French Word-A-Day

la frangine

Jean-Marc's frangine qui fait la cuisine.

Cracking the SAT French Subject Test, 2009-2010 Edition
"Hide This French Book" is (ooh, là là) an uncensored language guide...

Today we continue with character. (Hey, that might make for good self-talk: "Today, I continue with character! Enough of this predictable, perfectionistic, pooh-hah. Bring on la bohémienne!")  Allow me, now, to introduce you to another personnage. When I grow up, I hope to be more like her. Read on, in today's story column.


la frangine (frahn-zheen) noun, feminine

     : sister (informal French)
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A Day in a French Life...
by Kristin Espinasse

When Jean-Marc's sister comes to stay with us, the kids want to touch their aunt's pink hair, ride in her orange car and give up their beds for her comfort. Do you still live in a bus and can we come visit? they want to know.

She's sold the school bus, she tells them, but now calls a camion* "home" and the kids are always welcome to visit. (The home's location being of a transient nature, such a visit might be in Normandy or Paris or even Africa--wherever improv or immobilier* might take her. Indeed, Aunt Cécile has relocated for work--as a mime, as a circus-tent technician--and, most recently, as a driver for a punk-rock band (she holds a poids lourds* license for her 5-ton truck). She no longer squats property, but co-owns a bit of land. Her frangin,* my husband, likes to tease her, "And just what will you do the day someone comes squatting on your property?" The former squatteuse just smiles in response, but I know very well what she'd say to the homeless: Salut, amie. Bienvenue!

Aunt Cécile with the pink hair is going to drive her clunky orange wagon to Africa; her mission, to transport English books to a bibliothèque* in Gambia. For cash, which she calls "du flouze,"* she'll sell her car along the way, in Morocco perhaps, where station wagons (which the French call "breaks") are used as taxis. And while she's there she'll get the travel immunization she needs (less expensive in Morocco, where, for the price of one French injection, she and her potes* can each get vaccinated).

But before she goes, there are so many things I want to ask my sister-in-law about her life, one so different from mine. "We don't ask these questions," my mother-in-law sighs, wanting to ask them more than I.

Along a manicured driveway, there we stand side by side, my frangine and I... I with salon highlights in my hair, my sister-in-law with Mercurochrome streaks in hers (the dark red color stains it radical pink), I with diamonds on my ring finger, she with jewels in her soul. She is a French Robin Hood and her treasures are the cast-offs that she spirits away from the "aisés".* I am the stable, square, secure, sometimes spoiled, sister-in-law; still searching, sometimes simmering, longing to be spirited away along with those old clothes of mine that are headed out the door, to Afrique, along with the books and supplies that will improve lives.

As we are about to say our goodbyes, I finish packing a box full of giveaways, and secretly pretend, as I always do, that I am getting into that orange jalopy of Cecile's and running away with the circus-tent technician.
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Feedback and corrections are always welcome, appreciated, and helpful. Thank you for responding to my story. Can't think of anything to say? Then simply answer this question: Who inspires you? Whose good works have moved you? Who would you like to emulate? Take this occasion to honor an aunt, a teacher, a child... a doctor, a garbage man, a quiet conqueror of hopelessness... by leaving them a note of admiration here.

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...........................French Vocabulary...............................
le camion (m) = truck; l'immobilier (m) = property business; le poids lourd (m) = heavy goods vehicle; le frangin (m) = brother; la bibliothèque (f) = library; le flouze (or flouse) (m) = dough (argot for cash as are le fric, le pognon, le blé, and la thune); le pote (m) = pal; aisé(e) = well-heeled (financially comfortable)

More on the French word frangine...

In addition to la frangine... we have le frangin (frahn-zhan) = brother

Example sentence for frangine (and, ouf, let me tell you, it isn't always easy to find literary references to illustrate these words-of-the day... here goes:

  Elle est gironde, ta frangine!
  She is buxom, your sister!

(from the book "Le manque à aimer" by Michelle Lévi-Provencal)

It could be that I have mis-translated the above quote. For frangine also appears to be a synonyme to "femme". In her book French Today: Language in its Social Context Carol Sanders writes (concerning argot, or French slang) that "...nana, Julie, gonzesse, frangine, meuf, poupée, pouliche, etc. ...are all potentially available as alternatives to 'femme'..."*

*to the list, above, one could add "nénette" (young woman)

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AUDIO FILE: Listen: hear Jean-Marc pronounce the words "frangin" and "frangine" as well as today's quote:   Elle est gironde, ta frangine! Download frangine.wav


More wisteria, more flowers, more France... in this Saturday's Cinéma Vérite. Put a little France in your weekend when you become a contributing member of French Word-A-Day.

Three Random Words:
une airelle (f) = blueberry => une airelle des marais = cranberry
un bavoir = bib (baby)
un dessus-de-lit (m) = bedspread

une pantoufle

This week we reunite with three characters from the archives, French personnages who have touched me in one way or another. I hope they will touch you, too. Note: a sound file for today's word, and more, can be found at the end of this letter.

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Pantoufle

(pahn-too-fle)

noun, feminine

  : slipper

 

The man in line in front of me wore pantoufles two sizes too small. His swollen calves, riddled with eczema, hung over his ankles, which disappeared into his shrunken slippers. As usual, he wore sweatpants that rose mid-calf.

I often see the man in pantoufles hanging out of a village poubelle. He is passionate about garbage and is forever reaching for it. His backside, with the vertical line peeking out from the center of his waistband, is a familiar sight in our village. When he isn't dangling (and flashing) from a trash barrel, he is hunched over, collecting litter from the street, careful to put the waste where it belongs. We have a tidy village thanks to this man, who appears to both love and abhor trash.

Standing in line at the Crédit Agricole, the man wearing pantoufles waited for his turn to visit the bank teller. He had that same blank look on his face, the one he wears while hunting for garbage: expressionless, transfixed by trash—or troubled by it, you never know.

From behind the counter, the pretty guichetière inquired:

"How much today, Jean-Pierre?"

J.-P. stepped forward and replied, "Vingt euros."

"Il n'y a pas. You don't have that much," she answered. "How about fifteen?"

Jean-Pierre nodded, fixing his eyes on a ballpoint pen chained to the comptoir.

"Here you are. And don't spend it all at the Bar des Sports, okay?"

Jean-Pierre remained unresponsive to the guichetière's charm and humor. Though the carefree cashier and the catatonic garbage-picker had this same exchange every day, I stood there, ill at ease about overhearing the limits of J.-P.'s fortune. Not that I didn't know even more about him—and his family (everyone knows everything about everybody in this village. Or so they like to think they do).

Take, for example, J.-P.'s sister, Agnès, who hangs out the clothes to dry along their apartment's tiny 2nd-floor balcony. She does housework in her underwear. The only time she is dressed is in the winter or when she walks her dilapidated dog. She has the exact same corpulent frame as her brother and looks identical to him; only, she wears teal-green eye shadow, caked black mascara and red lipstick when she drinks. Drunk or sober, her hair is a nid d'oiseau. When she's not hanging out clothes, she can be heard a kilometer away, barking orders to their elderly mother.

"J'en ai marre! Mange! Mange! I'm fed up! Eat! Eat!" she says, waving a spoon before her mother.

My own mom, Jules, who lived for a while in a third-floor studio across the street from Jean-Pierre and his family, encouraged me to not be so quick to judge Agnès (pronounced ON-yes).

"She has so many worries," Mom explained. "Poor thing. She has to spoonfeed her mother, who sits there, mouth clamped shut, stubborn as can be. When she does get a spoonful in, her mother just spits it right back out! Then she's got all that laundry. She never stops!"

I tried not to judge Agnès, but I did find myself avoiding her, and I crossed the street at the sight of her and her porto-enflamed cheeks. Something about her seemed déséquilibrée.

One day, while walking to my mom's studio, I saw Agnès slumped over her doorstep. I noticed she was dressed. From her eyes poured two black rivers, down her face, across her red lips and onto her thin, soiled shirt. My mom sat next to Agnès, her arm around the sad woman's shoulder. In front of the women there was a flurry of French paramedics, beyond, a narrow stretcher covered with a long white sheet. My eyes locked on the bundle in the center, beneath le drap blanc.

That evening I saw Agnès' brother snapping up litter from the uneven cobblestone paths of our village. His pants were on straight, and the unsightly crack had disappeared. Gone were his predictable pantoufles. He wore white, canvas tennis shoes, his puffy heels hanging out the back. His face remained expressionless, though his lips sunk a bit at each end. His hair was combed, parted. And just like the garbage collector's shoes, the village was pristine the night they carried Agnès's and Jean-Pierre's mother away.

The trash man may never understand the beautiful bank teller's humor, but Life's comedy is something he knows: as with the never-ending reach of litter, the trick is to keep moving, to keep after it. Life, that is.

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Feedback and corrections are always welcome, appreciated, and helpful! Thank you for responding to my story in the comments box.

Not sure how to respond to today's story? Maybe you'd rather answer this light-hearted question, instead: Do you, like Agnès, do housework in your underwear? Answers, here.

French Vocabulary

le personnage = character
la pantoufle = house slippers
la poubelle = garbage can
le Crédit Agricole = the "largest retail banking group in France"
la guichetière = the bank teller
vingt euros = twenty euros
le comptoir = counter
le nid d'oiseau = bird's nest
déséquilibré = unbalanced
le drap blanc = white sheet

 

More about today's French word pantoufle...

un(e) pantouflard(e) = a homebody

The verb "pantoufler" means to leave a government job to work for a private corporation (speaking of a civil servant).

Expressions:
passer sa vie dans ses pantoufles = to live a secluded life
raisonner comme une pantoufle = (to reason like a slipper) to reason foolishly

And a charming old expression (sadly, not used anymore): "Et caetera pantoufle" or "Etc. pantoufle" used to end an enumeration. "In our refrigerator we have milk, eggs, butter, sour cream, etc. pantoufle."

 

Shopping: two books  
 1. French dictionary:  Acclaimed by language professionals the world over, the Oxford-Hachette Dictionary has long been the market leader.  
 2. Barron's How to Prepare for the AP French Advanced Placement Examination

 

 

Citation du Jour:
Il y a de grands voyages qu'on ne fait bien qu'en pantoufles.
There are great journeys that are best traveled in slippers.
--Jean Sarment

Audio File by Jean-Marc: listen to the French word pantoufle and the example sentence, above: Download "Pantoufle" Wav File . Download Pantoufle MP3 file

In Books & Music:
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...

 

More characters on the way, in the Wednesday and Friday editions! Meantime, don't miss some of my favorite personnages in my book: Words in a French Life. You'll meet "Madame Richard," "La Petite Souris", and one persnickety priest ... among many other French characters. And if you already have a copy of "Words", why not buy another copy for a friend? You might just ignite the love of French life in another, and there's no telling where this language adventure will take them. I still can't believe where it has taken me!

Three Random Words:
desseller = to unsaddle
empoté,e = awkward, maladroit, clumsy
fâcher = to make angry, to vex

le rosier

Please excuse this extra email in your inbox this morning... I hope this photo of a ravishing "roseburst" (taken yesterday, just outside the orthodontist's office in the French town of Orange...) will make up for that!

le rosier (leuh rhoh-zee-ay) noun, masculine

    : rose bush, rose tree

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Missing a little French in your weekend? I've just posted another 15 photos over at Cinéma Vérité... You'll also find two videos and several photo galleries when you sign up to become a contributing member of this French word journal.

If you love French Word-A-Day, and look forward to the words and stories each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, then you might enjoy the perks of a contributing membership! Click here to begin, and enjoy a little armchair travel each weekend!

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Note: Already a Cinéma Vérité member? To access the photos, please use the link that I sent you (in an email with the subject line "Merci beaucoup!").

Three Random Words:
une falaise (f) = cliff
gamberger = to think hard
l'heur (m) = good fortune

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