My Hanukkah socks are worn-in and the Christmas lights are gone. Thus begins the home stretch to May flowers and bike rides.
I learned a great French idiom for “home stretch” the other day: Champs Elysées. After a run (un footing, as say zee French), a man in my running club exclaimed, “Bah, dis donc! ["Well, I do declare!"] I really pushed it out there on the Champs Elysées!" Wanting to be part of the conversation, I asked when had he run on the Champs-Elysées? A marathon, maybe, or a triathalon?
Nothing like it. He meant the last half mile of our footing. I laughed loudly and heartily to show I had accepted my mistake in good spirits. Then I quickly stored it away in my brain's Department of Idiomatic Expressions.
I’m starting 2011 with a powerful tool on my belt: Le Grand Livre des Expressions (The Big Book of Expressions). This little Tree of Knowledge contains the origins of a couple hundred French expressions, along with their proper usages. My plan is to speak only in idioms by the end of April.
What exactly is the difference between an expression and and an idiom? was the question your humble narrator posed. To save you a few clicks, an idiom is an expression with a figurative meaning. In other words, it needs a native speaker's translation and explanation.
French is rampant with wonderful idiomatic expressions. One of my favorites is avoir un coeur d’artichaut – to have the heart of an artichoke, meaning to fall in love easily. The idea is that there are lots of leaves surrounding your heart and you give each one to a different person. Who doesn't like artichoke hearts? They're delicious. Motion to start saying it in English; all in favor say “artichoke.”
Language is sneaky, the way it swirls around without minding country borders or cultural boundaries. The winter vacation had my mind swirling.
I’d been thinking in French since the beginning of October and then BAM, just as Santa C. was making his last-minute deliveries, my family arrived on a plane in Amsterdam. We spent a weekend speaking English with a Dutch family (polyglots, the lot of them), traveled through Germany with Dad and Nathan speaking German and us ladies using English (without going hungry), then came back to France and spoke “American” (to-may-do) with an English family (to-mah-to).
One night we had dinner with Annie and Yves (remember them?), who don’t speak a word of English. Yet with my translation, Dad’s probing questions, and Yves happily shouting philosophe (philosopher)! at Nathan and infirmière (nurse)! at Thea, the conversation never dulled.
Upon returning to Roanne, Thea and Nathan came to my classes to get a taste of the exchanges I have with the students. One of them asked, What do you think of Obama? Nathan answered (call him for details) and then asked what the students thought of Sarkozy. One response: “Ee yeez a small sheet.” (read it out loud)
Little shit, small shit. Tomato, tomahto.
A few days after the Emmons Clan’s departure, I received another American visitor, Mr. Sandler of St. Louis fame. We spent a weekend in Lyon with Myriam (French), Vincent (French), Benjamin (French), Wu-Gui (Taiwanese), and Monsieur le Miew (Felis catus) and played a rousing game of Salad Bowl, a brilliant mélange of Taboo and Charades. We played in English – our lowest common denominator language, since Mr. Sandler’s Spanish only took him so far in French. He later commented, and I nodded my agreement, that it felt odd to have the upper hand in a foreign country. (Although, the others speak English and mime like pros. For a taste of our linguistic salad, try miming “ruthless crab.”)
Isn’t feeling lost and helpless part of traveling in a foreign country? I remember the first sentence we learned in Madame Berk’s French class: Au secours, je suis perdu(e)! Help, I’m lost! But the scary/comforting/sad/wonderful truth is – cue the movie music – you’re not lost if you speak English.
After our family’s winter travels and hosting non-French speakers in France, it has become that much clearer to me that English is everywhere. China may be on the verge of world domination, but English has become the Esperanto of the 21st century.
Fact (according to two Australians on a German train): It’s completely feasible to travel around Europe, and much of the world, speaking only English. Sure, our language has its roots in French, German, Latin, and Dutch (one word: apartheid). But who today speaks French, German, or Dutch, outside a few European countries, French islands, and former French colonies? A handful of eager-beaver high school and university students, that's who. And the French tourists in New York.
Qu’est-ce que ca veut dire?? What does it mean??
Well, for starters,
1) English speakers will probably not lose our reputation for being nul with foreign languages
2) the French, who share this reputation, should really reconsider dubbing all English films and TV shows
3) English is taking over the world!!
4) I am an obedient cog in the Wheel of Anglophone World Takeover. And I'm ok with that.
As with all gourmet food for thought, I'm still chewing on this language question. For now I'll
1) continue preparing my lessons about Obama
2) accept that the Dutch are linguistic geniuses thanks to natural selection – their survival depends upon it
3) continue registering French idioms until I can string them together into sophisticated paragraphs
4) start saying tomahto.
My artichoke heart beats with anticipation.
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