Some French vocabulary

Even though I'm totally a local by now, getting used to a new city can be hard sometimes. There are certain things you have to keep in your tête at all times to avoid having people tell you the cost of your lunch in English, you know? So instead of a real post, here are some daily things I encounter and think about (choses quotidiennes).

amis/amies – friends! I have friends! And they’re awesome. I like them and they seem to like me so yay friends!!!

baguette – It’s everywhere. My host family has at least one full baguette out on the table at every meal, and then there’s this neat magic trick where the bread is almost all gone by the end. You think you’ve eaten enough, and you think you’re full, but then the cheese comes out and you need something to eat it with and the baguette is right there and let me tell you it is a lost cause.

cigale – cicada. They’re the symbol of Provence. Le chant des cigales is a sign of summer in Provence, because they rub their wings together to cool off in the heat. I always thought it was a mating ritual, like lightning bugs, but I guess not.

devoirs – homework. It’s real. Archaeology class, I'm looking at you.

fumer – to smoke. Everyone does it here! It was especially bad at the fête de la musique, since it was so crowded. So smelly...

glace – ice cream. Yum! The ice cream here is more like what we would consider gelato: more concentrated, and in a lot of specialty flavors. No Superman or birthday cake here, but they have every kind of fruit imaginable.

Katreen – me! This is how my host mom spells my name when she texts me and I think it’s cute.

marcher – to walk. According to Google Maps, I live a solid 1.2 miles from school. (For comparison, from my apartment in Lex to the quad is about half a mile. And THAT seems like it takes forever!)  It is literally uphill both ways, although the way back home has a bigger hill. On Sunday, I looked up a new way to go that seemed more direct, and was supposed to be four minutes shorter. It took me right up the side of a mountain. Not faster. I didn’t get lost, though, and walking over two miles a day has to be healthy. Right?

Gratuitous picture of Cassis to make this post prettier

pompiers – firefighters. They’re also everywhere, which is a little concerning. I think there are a lot of fires this time of year because it’s so dry and the wind is so strong. The siren is a lot different: it just goes up down, up down, but it changes based on where you are. When it comes toward you, it is in a completely different key than when it goes past you and is behind you. I tried to look it up online but I mostly found videos of fire trucks, which is cool? Swarsco would be able to explain this phenomenon, but I cannot.

portable – cell phone. Using a cell phone overseas is necessary but confusing. I converted my regular phone to international, even though I hope to never need to use it, and bought a simple pay-as-you-go phone here. I ran out of money on Saturday night and had to add more, which entailed going to several tabacs (like convenience stores) until I found one which sold my network, and buying a 10-euro calling card, and navigating a phone menu all by myself which was all in French. You could not press 2 for English. Oh you could not. But I did it! That’s something right?

sourire – to smile. Don’t do it. Apparently when you smile at someone it is an invitation to be more than friends. France and the W&L speaking tradition do not get along, and it’s really hard to break the habit of being nice to random strangers. Well, you’re still supposed to say Bonjour when you go into a store, even if it’s only to check out the prices and the only employee is talking to other people. It’s complicated.

toilettes – toilets. Not the same as a bathroom, salle de bains, where you would find your bathtub and weird shower thing. It’s not a particularly obscure fact, but in France they hide their toilets in little closets. In fact, that’s what they’re called: water closets, or W.C. for short.

voitures – cars. They will run you down. In America, there’s a clear separation between street and sidewalk; in Aix, il n’y en a pas. There isn’t even always a logic behind which way to go in which lane, or how the little green cross-the-street symbol works. At least, I haven’t figured it out yet. Usually when I’m going to cross the street I just wait until someone who looks French starts walking first. And I’m no safer on the sidewalks. The difference between the troittoir and the rue is nonexistent; on my walk to school, cars park right on the sidewalk, forcing me to go into the street and into danger. If I don’t return from this trip, it’s because I got run over by a car. (And motorcycles and Vespas are even worse!)