So, pretty much anyone that knows me knows that I’d like to be French.No, not to just speak the language. I have this strange, strong desire to just be French.
Stereotypical, beret-wearing, cheese-and-bread eating, wrought-iron-railing-having French.
In conversation the other day I mentioned how much easier it would be if I could just have some kind of operation. Like the way small-boobed people might choose to have. It would make being French a whole lot easier. Clearly this is impossible, but I’m getting there.
Being almost fluent now, or at least a practicing almost-fluent person (aka I take a French course in school) I am a bit more almost-fluent than I used to be. I just need to master the art of not looking quizzical every time someone says something other than “Bonjour, comment ca va?” and going “umm….” every time I need to say an absent-from-my-vocabulary word like “Residence” (turns out it’s just résidence, of course) or at least every time I need to say an in-my-vocabulary-but-just-not-right-at-the-moment word like “floor.” Zut alors.
Anyways, I watched Ingmar Bergman’s Persona today and am quite ashamed to say I didn’t get it. And that’s going to prove to be a difficult fact when I try to write a paper on it next week. Argh. BUT bonus, the film made we want to learn Swedish, a tiny bit. It’s like a pretty form of German that sounds a bit like French. Possibilities abound, I tell you.
Back to the being French topic. I’ve been listening to Ariane Moffat because we did a cultural journal (something for my classe de Francais) on her and her song “Montreal” is amazing, je pense. I’ve also been listening to the Bishop Allen song “Rain” and find it the best song ever for waking up in the morning – it has now replaced “You Make My Dreams” by Hall and Oates as such. Click the link and listen to it.
One more thing that anyone who wants to be French but is clearly English would probably like, or actually just anyone in the whole world really, is the story of The Sixth Borough by Jonathan Safran Foer (who wrote Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close – both absolutely amazing books) and should also click the link to read it in its entirety. It is beautiful.
What I’ve sort of taken from that story is that we each have a special sixth borough type of place, with our love sitting in an un-openable container, but we know that it’s there. I think my sixth borough was once Ottawa, but the hooks have dug into the ground around my bed and one of these nights, while I’m dreaming, I’ll get to float like children and find out where it’s moved to.
I guess I came to this revelation today, and it might be a bit abrupt but not really, I guess. For the past few weeks and maybe months I’ve have these nomadic longings, urges to host a big yard sale and get rid of all the way-too-many physical objects that I’m attached to. I want to throw all of the most important possessions into a backpack and see where that backpack wants to fly first. I’ve made my commitments for now, school and work and AOII and life in general, but come the end of April I really am going to roam, and I couldn’t be more excited.
P.S. one more way I have brought French activity into my life lately – rediscovering my love for cheese bagels, simply cheese melted on a bagel, but c’est le meilleur casse-croute EVER.