This is the song that floored me at the first Youssou N’Dour concert that I went to in Dakar. The song and the voice are among the most beautiful I’ve ever heard.
Missing Senegal something awful after hearing this again today.
But… in relation to Senegal and many other things, I’m reminding myself of the wise words Cheryl Strayed shared in a recent “Dear Sugars” column in the New York Times:
“We have the strength to let go of even the things we treasure. Other treasures eventually replace them.”
Such a beautiful way to express something that is so hard to do.
I was hoping that the more time I spent in France, the more I’d love it. That hasn’t been the case, unfortunately. I’m still pretty meh (or, I should say, bof) about a lot of this country and especially Paris. But the one thing that has really grown on me is the French language. I have gone from feeling rather neutral about it, to fairly drowning in its beauty and sexiness. In fact, today I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office and a couple next to me was whispering together as they filled out their form. I knew that they had dropped their voices for the sake of privacy, but it still sounded like post-coital bedroom talk to me. That would never happen in English, obviously.
It reminded me of this video I recently watched of Marion Cotillard on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert:
The great personal irony is that no matter how proficient in French I become, I’ll never be able to reproduce its euphony. I will always sound terrible in a language that makes native speakers sound like angels. There is a consolation prize, however. The other day I mentioned the month of August (août), pronouncing it ah-oot. The guy I was talking to had no idea what I was saying, even in context. Eventually he realized I was talking about the month that is actually pronounced something like oot, and he blushed and giggled, “Oh, c’est trop mignon.” As in, “That’s so cute.” This has become something of a theme. The more I fail at French, the more I succeed with French men, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too unhappy about it.
P.S. I just got back from a half-work, half-pleasure trip to Spain, and a few weeks before that I finally checked out the south of France, which was just as beautiful as I anticipated it would be. I will get around to posting photos from those trips soon…
I gotback from the beautiful, sunny, warm South of France to wet, gray Paris a couple of days ago. Not surprising, but still deflating.
Yesterday, I was wandering around running errands in a dour mood, but I kept noticing charming things despite myself. So I started taking pictures and making a list of them. I posted it on Instagram and am now pasting it here because I realize I have not been writing as often as I’d like.
So… an inventory of delights encountered during a walk in Montmartre:
1. Joyfully screaming kids behind walls shielding a school playground. (At a certain hour of the afternoon you hear this on nearly every block.) The fact you can only imagine what they are getting up to makes it even cuter.
2. Pretty tilework taken to the level of art.
3. A cat hanging out in an antique store.
4. Hazelnuts in their full natural packaging. First time I’ve seen this and it’s beautiful.
5. As are french fruit displays.
6. As is vintage french lettering.
7. As is my tied-for-favorite cheese shop…
8. …from which i bought the most gorgeous and delicious goat cheese.
I gotback from the beautiful, sunny, warm South of France to wet, gray Paris a couple of days ago. Not surprising, but still deflating.
talk foreign to me 