Typical French saying #346: ‘Ah, it eez because of zee change in zee wezzzzerrrrr’ (weather, for those of you not au-fait with this advanced French pronunciation). No-where else would you hear such a ridiculously nonsensical statement. A stifled cough and you’re an immediate victim of this imaginary temperature alteration syndrome. A yawn and you must be tired because it rained yesterday and today it’s sunny. God forbid you develop a cold, as I learnt last week the somewhat hard way. ‘Oh yes, Ella ‘as lost ‘er voice today...it must be because of zee wezzzzerrrr’. What utter nonsense. For a start, I’m English. One of those hardy creatures who persists in wearing t-shirts in February (shocker) instead of the thick winter woollies sported by a large proportion of French population. Sometimes, I even go out to a nightclub not just without a full-length parka, but often without a jacket of ANY description! Talk about crazy rosbifs.
However, having now recovered from my illness, the French finale fun (lovin’ the alliteration) continues. Highlights this week include hearing a weird French cover of Leona Lewis’ ‘Bleeding Love’ during my weekly Carrefour shop, watching a group of excitable teens (and a couple of teachers!) try on my Primark bunny onesie during today’s English Club before labelling me as ‘trop cool’ (which, of course, I am), and a few more daytrips, which I will now proceed to tell you about.
Well, last weekend was pretty packed. On Saturday, I went to a prof’s (‘cool’ onesie-wearing English slang for professeurs, aka teachers) house for lunch with her and her two sons, which was lovely, apart from the eldest’s deliberate attempts to test my language level by using what was probably the largest amount of slang I’ve ever encountered. Most of the time, my nods and nervous giggles seemed to suffice, and I thoroughly enjoyed the display of a 23 year old man being disciplined by his mum for talking ‘trop vite’ with Ella. Unfortunately, he noticed my wry smile, and got me back later on during discussions about basketball players, most specifically the name ‘John Cox’. ‘Cock’ is an English word, no Ella? Can you explain what it means? I do not know....’ As you can imagine, I was mortified. Bien joué lad, bien joué (yes, that does mean ‘well played’, for those of you poised over Google Translate). Suffice to say, I didn’t oblige, simply telling his curious mother that it was in fact ‘quite rude’ and thus earning him another telling off. Ella: 1, Frenchy: 0.
Sunday involved a trip to the Versailles Palace with the Le Havre assistants gang, which aside from being absolutely freezing (even for an English girl WITH a coat), was a fab place to visit. As under 26’s who’d been residing in France for at least 6 months, we also managed to wangle free entry and a free audio guide, both of which were added bonuses to the day. We even ate lunch in the Chateau gardens (Oh So Posh), and it was all going well until I stood up and pushed my chair back, knocking over an entire metal stand and (thankfully plastic) plant pot. It caused an incredible clang, not to mention several dirty looks from fellow customers and soil and miscellaneous flowers strewn all across the path. My second embarrassment of the weekend, and naturally, I did what any sensible wannabe high-class English girl would do....I ran.
After braving the cold to stroll around the beautiful gardens some more (and avoiding conviction in my case), we headed into Paris for the evening’s planned entertainment: tickets for a Ludovico Einaudi concert. For those of you who don’t know who he is, firstly, you’re not as cultured as me. Secondly, he’s the one of the most amazing pianists I’ve ever encountered. He wrote the music for the recent popular French film ‘Les Intouchables’, has been played on Radio 1 quite a bit, and there’s a link to his most well-known piece à la fin of this post, should you wish to up your classic music knowledge and be worthy of my upper-class friendship (ps, excuse the hippo). The concert itself was breathtaking, and there was a real hushed and reverent ambience in the auditorium during every piece, no thanks to the ‘warm-up’ act, which was hilariously awful. Picture this: a seemingly-mute man with his guitar, an irritating singer woman with a clear crush on 60-something Einaudi, and an incredibly loose grasp of the English language. Songs included ‘je suis dans no-man’s land’, and ‘Cabinet of Curiosities’- my personal favourite as it was effectively a list of household appliances put to warbling music which went something like this: ‘computer, digital camera, fridge, television....’ and so on. Someone clearly had the Oxford English dictionary for breakfast....and lunch, and dinner.
Tomorrow night, a group of teachers are hosting a ‘surprise’ party for me, made distinctly less of a surprise today when one asked me what time we were going to the restaurant (bless...), and then at the weekend I will be heading to Nice to visit a Southampton friend (hey Kasia :p), so as you can see, my life remains as busy as ever here in Le ‘aaaaavre. It must be said though (or rather, shouted from the rooftops) that this week is my last week of teaching, which will be celebrated this evening (after zumba) with a group of friends and a bottle of Madame Pommery Champagne, bought in Reims for this very purpose (told you I was posh). I’ve already said goodbye to a few of my classes, and received lots of cards with brilliantly ego-inflating messages, such as ‘English is better with you’, ‘your lessons are cool’ and the what I believe to be the truest and most relevant statement (‘from the mouths of babes’ as some may say): ‘you are very funny’.
Finally, recognition.
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