Read My Lips

You can't spell it "Favre" and pronounce it "Farve". It's just wrong.

As In, Dirty Little

I think it's time for a new insult.

Those who know me (which, I guess, is a pretty substantial portion of people who read this) know that I'm not much of a science fiction guy. I liked Lord of the Rings (and before someone with a "Live Long & Prosper" tee shirt tells me that's not science fiction, I know... I just have a tendency to group all things where people dress in costumes to see the movie into one super-category), but that's about as far as it goes.

Still, I've had an idea for a long time, and to celebrate the release of the new X-Files movie, I think it's time to bring it up again.

Scullymulder, as in, "why, you dirty little scullymulder!"

The problem, I guess, is that I've never actually invented an insult before. Honestly, I try not to make insults a very regular part of my speech. But this one, I think, could be different. I plan to try it out at work tomorrow to see how it goes over in French - I've been practicing the accent tonight, and I think it's almost ready.

So, feel free to propagate. And if you're Katie, I expect a link back to the source...

;-)

The Problem Is

... as far as I can tell, that "tres" is one of the worst words in French. It's phlegmy... sounds kind of like someone coughing up something nasty. And the unfortunate part is that it's also one of the most common.

And, as I watch the Euro Cup final, I realize that they are incapable of only saying it once. Nothing is "tres" whatever; it's always "tres, tres" whatever. Double the phlegm: gotta love that. And, while in English we have a whole range of words used to denote emphasis (very, extremely, notably, markedly, really, unbelievably, undoubtedly...), the French either only have one, or they don't let sportscasters use the other ones on-air. In fact, I've heard "tres" five times while writing the previous sentence.

The other problem is that Spain is winning. When the passed through the semi-finals, they drove around town (or, at least, my block) honking for 4 hours. Tonight... no one sleeps.

[EDIT] - Well, it's over. There were 11 second between when the game ended and when I heard the first horn. That's got to take some serious planning.

I Should Have Used Butter While Getting My Hair Cut

Turns out that olive oil and Brussels sprouts is a bad combination. Unbelievably bad, really. I thought it would be a bit healthier than butter and give the flavor a little boost, but it was just wrong.



Time for some audience participation, and maybe the chance for me to avoid another hideous kitchen incident like this. Have you ever tried something that really seemed like it should work, but really didn't?



In other news, I officially love getting my hair cut. Okay, every once in a while it doesn't quite work out, but I'm usually happy with how it looks after. And I think I could spend a good portion of my day just getting it washed. It puts me in such a good mood, I even talked to the girl cutting it today.

That may not sound strange, but my conversational French is... well, enough to stop most conversations. And I haven't found many of the girls at the place I go who speak English. So, I usually just kind of keep quiet, say "oui, c'est bon" when they look hopeful and ask me something, and "non, je ne pense pas" when they look doubtful and ask me something. It usually pans out okay.

So while I was getting my hair washed today, the girl asked me something I didn't understand. Plus, I was facing away from her, so I couldn't tell which response to use. Time to 'fess up.

"Desolé," I said, "j'ai pas compris; je ne parle pas tres bien français". And that's a pretty hefty understatement, even for me.

She seemed okay with that, and things continued without me either getting scalded, dyed crazy-German-lady red (a very special color not found anywhere in nature, but which, it seems, goes very well with cropped hair, glasses with a string hanging from them, and dangly earrings), or shaved bald. Hooray! That's my entire hair-cutting check-list. Mission accomplished. Almost.

"Qu'est ce que votre langue maternelle?" she asked.

"Anglais" I said. I figured that about explained it. She shrugged, and continued.

Turns out she didn't figure her French was very good either. She was Spanish, and also spoke Portuguese (she had lived for a while in Brazil, and maybe Portugal... I mean maybe I'm-not-sure, not maybe she-didn't-know).

Why is it that no one takes me seriously when I say my French is bad? My colleagues are under the amusing (and somewhat dangerous) impression that I understand everything they say, no matter what I tell them. And when things go horribly wrong - as they are bound to do when you combine banks, software, lunch and a language I don't speak - they seem to believe I'm just playing a joke on them.

"Don't worry," they tell new people who are just meeting me. "He understands everything."

"No," I say, "I actually don't. I didn't even understand your name."

And then they all laugh. It's really fun.

Anyways, she went on (in French) to tell me about, I think, much of the last 10 years or so of her life, what it was like to live in Brazil, what the pronunciation differences are between Spanish and Portuguese (hello! I'm the one who's still stuck on French, remember? I need two more languages in the mix like I need a bigger forehead), and how English people never learn French. Even the ones who live here. Not much I can come back with on that front, is there? I just agreed.

Except when she looked concerned.

In any case, it was a pretty good cut, and she was kind enough to rinse it after, which keeps me from feeling itchy (or looking really, really bad in my black shirt - and not the kind of bad that means "cool", either, just the way your grandparents mean it).

I think I'll go back. I just need to learn to say "what kinds of snacks do they have in Brazil, and do you have any with you?" first.

How Much Information?

It can be a tricky balance.

One of the things I love about living in Europe is the fact that the waiters don't expect to be my friend. In fact, from the way many of them treat me, it's clear that they generally prefer a relationship leaning more towards the antagonistic. But there's none of this, "Hi, I'm Steve, and I'll be your waiter tonight, and I'll make all kinds of little jokes while you're watching your food get cold and probably say something a little later to make your date really uncomfortable and maybe after we can go get a milkshake together?"

I want Steve to find out what I want to eat, to bring it, to check with me once after if it's okay, and then to leave me alone until I make eye contact with him. Otherwise, I'd ask him out for dinner.

But I've had a strange situation I've encountered twice in the last while that has led me to wonder if maybe language and culture play a bigger part in this than I had realized.

In both cases, I was asking for something that was needed pretty quickly (a steak from room service, in one instance, and if that doesn't carry with it an innate urgency, I don't know what does). And in both cases, I was told, "sorry, that's not available at the moment".

And both times, my initial reaction was, "oh, okay".

I'm glad I followed up though. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "That's okay... you can just bring it up when it's ready, then. What do you think - 20 minutes? Half an hour?"
Hotel Guy: "No, I'm sorry, but it won't be available tonight."
Me: "No problem, I'm here again tomorrow. I'll call back then."
Hotel Guy: "Okay, thank you very much."
silence
Me: "I say that because the steak WILL be available tomorrow, right?"
Hotel Guy: "No sir, it won't be available tomorrow night."
Me [with remarkable composure]: "Okay, let's try this another way. Instead of me calling you every time I get hungry, how about you tell me when the steak will be available, and I'll get back to you then?"
Hotel Guy: "We won't be doing any hot food for the next two months, sir."
Me: "Okay... I'm marking it in my calendar right now... two... months... and I'll talk to you then."

Now, for me, "not available for the moment" (the phrase used in both cases) indicates that at a later (but not too distant) moment, it will be available. It doesn't make me think in terms of days, or weeks, or months.

For those of you who know things like this, is this a direct translation from Italian or French that just loses something in the process? Or am I just hungry enough that it's making me crazy?

Where Have You Been All My Life?

I've compiled some of the searches that have led people here. I'm not sure which is more surprising... what people are searching for, or that Google decided to send them my way...

Yellow Couch (google.com) - okay, this one is less of a surprise on the second point.

Natterhorn Blog (Windows Live) - oddly enough, my page is the only result. Nat's actual blog is not listed in the search results. *scratches head*

"grafitti lugano" (google.ch) - I could be wrong, but I'm guessing this is not going to show up in the top 100 searches any time soon. Once again, my page is the only one that Google has to offer if that's what you're looking for.

Creme brulee temper eggs (google.nl) - someone looking for a fight and some dessert at the same time. And, really - who can blame them?

movie monestary sound february (google.com) - if you run this again, my blog doesn't even come up any more. The "February" part is pretty interesting, though.

"Darryl Delamont" (google.ch) - surprise: it's me.

ugly in cradle pretty to table saying (google.com) - this is another, "how many people could be looking for that?" kind of search. And the answer seems to be, at least one.

yellow country kitchen couch (google.com) - I can't help but think my page was really not what they were looking for.

otrivin in my eyes (google.com) - two words: ouch.

Not A Good Idea

One more sleep and I'm sure he would have realized. *sigh*

Taken with my phone, on the highway.