Bonjour from France!
Since this is the very first time I've written since in France I will write a quick update and then do what I was going too.
Me = good, My family in France = wicked sweet, My French = trying, My Friends in France = pretty cool, My classes = wicked amazing (Painting outside, drawing outside, history about architecture in France, and French), Food = totally great (love the baguettes and the deserts), Winter Break & Birthday = awesome (went to London) that about sums it up, I think
Now for the reason I am updating. I wrote this one night last week about the lovely French and giving you the liberty to read it. Here it is... enjoy
Written 17.3.06 (in American that is 3/17/06)
"The movement of the French Brain"
So, from May until the 2nd week in March I received no inkling of existence from the French male population except for the occasional glance, but for some reason this last week I have had at least 15 French men say “Tu est belle” or “Mademoiselle” or “Very nice” (in English) or “tres belle. Cava?” (This one was from a young man sticking his head out of a car window while driving in the opposite direction) and several other mutterings inclining beauty or just wanting me to talk to them so they can unlock the treasure between my legs with the universal male key. But whatever it is, this fever has hit practically every male in Aix-en-Provence. I’ve even heard mutterings from an old man passing me which seems very innocent but who knows. I say mutterings because of the fact that I was caught off guard and wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying but even if I had been I’m not sure I would have fully understood it or would have wanted too. So here is my synopsis of the situation, I think during the winter months men tend to think with there brains more because I heard no utterings in passing them except from beggars wanting change. When spring hits, however, it’s as if a massive sledge hammer hit all French men in the head which in turn shoved there brain through there throat and then worked it’s way through the intestinal track miraculously ending up in their third leg. I was shocked when I was first confronted with this abruptness and now I find it very amusing and mildly flattering. Only mildly flattering, however, because there seems to be desperation in the way the French men go about talking to you and seemingly to want so badly to be best friends while you and he frolic in the fields together and de-flowering these fields through each skip. An example of their desperation is best described through the following story which happened to a friend of mine.
My friend was walking home from town and this car stopped on the other side of a fence she was passing. A man yelled out the window “Mademoiselle!” with desperation in his voice, so naturally she, thinking he was getting out to help someone or needed help himself, stopped and asked him if he needed help or rather what was wrong. He then got out of the car and ran over asking her if she spoke English in English and she said yes but I also speak some French. He then asked her if she wanted to go to a café with him and get a drink and she said that she needs to get home. He then attempted to climb the fence and passed her his phone number telling her that they should go out for coffee sometime while she was casually backing away. She calculated his age to be about 35 which means maybe he’s afraid of never getting laid again. If there ends up being more stories of this nature I will be sure to write them down.
The End
P.S. I miss everyone like crazy and hope to see you all soon! keep keepin' on!
Me = good, My family in France = wicked sweet, My French = trying, My Friends in France = pretty cool, My classes = wicked amazing (Painting outside, drawing outside, history about architecture in France, and French), Food = totally great (love the baguettes and the deserts), Winter Break & Birthday = awesome (went to London) that about sums it up, I think
Now for the reason I am updating. I wrote this one night last week about the lovely French and giving you the liberty to read it. Here it is... enjoy
Written 17.3.06 (in American that is 3/17/06)
"The movement of the French Brain"
So, from May until the 2nd week in March I received no inkling of existence from the French male population except for the occasional glance, but for some reason this last week I have had at least 15 French men say “Tu est belle” or “Mademoiselle” or “Very nice” (in English) or “tres belle. Cava?” (This one was from a young man sticking his head out of a car window while driving in the opposite direction) and several other mutterings inclining beauty or just wanting me to talk to them so they can unlock the treasure between my legs with the universal male key. But whatever it is, this fever has hit practically every male in Aix-en-Provence. I’ve even heard mutterings from an old man passing me which seems very innocent but who knows. I say mutterings because of the fact that I was caught off guard and wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying but even if I had been I’m not sure I would have fully understood it or would have wanted too. So here is my synopsis of the situation, I think during the winter months men tend to think with there brains more because I heard no utterings in passing them except from beggars wanting change. When spring hits, however, it’s as if a massive sledge hammer hit all French men in the head which in turn shoved there brain through there throat and then worked it’s way through the intestinal track miraculously ending up in their third leg. I was shocked when I was first confronted with this abruptness and now I find it very amusing and mildly flattering. Only mildly flattering, however, because there seems to be desperation in the way the French men go about talking to you and seemingly to want so badly to be best friends while you and he frolic in the fields together and de-flowering these fields through each skip. An example of their desperation is best described through the following story which happened to a friend of mine.
My friend was walking home from town and this car stopped on the other side of a fence she was passing. A man yelled out the window “Mademoiselle!” with desperation in his voice, so naturally she, thinking he was getting out to help someone or needed help himself, stopped and asked him if he needed help or rather what was wrong. He then got out of the car and ran over asking her if she spoke English in English and she said yes but I also speak some French. He then asked her if she wanted to go to a café with him and get a drink and she said that she needs to get home. He then attempted to climb the fence and passed her his phone number telling her that they should go out for coffee sometime while she was casually backing away. She calculated his age to be about 35 which means maybe he’s afraid of never getting laid again. If there ends up being more stories of this nature I will be sure to write them down.
The End
P.S. I miss everyone like crazy and hope to see you all soon! keep keepin' on!