- C'est bon.
This means pretty much anything: all good, I'm ok, finished, it's tasty.
For instance: How is your meal? C'est bon. / When you're wondering if your credit card payment has been accepted: C'est bon? / You've been talking and run out of stuff to say, or have forgotten what you were going to say: Cest bon. / Should I try this food? Oui, c'est bon. / Would you like another cup of tea? C'est bon (I don't need any more). - N'importe quoi.
Whatever. So, someone says something stupid, and you say "N'importe quoi." However, it's kinda cooler than the English equivalent, because you can say "Ca, c'est n'importe quoi!" (Literally: That is whatever.) This one seems to be kind of a no way/I can't believe they did that/empathise with a friend kinda phrase.
"So then he told me that he didn't want to go out with me anymore, and that he'd already found a new girlfriend!" "Ca, c'est n'importe quoi!"
Also, you can talk about people who think they can do "n'importe quoi" (whatever they want). For example, students playing up in a class: "Ils font n'importe quoi!" - Putain.
This literally means whore but, seriously, if you're in the South West, just throw it in at the end of a sentence, or if you're surprised, if you want to say damn...
"Putain! Tu m'as fait peur!" = Damn, you gave me a fright. Does not mean that you're calling the person who gave you a fright a whore.
"Mais, putain, je te l'ai dit mille fois!" = Dammit, I've told you a hundred times!
"Ecoute-moi, putain!" = Listen to me, dammit!
"Ce putain de stylo ne marche pas" = My bloody pen won't work.
See? All-purpose word. Putain, c'est fantastique! - Con.
Kinda like putain in that it's for cursing, but it more or less means useless/stupid. I know I talked about this in an email, but I didn't save it. Putain! ;p
"Qu'il est con, ce mec" = God, that guy's an idiot.
Prendre qqn pour un con = Take someone for an idiot
"Tu joues à la con ou quoi?" = Are you trying to be an idiot? / Are you playing the fool or something?
"C'est con (ce ...)." = (This ... is stupid)/ That's stupid. - Prévoir = to plan
I'm told that the fact I've learned this since coming to France is a little bit ironic, as they rarely plan... but anyway. Useful phrase.
"T'as prévu quelque chose pour ...?" = Do you have anything planned for ...?
"C'était pas prévu." = It wasn't planned. - "C'était pour savoir..." = I just wanted to know...
Sometimes, listening to other people's conversations provides you with just the phrase you've been looking for. This one is very simply explained. Just put it at the front of any inquiry, lol.
C'était pour savoir... if it's here that I can extend the length of my visa.
C'était pour savoir... if I could get a key for this classroom.
C'était pour savoir... where the rugby practice is going to be.
Etc, etc. - "C'est énorme!" (Literally, that's huge).
I find myself using this often: not really sure why.
Can be used literally, eg standing in front of the Notre Dame: "C'est énorme!"
However, from what I understand, it's also used like "that's a big ask": So, learn your dialogue by heart for next week. "C'est énorme!"
And I have a 5-hour meeting: "C'est énorme!"
Or, "It's a 24-hour flight to get back to NZ": "C'est énorme!" - Par contre = however, possibly a bit like 'actually'
This can be used formally, to show opposition.
Historically, the Maori party has been more closely allied with the Labour party. Par contre, lately they have moved to have closer relations with the National party.
However (par contre), I hear it used all the time in spoken language, often just when people want to change the subject slightly.
Are you going to have lunch with us? No, I'm eating at the canteen today. Par contre, I'll be in the library at 1.
I told him to come at 3. Par contre, Sally can't come. - Hop là = (more or less) ooh! Possibly "whoa!"
I don't even know if I've written this correctly, 'cos it's very 'spoken.'
Someone smashes a glass: Hop là / Someone almost bumps into you in the street: Hop là / Someone appears out of nowhere: Hop là
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Essential French in 9 Easy Phrases
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have decided that there are several phrases that anyone coming to France should master, in order to be able to communicate with ease.
The Life of Speed Racer
When I was talking to its owner yesterday, I found out that this bike has quite a history. As she was young in the time when you went everywhere by bike, it has really travelled.
It has been down the the Gave in Pau, to go swimming. Just to clarify, the bike did not go swimming. But the owner did.
One day, she and friends went to Lourdes (I think this was from Pau because, if it was from Saint Gaudens, WOW).
It has also been ridden around the Paris ringroad. Now that is brave. However, she assures me that there wasn't as much traffic around in those days.
If you enlarge this, hopefully you'll see Pau in the South West, near the Spanish border.For the moment, however, it is contenting itself mostly with short hops around Saint Gaudens, with a few excursions to nearby towns. Kids these days... soft.
Outdoor Lunch: Tick; Feed People Marmite: Tick
Sometimes, I have moments here when I think "yeah, that's exactly what I imagined France to be like."
Eg: when I first found the market in Saint Gaudens. It takes over the whole town on Thursdays!
Most recent example, was a lunch in the back yard at the Atelier des Cultures. Have been doing a language exchange with the French lady who runs it; that is to say that we meet each week and spend an hour speaking French, and an hour speaking English.
She invited me to come along to a workshop at the Atelier and, at midday, we had a shared lunch in the back yard. We had amazing luck, because it was a beautiful day, and quite warm. A week later, it was about 1.6 degrees outside, so clearly we picked the right one. ;p
There were many countries represented here: France, Spain, Argentina, Britain, America, Holland, Germany, New Zealand. Everyone brought something typical of their country and, as you may have seen in the photo, I introduced these poor, unsuspecting people to Marmite.
The British lady insisted that British Marmite was better. One French guy was like "that stuff's disgusting" and told me about how someone had told him it was like Nutella, and given him a spoonfull. If that's not cruel and unusual punishment, I don't know what is!
I forget that people don't have any concept of what Marmite is like, so it was the Brtish lady and French guy who were giving the "no, that's too much" instructions.
It seemed that, in general, people thought it was pretty yuck. Oh well. All the more for me.
Eg: when I first found the market in Saint Gaudens. It takes over the whole town on Thursdays!
Most recent example, was a lunch in the back yard at the Atelier des Cultures. Have been doing a language exchange with the French lady who runs it; that is to say that we meet each week and spend an hour speaking French, and an hour speaking English.
She invited me to come along to a workshop at the Atelier and, at midday, we had a shared lunch in the back yard. We had amazing luck, because it was a beautiful day, and quite warm. A week later, it was about 1.6 degrees outside, so clearly we picked the right one. ;p
There were many countries represented here: France, Spain, Argentina, Britain, America, Holland, Germany, New Zealand. Everyone brought something typical of their country and, as you may have seen in the photo, I introduced these poor, unsuspecting people to Marmite.
The British lady insisted that British Marmite was better. One French guy was like "that stuff's disgusting" and told me about how someone had told him it was like Nutella, and given him a spoonfull. If that's not cruel and unusual punishment, I don't know what is!
I forget that people don't have any concept of what Marmite is like, so it was the Brtish lady and French guy who were giving the "no, that's too much" instructions.
It seemed that, in general, people thought it was pretty yuck. Oh well. All the more for me.
Galette et Couronne des Rois
I'm just going to completely steal what I wrote in an email about this...
"Discovered a tradition here: la galette des rois, and la couronne des rois. For Epiphany (but it seems to have extended to include before Xmas, and pretty much all of Jan) people eat these yummy cake things, the names of which I listed above. In one of the pieces, there's a fève... I think that's how you spell it. Generally a little porcelain thing, kinda like the hiding a penny or whatever it was in the Xmas pud. And whoever gets this fève puts the crown on and is King for a day. Although, I think someone told me that they can also choose a Queen (or a King, I guess, if a lady gets it). Anywho, (I'm really hoping I've got this the right way around), the galette is kinda like a sweet pie: pastry, with an almondy filling, sometimes frangipani-flavoured... I think there are quite a lot of variations. The couronnne is more of a bread-like thing, shaped like a large doughnut (or crown, logically) with sugary crystals on top. In other words: yum. We should take up this tradition. Oh, and you also drink cider with it. So I'm not complaining."
Picture below was taken at the lycée, as their social club organised to have this spread for the staff. Couronne = the one closest to the camera. Galette = the one at the end of the table.
"Discovered a tradition here: la galette des rois, and la couronne des rois. For Epiphany (but it seems to have extended to include before Xmas, and pretty much all of Jan) people eat these yummy cake things, the names of which I listed above. In one of the pieces, there's a fève... I think that's how you spell it. Generally a little porcelain thing, kinda like the hiding a penny or whatever it was in the Xmas pud. And whoever gets this fève puts the crown on and is King for a day. Although, I think someone told me that they can also choose a Queen (or a King, I guess, if a lady gets it). Anywho, (I'm really hoping I've got this the right way around), the galette is kinda like a sweet pie: pastry, with an almondy filling, sometimes frangipani-flavoured... I think there are quite a lot of variations. The couronnne is more of a bread-like thing, shaped like a large doughnut (or crown, logically) with sugary crystals on top. In other words: yum. We should take up this tradition. Oh, and you also drink cider with it. So I'm not complaining."
Picture below was taken at the lycée, as their social club organised to have this spread for the staff. Couronne = the one closest to the camera. Galette = the one at the end of the table.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Fridge Magnet Fun (Thanks, Mum)
Woohoo for Kiwi words! Mum sent me over here with the magnet set, so I finally decided to have a go on our fridge.
Kingi was very pleased to see his native language again.
The New World That My Bike Allows Me To Discover...
Speed Racer... a close up.
Speed Racer from a bit further away.
The thriving metropolis of Sarvathès. But it is really cute.
Pyrénées from just beside Saint-Gaudens.
Me trying to be really French (very near where last photo was taken), with my baguette, mountains in the background and Kiwi... ok, so wasn't trying to be totally French.
Near Sarvathès, looking towards the Pyrénées. Yep, pretty sweet.
Down below Saint-Gaudens.
Felt like I could have been at home here... SHEEP!
Party Like It's 1999: NYE
Sabrina and I were invited to an apéro at Abou's to celebrate NYE. This was good not only for the social side, but because it made me use French. This time, Sabrina and I had ended up speaking English, and therefore my French was deteriorating! However, some people still seemed to think I could barely understand French and tried to speak English to me. Lol.
Anywho, our hosts had been busy preparing food, so we ate very well that night! Chips, nuts, foie gras, chicken, rice, some kind of tasty sauce... sure I've left lots of things out, but you get the idea. And there were, of course, liquid refreshments available.
There were several mentions of playing a game like poker or something of the like... however this never happened. Probably luckily for me, as I don't think I'm made for poker! What did happen was what I can best describe as a circle of dance. One person started and did a few seconds of dancing, then it was the next person's turn, and so on, and so on. This proved to be surprisingly entertaining. Also, I have decided that guys from Mayotte know what they're doing when it comes to dancing! NZ guys could learn some things...!
One of the guys started to teach us some kind of... well, it was kinda like a line dance (I think), but cooler than the typical image I have in my mind of line dancing! However, the size of the living room kinda put constraints on this, and made it kinda difficult for more than 2-3 people to do it at once. However, I still think it would have been epic to watch a group of people (who knew what they were doing) do this. I spent most of my time looking over my shoulder at our 'instructor' because I'd forgotten what step came next!
The threats of teaching us to 'zouk' were realised. As mentioned in another post, Sab had described this dance as "pretty much looking like you're having sex on the dancefloor" (which is why I declared that I was afraid every time they mentioned teaching it to us) and I soon realised she had a point. Anyway, if you want to see what it is like, here's a link. That one really is rather saucy, lol.
However, the boys seemed to think it was hilarious that we found it kinda awkward, and told us several times "n'aie pas peur de moi! C'est que du zouk, il y a pas de mal à ça!" (don't be afraid of me! It's just zouk, it's nothing bad).
Finally, well after midnight, we headed to a nightclub. First one was a total rip-off... we paid for parking only to wait in the cold in a queue and then be told we couldn't get in. Sabrina (and many others in our party) still reckons that the doormen were just being racist... well, their loss. Second club was (thankfully) more successful. Even busted out some zouk when there were appropriate songs and ahem, well, anyway, let's just say that even if I didn't take up the cheeky waiter on his French kiss offer, it was no biggie since another opportunity arose...
Anywho, our hosts had been busy preparing food, so we ate very well that night! Chips, nuts, foie gras, chicken, rice, some kind of tasty sauce... sure I've left lots of things out, but you get the idea. And there were, of course, liquid refreshments available.
There were several mentions of playing a game like poker or something of the like... however this never happened. Probably luckily for me, as I don't think I'm made for poker! What did happen was what I can best describe as a circle of dance. One person started and did a few seconds of dancing, then it was the next person's turn, and so on, and so on. This proved to be surprisingly entertaining. Also, I have decided that guys from Mayotte know what they're doing when it comes to dancing! NZ guys could learn some things...!
One of the guys started to teach us some kind of... well, it was kinda like a line dance (I think), but cooler than the typical image I have in my mind of line dancing! However, the size of the living room kinda put constraints on this, and made it kinda difficult for more than 2-3 people to do it at once. However, I still think it would have been epic to watch a group of people (who knew what they were doing) do this. I spent most of my time looking over my shoulder at our 'instructor' because I'd forgotten what step came next!
The threats of teaching us to 'zouk' were realised. As mentioned in another post, Sab had described this dance as "pretty much looking like you're having sex on the dancefloor" (which is why I declared that I was afraid every time they mentioned teaching it to us) and I soon realised she had a point. Anyway, if you want to see what it is like, here's a link. That one really is rather saucy, lol.
However, the boys seemed to think it was hilarious that we found it kinda awkward, and told us several times "n'aie pas peur de moi! C'est que du zouk, il y a pas de mal à ça!" (don't be afraid of me! It's just zouk, it's nothing bad).
Finally, well after midnight, we headed to a nightclub. First one was a total rip-off... we paid for parking only to wait in the cold in a queue and then be told we couldn't get in. Sabrina (and many others in our party) still reckons that the doormen were just being racist... well, their loss. Second club was (thankfully) more successful. Even busted out some zouk when there were appropriate songs and ahem, well, anyway, let's just say that even if I didn't take up the cheeky waiter on his French kiss offer, it was no biggie since another opportunity arose...
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