French Word-A-Day

bon sang

Jean-Marc, strolling with me through the town of Vacqueras.

I'm just going to steal one more photo ...from the upcoming Cinéma Vérité edition... before I get my act together, and figure out how to temporarily organize myself on my son's new computer after regaining power (and one new PC...) here at the farm. That's my husband, le vigneron(pictured above).  Just two days after he left for a multi-city USA wine tour, we lost all power back here at the grape farm. No electricity! (I knew Jean-Marc was taking the juice with him, but this is ridiculous!) PS: re the ASU t-shirt: I met my husband in 1990, while on an exchange program organized by Arizona State University. This photo was taken three weeks ago.

bon sang (bohn sahn) expression

    : dammit!, for Pete's sake, jeepers, for cryin' out loud....

There are many translations for "bon sang". A Google book search brings up a rainbow of equivalents. Today, I ask you to add your own translations here, in the comments box. Let's make this a big rainbow!

 
I was driving the kids to school this morning, giving thanks for the sun shining across the fields of vines (we've been without heat since Le Big Fry) and feeling lucky to be on time....

Our conversation was centered on le changement d'horaire,* something for which we were speeding to catch up with ever since, at 6:45 am I learned it was, in fact, 7:45 am!

"I didn't realize the time had changed!" I apologized to the kids.
"Oh, I knew about it," Max said.
"Me, too," his sister added.

Ah bon?* Well, the next time you have insider information like that, would you mind sharing it with me?"

As I looked into the rear-view mirror, to see whether anyone was listening, I noticed that my son was not wearing a seat-belt.
"Max! Put your seat-belt on... for goodness sakes!"

After a bout of silence, my daughter spoke:

"What does "goodness sakes" mean?" Jackie wanted to know.

Our child's question caught me by surprise.
"Goodness... means "something good". That's when it occurred to me that this half of the definition defeated our purpose (we needed to get those seat-belts on lest something bad happen!).

"Goodness sakes is something to say instead of saying a gros mot*!"

"Well, what does it mean?" Max asked, and, for once, I was certain that both kids were listening to me.

Goodness sakes? What, come to think of it, did "sakes" mean anyway? 
"It's like bon sang, I guess!"

I looked into the rear-view mirror and noticed that my son seemed satisfied with the translation, which he quickly shared with his sister, in English: "GOOD BLOOD!"

Well, it wasn't an exact equivalent, but it was exact in other ways, exact enough to make us smile like pirates as we sped forward into the future, leaving our cares farther down the time line.

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Corrections, comments, or stories of your own... always welcome in the comments box. Merci d'avance. We love reading your words!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~French Vocabulary~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
le changement d'horaire (m) = time change; ah bon? = oh, really?; le gros mot (m) = cuss word

The first French bike my mom gave me. Can you tell that she borrowed it back? (that's her hat in the basket). Photo © K. Espinasse, from the French Word archives. 

Shopping:

French Clockmaker sign : a reproduction of an old French merchant's sign
Bonne Maman Strawberry Preserves : made with no colorings, artificial preservatives, pulps, purees, juices or concentrates.
In French Music: "Au sourire de l'âme" by Pep's (recommended by my son, Max)

cramer

all photos © Kristin Espinasse

Bonjour from the internet cafe here in Sainte Cécile-Les-Vignes. Too bad it takes a small catastrophe to drive one outdoors and into the neighborly streets... The good news is I've met two new friends, Carole and Abdallah (here at the tourist office); many thanks to these two for allowing me to use the web facilities! More about the Where, When, and Why of our recent (electrical) catastophe, "Le BIG FRY," in today's story column.

A note to Cinéma Vérité viewers: I swiped the above photo from our Cinéma Vérité blog as I do not have access to my computer files at the moment... (!!!). For this reason, the Saturday edition (for March 28th) will not go out. Please accept my apologies and thank you for your understanding. Meantime, I am working on a solution to this small calamity (read on in today's post).

cramer(krah-may) verb

    : to burn down; to go up in flames/smoke

Expression: Ça crame! = It's roasting!

Note: the last edition of this post featured the word of the day totally misspelled (with two m's). Mes excuses! (That said, the two m's will have to remain in the post title... or else the link to this page might not work.)
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"Le Big Fry"

The French word cramer does not mean "to study intensively for an exam" -- although one could argue that "to cram" is to be put to the TEST. And, it should be pointed out that the French verb cramer is used informally... never mind any formal apologies from EDF (the French electric company). Also, though cramer is the opposite of keeping cool, keep cool one must when the power and the appliances go bust!

Briefly:

Cramer is to burn... as in our family computer that went bust after a power burst.

Cramer is to go up in smoke, as in our telephones--all three--this, following an electric spree!

Cramer = kaput, as in my brother-in-law's coffee machine, yet one more victim of excess power turned "steam"!

Cramer is to go up in flames... as in all of those candles, quickly scavenged and lit, in time to see one's dinner sandwich (no more stove top on which to cook!).  

Cramer is not to cry, but to remain cool while, one by one, all those modern day appliances twist, spit, and drool: up to you, now, to get by with the most basic tools (candlelight and one's own might).

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Update: After our recent power SURGE! (I guess that's what you'd call it) and shut down, the electricity has returned to the farm! So much for the good news. Meantime, I'll be doing some home inventory for all that's been cuit, cooked, and cramé (including the computer modem... For this reason, delivery of the "thrice-weekly" French Word-A-Day newsletter... may be sketchy). Thank you for using the comments box (click here) to respond to this post or to share a story of your own.

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Shopping:
Chasing Matisse: A Year in France Living My Dream

I'll Never Be French (no matter what I do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany

In French music: Serge Lama

Songs in French for Children including Alouette, Sur le Pont d'Avignon, Claire Fontaine, Prom'non Nous dans les Bois...

coupable

Mystery, intrigue... and a flower thief in Sainte Cécile-les-Vignes. Read on. photo © Jules Greer

When my mom, Jules, steps off the plane in France she always feels like she has stepped back in time: into the very footsteps of French soldiers; their traces now obliterated: all that remains is the ghost of war. Regular old vines begin to look like calvary in Mom's artist's mind, ever seeing, ever inspired by another's bravery. Mom took this photo, so fascinated was she by the eerie effect of smoke (the neighbor was burning weeds) wafting through the vineyard. Read on, for more of my mom's impressions, in her letter below.
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Cinéma Vérité (French Word-A-Day's weekend photo supplement) is about to become cinematic... Don't miss upcoming videos of French life! You will also have access to the last two photo bouquets with over 30 pictures and several "story citations" that accompany them. More info here.

Today's Word

coupable (coo-pahbl) adjective
    : guilty

noun, masculine: culprit, guilty party

Audio file and example sentence:
Download Coupable wav . Download Coupable mp3
Ma maman commence à se sentir coupable.
My mom is beginning to feel guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Shopping~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quiet Corners of Paris: More than eighty of the loveliest, most tranquil, and sometimes hidden places in Paris are celebrated in this charming guidebook.

Riz rouge: Premier red rice from southeastern France. This region has been designated as a "Protected Geographic Appelation" by the French government.

Caudalie Beauty Elixir : vine therapy for your skin with rosemary, peppermint, and orange extracts.

For as long as I can get away with it, I will bribe my mom to write this column, via her letters. It gives me time to catch up with all that sprints ahead of me: namely, meal-preparation, dust, and laundry. As for the bribe: Jules likes chocolate and a hot meal--and she's requested one of those fold-out nylon chairs (in which to sit comfortably as she watches her grandchildren at play, whether on the court or in the arena). Mom might also be coerced to continue writing in exchange for one of those Flip cameras -- so that she can start filming this "reality show" that is French Life Unfolding around her. What do you think? Can we trust her with a video camera? Meantime, enjoy her latest letter.

My Darling Kristi,

I am lying on your cot in your office thinking about all I have learned from you  -- just this morning !!!  I am exhausted as I know you are also.  We tend to feed off of each other and then escalate to the point of exhaustion.  As I am resting I sense the wonderful fragrance of lunch being prepared by you below, in your kitchen. You are still working away in that determined manner you have acquired along life's path.  I am feeling a little coupable, trying to justify my couch time against your zeal for order. I think you have inherited this gene from your Darling Dad.

We seem to have activated so many new projects in the past four days -- I think we tend to forget I just arrived last Thursday evening and today is just Sunday morning.  One thing I know for sure -- last
September when I visited I tried to teach you the art of delegation - you have become a master of this.  I am now the victim of your new and highly honed skill as I hurriedly list all of the goals that YOU
have assigned to me just this morning... as you run around repeating "MANY HANDS MAKE LIGHT WORK!"

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Comment on Mom's letter, or the photos (that's Jules, below, swiping flowers along a route nationale (between Jonquières and Orange). In the second photo she is hurrying to the car after I've ordered her back in a panic -- and just in time for a swift getaway!

Finally, Jean-Marc is in NYC today! It's not too late to join him for this -- or one of his other USA multi-city wine tastings tour! Have a look here for the list of cities where he will pour his wines, including his gold winner "Mistral".

rencontre

photos © Kristin Espinasse

A sneak peek at the next Cinéma Vérite photo display: an eclectic mix of over a dozen new images that will be published tomorrow afternoon, France time. Don't miss them: find out how to access this private collection.

Mille mercis to Divya, Jacqui, Ally, and Leslie (and anyone I might have missed) for translating Marie-Françoise's story. You'll find their versions (in American and English) in the "routine" and "anodin" comments boxes!

Jean-Marc's USA Wine Tour: If you are near NYC on 03/23, you are very welcome to join Jean-Marc for one of his wine tastings. Have a look here for the list of cities where he will pour his wines, including his gold winner "Mistral".

Today's French Word:

rencontre
    : encounter, meeting (of persons); duel, skirmish


Audio File and Example sentence:
Download Rencontre * Download Rencontre-mp 3
Toute culture naît du mélange, de la rencontre, des chocs. A l'inverse, c'est de l'isolement que meurent les civilisations. All cultures are born out of mingling, meetings and clashes. Conversely, civilizations die from isolation. --Octavio Paz



Jules made it from Mexico to Marseilles yesterday! On the way out of the airport terminal, Mom and I stopped along the tree-lined sidewalk to gather handfuls of grapefruit-size cones that the parasol pines had dropped onto the parking lot. Like that, our treasure hunt has begun and I'm excited thinking about where the next eight weeks will take us, as Mom and I help each other to see France through one another's eyes.

Speaking about seeing France, here is a letter that Jules wrote just hours before she left Mexico. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have.

A note about grammar and syntax (whatever that last one means): Mom is pouting in the corner as I prepare to post her unedited letter (I threw my hands up in the air, in despair, after the third run-on sentence, at which point I quit fixing things). Mom's just nervous about grammar, and thinks she's going to sound really dumb compared to some of the blog commenters (she cites "Newforest" and "Intuit" among others). Because Mom was thrown out of school at 16, she has a huge inferiority complex over her composition skills (having daydreamed through every English class). That said, I did reserve the right to edit out just one word (I replaced "interrupter" with "interpreter". I still don't know whether that was a Freudian slip on the part of Mom, but I don't like being referred to as an interrupter! Read on, in Mom's letter.

My Dearest Marie-Francoise,

 

I have waited since last week for the translation of your beautiful story. What a delightful surprise for me this morning. How generous of you to let us into a moment of your life in your beautiful village.  I wonder if everyone knows how famous your village is, perhaps Kristi can post a link.  Your wine is world famous! Whenever someone asks me where I am going to be in France I always say "Have you ever heard of "Chateauneuf-de-Pape? I'll be almost next door in a little village about 15 minutes north." 

I'll never forget the first time I visited your lovely home and vineyard, and your amazing wine cellar located in another area of the village.  Wine barrels of old wood the size of little French Citroen.  A treasured memory forever.

 

I actually had a beautiful rencontre with a little old woman as Kristi and I were climbing up the ancient pathway to your house two years ago.  The first thing I noticed as we came around the corner were her bright red geraniums, then, as my eyes settled on what clippings I could swipe, my eye was drawn to her black and white checked tile floor with the little curtain of beads blocking my way.

A few "Coo-coo's, are you there Darling?" and I had my new friend pulled from her morning chores in the back of her house, out in the courtyard explaining to my interpreter (Kristi) what treasures her garden held.  Kristi, do you think you could find that photo of us when she gifted me with the antique pot and plant that now resides in your office. Didn't we name that darling little plant "Rachel"?

 

My goodness am I off-track on today's subject, sitting here typing when I should be packing.  My little helper "Adela" has been ironing all of my little Mexican poncho's and now she is threatening me with the vacuum noise to get off this computer. Back to today's topic, "Little old ladies in the morning - preparing their entrances for another day in Provence Paradise."

 

I can remember when I spent almost a month in Marseilles with my husband John and my Mom Audrey, preparing for Kristi and Jean-Marc's wedding.  Jean-Marc found us a little guest house close to Vieux Port.  Each morning I would step out of the bedroom through a french door onto a lovely patio even larger than our bedroom.  This patio hovered over the street on the side of Marseilles beautiful hills.  John had arranged all of my paints and easel, along with a comfortable chair.  As I sipped my early morning "Pastis" (those days are long gone), I became fascinated with the different styles each woman demonstrated as she prepared her front entrance for the day.  The lady I was most drawn to was always dressed to the nines (heels too!) but her demeanor shouted drill Sargent attacking, attacking, attacking the steps with her broom and then scrubbing like the plague had passed her door the night before.  I continued to sip my pastis and watch the village unfold.

A few mornings later I abandoned my work and joined the fray to become one of the people in my painting.  My Mother thought I was nuts talking to everyone, continually telling me to 'settle down". My John just smiled and winked.  Throughout this visit I managed to meet most of the people on MY STREET, and even drift down to the docks and meet all of the fishermen. The woman who has remained forever in my memories was a little old lady directly across from my "studio" who encouraged me to become her assistant as we went from station to station each morning feeding the wild cats of the hills above our street.  After our work we would return to her little ground floor studio apartment, me to lie on her bed in the kitchen while she prepared me one of her many little treats each day as my reward for packing the water and food up the hills.  After my rest I moved onto the next neighbor, securing her German Shepard, so I could pretend I was a French lady walking my dog around the secret side streets of this vivid and famous city.  I will never forget the surprise in my little lady's voice when I called her 6 months later from Arizona.  She recognized my voice and I chatted on in English, she in French, as our tears of joy in real friendship trailed down our cheeks.

COMO TALLY CHATS??? One of my first French phrases....

 

I was invited into many of the homes of Marseilles over the next month, sampling in love and friendship, experiencing the true hospitality of the French. I will always treasure these memories, especially walking Kristi down the isle in my black tuxedo.

 

Of course my Darling Jean-Marc found out that his future mother-in-law wasn't ready for the rock'in chair as I entered his life full blast.  Poor Jean-Marc had no idea what a woman (who had been divorced for 25 years--independent to the hilt) from the wild, wild west was like. As I have mentioned

before Jean-Marc and I have crossed over many torrential rivers together, I'm sure I was not what he had in mind, but I now occupy a giant part of his heart - a woman he lovingly started calling MOM about 5 years ago.

 

Time to finish packing - I'll see you all soon in our beautiful FRANCE. 

 

VIVA LA FRANCE!

 

XOXO

 

JULES

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If you enjoyed Mom's letter, you might leave her a note in the comments box. Mille mercis!

 

In the French town of Violès... photo © Kristin Espinasse

Today's question: What's so French about this photo? Let's talk about his image in the comments box!

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anodin

A roof over one's head in the town of Monêtier les Bains (French Alps). photo © Kristin Espinasse

Shopping:
Chasing Matisse: A Year in France Living My Dream
I'll Never Be French (no matter what I do): Living in a Small Village in Brittany
Songs in French for Children including Alouette, Sur le Pont d'Avignon, Claire Fontaine, Prom'non Nous dans les Bois...
In French music: Serge Lama

Today's French Word

anodin(e) (ano-dehn, ano-deen) adjective

    : harmless; innocuous; insignificant, trivial


Audio File: hear today's word and example sentence:
Download Wav  Download MP3

Ces plantations modestes, le plus souvent des géraniums, sont l'occasion de conversations anodines entre voisins. These modest plantings, the most often, geraniums, are the occasion for easy conversation among neighbors.

Un petit mot from Kristin...
Today, in regards to this edition, we are going to delegate! You will choose the word and you get to translate Monday's French story (she says, putting up her feet and feeling the first tingling sensation of freedom--or just plain bossiness!).

The first person I am going to pick on is Jim who, unbeknownst to him, has already done his share of the work (and is now officially off the hook, but the rest of you are not, so stay with us)....

I read Jim's words last night, in the comments box, and his thoughts both inspired today's word... and got me thinking about the day's question. In regards to my aunt's most recent story (posted in French on Monday) Jim writes:

The word in Tante Marie-Françoise's piece that caught my eye was "anodin" ("conversations anodines"); a similar-looking word in English is "anodyne", which refers to pain-killers or analgesics. Is innocent, "safe" conversation a pain-killer?

Great question. Now tell us what you think, dear reader : does a little bit of conversation légère minimize our malaise? Or would you rather be all alone in your pain and suffering (opting to come out of the cave and talk at the "break of a new day")? Do you have any examples of how la conversation is good for le coeur? Or do you wish people would just shut up! (se taire!) when you are smarting with pain. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, here.

PS: If that question is just too deep, here's another: What was the topic of your latest conversation? (Mine: work... "Jean-Marc, would you please help me with the sound file?" Jean-Marc "Later. I'm waiting for the consulting enologist to arrive."). Leave your answer here.

Now, back to delegation... I am assigning the translation of Marie-Françoise's latest article to anyone who might enjoy translating it. Thank you for sharing your English rendition of "La Routine" in the comments box, for all to enjoy!

As for me, la délégatrice, I've got beds to make, a patio to sweep, flower pots to primp... and one larger-than-life Mom to greet at the Marseilles airport tomorrow. Hip, hip, hurray ...and "See you" on Friday!

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I stole this photo from my Mom's blog. Here she is, having sweet-talked yet another complete stranger into giving her a ride to the playground. As many of you know, Mom dropped out of the rat race years ago. So far (never mind bankruptcy & a double mastectomy) she hasn't had to look back... as long as she keeps busy looking skyward.

Book recommendation: I don't usually understand sarcastic wit or cynicism, but Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell and The Butterfly really touched me. Read the book in one night, or take the time to appreciate Bauby's thoughtful prose, one or two mini-chapters a day. (I haven't yet seen the movie. Have you?)

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