why should they?  They live in France.  However, I am feeling quite comfortable talking to everyone and, frankly, the French don’t care in the least if you botch it up – they are just so glad one makes the effort.  On more than 1 occasion French people have complimented me on my spoken French and at the same time bluntly criticized foreigners who come here, don’t learn the language, don’t wish to integrate, etc.
I find that talking to neighbors, shopkeepers, tradesmen, etc is best.  I see many French tourists all day as we live across the street from a national monument – a 12 th century romanesque church which is an absolute gem.  I open and close it everyday and change the bouquets weekly so in the course of that, I get chatting with the people who stop to visit.  This year I volunteered to be in charge of the summer concerts at the church – welcoming the musicians, helping set up, etc.  More ways to speak with people!  LISTENING to French people speak, greet each other, etc is probably most helpful.  Even if I pick up a new phrase or two each week, I am content. Obviously someone living in Paris or another large city will have an entirely different experience, but here in a small village, things like this are paramount.

Wright Salisbury, a retired architect from Lexington, wrote from a whole other perspective. Before moving, he hoped to be “the charming ole American” who could get away with French errors. I was surprised that he changed his mind. He writes:

I take four French lessons each week.  Far from being the “‘charming ole American guy’ who can get away with saying anything as long as that charm remains,” I’m very cautious. The French will make allowances, but I don’t want to offend. Of course, as here or anywhere, what constitutes proper behavior changes with the individual. The French are very polite and every conversation, even with a cashier begins with “Bonjour madame” (or “monsieur”). My French teacher greets museum guards when she enters an exhibit space, which it never occurred to me to do. I confess that I always regarded them as part of the furniture.
I don’t really feel more confident; I just say “What the hell” and keep blathering on.

I myself remember a moment I thought monumental at the time. My Danish roommate had set her alarm clock to ring at 4am in our Parisian dormitory. I awoke in shock and yelled questions at her in French using the past conditional or something like that, realizing afterward, that I never could have said that a month before – especially half asleep.
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