Author Archives: Ruth
i forgot to give this post a title
Remember how Jordan described her language exchange experience as akin to online dating? Well…
I was cleaning out my email inbox, which is full of unread messages I’ve received from people who found me on conversationexchange.com, the site that connects people who want to learn the other’s language. I’ve been ignoring the message notifications for awhile now, since I’m happy with my current situation Skyping once a week with Philippe. I don’t have the time or inclination to do it more often than that, and we always have stuff to talk about, so there’s no point being in touch with other people.
I was curious, though, about who had contacted me. I didn’t want to delete the message notifications without first reading their actual messages, so I logged in to Conversation Exchange for the first time in months.
I worked my way backwards through my inbox, reading everyone’s message and then looking at their profile. I was happy to confirm that I wasn’t missing out on anything. When I got near the bottom I saw my initial emails with Philippe. I re-read them and looked at his profile, wondering whether the way he presented himself would align with my current impression of him. I was amused to see that his profile picture is of a very fat angry-looking cat that he has never once mentioned.
I was less amused to notice that his last log-in date was that very day. Despite acknowledging my own ridiculousness, I felt slightly wounded. Philippe is Skyping with other people? How does he find the time? What does he talk to them about? Are they better at French than me? Do they know about his pissed-off cat?
It had crossed my mind before then that Philippe might have more than one conversation partner since he speaks much better English than I speak French. He’s got to be practicing a whole lot more than me. But seeing such open evidence of his philandering took me aback.
Not being completely removed from reality, I quickly recovered and reasoned that if I’m not fully satisfying Philippe (linguistically!), it’s perfectly fine for him to look elsewhere to meet his needs. I’m OK with polyamory in this particular relationship. Especially because if we’re going to take the dating analogy to its logical extreme, I basically attend swingers orgies every Monday night.
(Photo of a cat that resembles but is definitely not Philippe’s actual cat: Craig / Tjflex2)
have a good weekend!
People! It’s the weekend. (Yet I’m still at work. But leaving soon!)
This week was my best ever for French conversation – I am practically thinking in French by now. On Sunday I Skyped with Philippe. On Monday I went to the French conversation Meetup and talked to a guy from Togo for like two hours about all things West African. Yesterday at Clovis’ art opening (which I will write about later) the cinematographer for Thomas’ documentary was filming and he spoke about ten words of English so I talked to him in French for an hour. And then today I Skyped with Philippe again before running the Central Park loop for National Run at Work Day. Which is why I’m now working late…
But I’m minutes away from leaving and I’m so excited about this weekend. On Saturday I will show up at a doll hospital that has already told me they’re not interested in me doing a short film about them. I will show up with my beloved doll Cindy, who is now in six parts held together by a little hooded onesie my mother sewed to keep her arms, legs and head quasi-intact. I will see what they can do for Cindy and in the process hope to charm them into letting me make the film.
On Sunday I will join the People’s Climate March. I was torn about which section to walk in. I really wanted to be with the anti-corporate people, where my allegiance lies. But they are in the only really blamey, negative section of the march; the others are all hopeful and solutions-based and I think I want to spend my day surrounded by positivity. Plus I will be wearing enough branded apparel that I’ll feel a little silly being all anti-capitalist with evidence of hypocrisy all over my body.
What does this have to do with French or Spanish or Hebrew? Well, apparently there are concurrent events all around the world. Plus an environmental apocalypse would wipe all humans and thus all languages off the face of the earth. So there’s that tenuous link, if you need one.
Allons-y! Le week-end commence maintenant!
youssou
Over the weekend I saw Youssou N’Dour perform in Brooklyn. I don’t say this lightly: it was transportive. The music is so overwhelmingly life-affirming, and I’m chomping at the bit to go to Senegal. So I spent the entire show alternately blissing out in the moment and imagining myself living in Dakar in the near future, making a weekend routine of going out to dance to West African music.
The band kept announcing him as the “minister of the people” but I would more aptly call N’Dour the minister of tourism because within minutes of his arrival onstage I was ready to pack up and go.* Lo and behold, I just looked up his discography and he is indeed Senegal’s minister of tourism and culture as of 2012! That is both hilarious and entirely appropriate.
Sometimes I think I’m going to wimp out on my language sabbatical but then a night like Saturday’s reminds me of how much fun I will have and eradicates the fear. In fact, I spent a good part of the show wallowing in fantasy-land “logistics” planning: I’d move to Senegal next November and spend the winter months learning French eight hours a day, then visit every country in West Africa after becoming proficient, next head south to Zimbabwe and South Africa just because, then cut back up to Rwanda, then turn east into Tanzania and Kenya, and finally somehow end up in the south of France in time for summer. Oh, and there’d also magically be time and money for Mozambique and Madagascar. And then I’d move to South America for Spanish immersion.
It’s good to dream… And eventually, when the time is ripe, I will become a bit more realistic about my dreams and turn them into reality. (With God as my witness.)
* pending Ebola neutralization
I leave you with a clip from the show, taken by someone with a much better seat than mine!
why learn Spanish, part 2
Because Isabel Allende’s “Eva Luna” must be even more beautiful in its original language.
I’m reading it in English now on the recommendation of several people who told me that if I love Gabriel Garcia Marquez I’ll love her, too. They were right. I’m halfway through and absorbed in the story in a way I haven’t been since grade school. I read it every day on the subway to and from work and am amazed when I find myself at my destination seemingly without commuting.
On Monday I skipped French conversation to go to a filmmakers’ gathering at a bar instead. When the bartender saw me carrying “Eva Luna” she broke into the hugest smile and just gushed and gushed about how much she loves Allende and how halfway through “The House of the Spirits” (which I’m planning to read next) she put the book down because she never wanted it to end.
Can you imagine if something is that powerful in translation what it must be like in the original?
One day! One day I will know, because I WILL learn enough Spanish to at least take a clumsy stab at it. Con Dios como mi testigo. I should learn that phrase in every language, I seem to use it far more here than, “Where are the toilets?”
the slow decline
I don’t know why I’m so discouraged. I have been going to French conversation Meetups every Monday, and this past Monday I even Skyped with Philippe from home and then immediately hopped on a train to talk French some more and then caught myself talking to myself in French on the way home.
But I originally committed to a half hour a day of French and a half hour of Spanish, and I have now all but abandoned Spanish and reduced French to conversation alone. I’m afraid all the progress I made through the hundreds of hours of work I put in at the outset are going to disappear.
So, I need a new plan. I am thinking about signing up for a Spanish class, maybe through Fluent City. I also think my company may have renewed its Rosetta Stone license in which case I can try to do a Spanish course that way. I’ll try to watch one episode of Destinos every weekend because I do wonder whatever happened to Raquel and whatshisface (sure sign it’s been too long). Oh yeah, Arturo! I wonder what happened with Raquel & Arturo’s overwrought romance.
And maybe I will start reading French books as a way to jog my memory about verb forms and vocab I keep forgetting. I need to bug Thomas for one of his novels. Thomas, if you’re reading… bring on the books!
I guess I was overambitious and need to lower my expectations for myself. There have been other things I’ve become interested in doing that I wouldn’t have time for if I kept up the hour-a-day routine. It’s not because I’m lazy, it’s because I lead such a jam-packed, engaging life. Yeah, that’s what I’ll tell myself…
(Photo: Kristina Alexanderson)
the best of words, the worst of words: beauté and fourchette
Following hot on the heels of Tuesday’s best and worst words, chosen for their signification, here are a best word and worst word chosen solely for their sounds.
Clovis is an artist with a studio in Bushwick who paints monochromatic extreme close ups of people’s faces. I wish I had one to post here but alas it didn’t occur to me to ask. Take my word for it, though, they are really wonderful.
His favorite word, beauté (beauty), seemed a bit of an obvious choice until he explained why. It’s not the meaning of the word that he likes but the sound. “Parce que le mot est rond.” (“Because the word is round.”) Which is to say, he loves the word beauté for the word’s beauty. Clovis insisted that even if beauté actually meant something terrible like decrepitude or diarrhea (my examples, not his), he’d still love it.
Clovis’ least favorite word seems hilariously random to me, especially when paired with beauté. But Clovis just does not like the sound of fourchette (fork). He said in French, “It’s not the meaning at all. A fork is very useful, but the word is like whiplash (un coup de fouet).”
I see what he means – the four takes its time rolling off the tongue and then the ette erupts out at the end. It’s jarring.
But I have to admit I like it – along with assiette (plate) and serviette (napkin). Why all the dinnerwear ending with ette?
In any case… Clovis – whose work is all about color – told me that he thinks of words in terms of color as well. Synesthesia, I love it! “Some are hot colors and some are cold colors, and some I prefer more than others.” Since Clovis said beauté was hot and fourchette was cold, I guess he likes a warm palette (another ette word I love).
Informal poll: fourchette, love it or hate it?
the best of words, the worst of words: lumière and obscurité
This past weekend I had the pleasure of going to my former downstairs neighbor’s cocktail party in my old building, three blocks away from my new one. In addition to being fascinating and fabulous herself, Francesca has a set of fascinating and fabulous friends, two of whom are French. And thus, another edition of “best words, worst words” comes your way…
Thomas is a novelist whose work I am excited to dive into. He assured me that I would be able to read it in the original French. He is also about to shoot a documentary about Bushwick artists, including Clovis, who will be featured in the next installment of best words, worst words.
I was surprised at the ease with which Thomas chose his superlative words. No deliberation at all; they came right to him.
His favorite: lumière (light). Why? Because light signifies “knowledge, God, beauty. It’s the opposite of obscurity.”
And his least favorite?
Logically, obscurité (darkness, obscurity). Thomas believes that people cannot stand to live in obscurity – that they crave to be in the light, to be seen and known. Yet he also believes that people can’t live entirely in the light – that they need a small amount of obscurity to exist.
I don’t usually think of light and darkness as aspects of the human condition, but leave it to a writer to bring the poetry. Or leave it to the French language, I suppose. Until I noticed that obscurité translates to both darkness and obscurity, I hadn’t really linked the two. Darkness had always seemed physical and obscurity existential, but I suppose there is a lot of crossover – darkness can be existential and obscurity can be physical. I love these moments of lexical epiphany!
happy weekend
Last night I went to see Agnes Obel play Bowery Ballroom. She’s a Danish singer-songwriter whose lyrics are in English but to whom I was introduced by Philippe, my parler pal de Paris. So she feels appropriate to talk about on this blog even though technically she is irrelevant.
Anyway… It’s almost the weekend! And I need it, because two weekends ago was taken up entirely by moving and attending an editing workshop, and last weekend I spent one day in Vermont – and two days traveling to and from Vermont. Now I really want to just sit around doing nothing all day. And maybe catch up on anki and duolingo, which can feel nicely meditative and almost like doing nothing.
But – my plans to be lazy were foiled by my 2 1/2 year old niece in New Jersey, who wouldn’t give up the phone to my brother until he said he wanted to talk to me about when I was going to visit. That prompted her to ask me in her squeaky little voice, “Can you come visit me?” Which melted my heart and all my resolve to sit on my butt for two days in a row. I practically promised to come live with her if she would have me.
So, here’s to not being lazy after all, in the name of adorableness and adoration.
And here’s some Agnes Obel to start your weekend:
(Photo: Agnes Obel)
fascinating mapinating
There are only seven states whose most common language other than English is not Spanish. But when you take español out of the mix, things get a lot more interesting. And surprising, at least for me – I would have thought Chinese would show up more often, and German and French less.
See the Slate article this map comes from for more maps, of the most commonly spoken Native American, Scandinavian, Indo-Aryan and African languages state by state. America is truly a polyglot paradise, so much richer for all the languages we speak. (And by ‘we’ I refer to us collectively, since we all know that I’m the sad sack who only really speaks English.)















