Quelle distance aura-t-il parcourue pendant son existence ?
Mais, maintenant , tu vas m'accompagner ...
Une encyclopédie en dix volumes est rangée dans l'ordre sur une planche de bibliothèque. Chaque volume est épais de 4½ cm pour les feuilles et deux fois ¼cm pour la couverture. Un ver né en page 1 du volume 1 se nourrit en traversant perpendiculairement et en ligne droite la collection complète et meurt à meurt la dernière page du dixième volume. Quelle distance aura-t-il parcourue pendant son existence ? Mais, maintenant , tu vas m'accompagner ...
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We can always learn from the experience of others.... and here's one person's "journey" ( as we call it these days) ... that's the complete article just below, but further down I've made it readable by putting it in little chunks. Off we go then .... Gros morceau 1 ... â  ê Ê É î Î ô Ô û Û Ŵ ŵ Ŷ ŷ ç í á à â ä œ ç é è ê ë ç í ì î ï ó ò ô ö ù ø ú Ú û ü û Ï Gros morceau 2 ... .... sorry about the blurry bits ... "les morceaux violés ?" Gros morceau 3 ...en chemin ... .and now .... a song about morceaux ... I was looking for "New" French words ... all languages create new words, mostly to deal with new ideas or new inventions etc. BUT ... the sites I found required me to "do" "cookies" ( there's a new word for you) and I don't do them ....so after a bit more unsuccessful meandering around, I decided to look for "unusual French words" instead. And here's some ... 20 Weird French Words You Won’t Believe Exist........ Caoutchouc ( I knew this one ... but I didn't know where it came from) This rather extraordinary-looking word means “rubber,” as in the bendy substance we get from trees, and actually has a fairly straightforward history. Caoutchouc comes from the native South American language Quechua and its word kawchu. Indeed English is the “odd one out” when it comes to this word, because the German Kautschuk and the Spanish caucho have the same origins. You can take not just one new piece of vocabulary from this, but three, because the flexibility of the French language means that the verb caoutchouter equals “to coat with rubber” and the adjective caoutchoutifère equals “rubber-producing.” Now that descriptive word would normally apply to trees, but see if you can shoehorn it into another sentence! 2. Dépaysant Dépaysant, directly translated, means “un-country-ing.” A strange word, to say the least, but one that expresses a sentiment similar to homesickness. It’s the feeling you get when you’re in a new place and experiencing very new things that make you feel foreign, out of sorts and strange. Eating dinner at 9 p.m. in the south of France might be dépaysant, or giving new friends the bise (greeting them by kissing on the cheek). As strange as this may seem, dépaysant is actually usually used with a positive sense. Something dépaysant is almost other-wordly; going on vacation a bit outside of the city, you might find yourself face-to-face with a view of cliffs plunging into a majestic sea that would be very dépaysant indeed. 3. Métro-boulot-dodo I’m sorry this isn’t some new species of exotic bird, because that would be awesome. But this is pretty awesome, too: Métro refers to public transportation, boulot to the slang term for a job and dodo to baby talk for “sleep” (akin to “sleepytime” or “beddy-bye”). Smash it all together, though, and you have a French compound noun that sums up the existential quandary of adult life: commute-job-sleep. Now say it 10 times fast, pass out and wake up for work tomorrow. No time to read Camus, you’re all grown up! 4. Flâner ( I know this one as well) This Baudelarian term is perfectly suited to French culture. Flâner is to wander with no particular destination in mind, people watching, window shopping and basically existing as a city-dweller. To Baudelaire’s mind, this sort of wandering was perfectly suited to a city like Paris, and he wrote many of his prose poems about doing just this—wandering. It makes sense, then, that a flâneur (or flâneuse, for a woman), is someone who spends a good amount of time wandering about. 5. Yaourter Literally “to yogurt”—let’s pause for a moment and just savor that. Mm. All right, literally “to yogurt,” yaourter describes singing or speaking in a language one either doesn’t know very well or has decided to fake in whatever context they’re using it. Common usage refers to more of an imitation than a sincere attempt, like trying to fudge your way through a song you haven’t memorized the lyrics to, or speaking a “pretend” language by mimicking the accent and vocal mannerisms without using real words. Another way to describe this phenomenon is with the expression chanter en yaourt (to sing through yogurt). Either term is often used to refer to a native French speaker singing along with English words with which they’re not entirely familiar. I feel obligated, for the sake of all the French learners out there, to draw this out a little longer. Pay attention, this will be on the midterm. je yaourte (I yogurt) tu yaourtes (you yogurt) il/elle/on yaourte (he/she/one yogurts) nous yaourtons (we yogurt) vous yaourtez (you yogurt) ils/elles yaourtent (they yogurt) Okay, so I realize it shouldn’t be translated literally, but you have to admit, just seeing it is priceless. Now I expect you to study this verb, and work out the other tenses, too. Passé simple for bonus points! 6. Frappadingue This fantastic, hybrid word is great for telling someone just how crazy they really are. Frappadingue comes from two separate words that both point towards someone’s insanity. Frappé- is the first part and comes from the verb frapper (to hit), as in, “You’re so nuts you must have been hit on the head.” The second part, –dingue, means “crazy,” but could also be used on its own to emphasize how unbelievable or awesome something is (enough to drive you out of your mind). Put them both together and you’ve got someone who’s really off their rocker! 7. Loufoquerie To keep up with the theme, here’s a word for “craziness.” The French word loufoque originated from fou (standard French for “crazy”) in louchébem (a slang invented by French butchers in the 19th century). Yes, really. Louchébem involves moving the first consonant of a word to the end, tacking on a standard suffix and adding the letter “L” to the beginning. I’m not kidding. This is still used in the French meat industry today. I don’t know how these things are true, they just are. You can’t possibly hold me responsible for this loufoquerie! The best thing about loufoquerie is that you don’t even really have to learn it, because it means pretty much exactly what you’d think. 8. Hurluberlu The exact origins of this word are unknown, but it’s old enough to have been used in the 16th century by the French Renaissance writer François Rabelais. Rabelais was playful and creative with his word choice and highly influential on the French language. He was responsible for adding loan words to French from Greek and Latin, as well as making up some of his own, so it’s impossible to know from exactly whence hurluberlu was plucked. Hurluberlu can be used to describe an eccentric, scatterbrained person—like a crackpot or screwball. In other words, someone who might from time to time engage in some loufoquerie. If you think this describes you, rejoice in the knowledge that there’s a place in the French language for you! If you’re just confused, read on… 9. Tohu-bohu This is a loan word taken from the Hebrew tohu wa-bohu, which appears in the original text of the Bible in the Book of Genesis, referring to the formless state of the universe before God created light, water, animals, people, etc. So practically the same word that was used to describe the origins of time can now be used to describe what happens when two car alarms go off simultaneously in a parking lot between a senior bingo game and a folk concert: confusion, pandemonium. The French have a lot of great words to describe a general disturbance or chaos, including chahut, vacarme and raffut, but I think tohu-bohu takes the cake, don’t you? 10. Râler Ah, one of the preferred French past times. Râler describes a very particular way of complaining that has been all but perfected by the French. Somewhat more distinguished than whining, but not nearly as precise as complaining, râler is how the French express their perpetual dissatisfaction with the world. It is done with utmost grace, poise and perfect grammar, bien sûr. 11. Œil-de-bœuf You may be familiar with this word already since it has been adopted into English much in the same way as hors-d’œuvre. However, œil-de-bœuf is a much less appetizing than hors-d’oeuvres! This word literally translates to “ox eye,” but luckily does not refer to something edible. Rather, œil-de-bœuf refers to an oculus, or a circular/oval window often part of the architecture of churches, mosques and castles. In fact, the word œil (eye) can be used in French architectural lingo to refer to any small opening. This is logical though, since the English term “oculus” is also simply borrowed from the Latin word for “eye.” 12. Chauve-souris We continue our journey into the world of weird animal and animal-related vocabulary with the word chauve-souris. You may recognize the two composing parts of this word on their own: chauve means “bald” and souris means “mouse.” And what might a bald mouse be, you ask? Why it’s a bat, of course! There is a bit of debate among linguists as to how the so very strange chauve-souris came to replace the Latin term vespertilio. The most common theory is that folks used to call bats “owl mice” in popular Latin. The word for owl (cavannus) somehow got confused with the word for bald (calvus), and the rest is history! 13. Cerf-volant Yet another animal-themed word, cerf-volant literally translates to “flying deer.” Contrary to what every French learner hopes when trying to decipher this word for the first time, a cerf-volant is not a mythical creature floating about the forests of France alongside Merlin the magician! Take heart, however, because it is still a rather whimsical word, referring to a kite. Like chauve-souris, there has been some debate about the origin of cerf-volant. It’s generally agreed that the term unfortunately has nothing to do with flying deer, but comes from a mistaken spelling of the Old French serp-volante, under the influence of Occitan—a language spoken in the south of France. The word serp referred to another creature, of course: a serpent or dragon. It’s true that shimmying through the air as they do, kites do look a bit more like flying serpents than flying deer! 14. Crapoter Just like a fat American or a polite Canadian, a smoking, judgmental Frenchman is a lazy stereotype. Don’t feel bad, though: The French have actually invented a word for an amateur’s tendency to puff smoke without really getting a lungful. When you think about it, crapoter is similar in spirit to yaourter, in that both words are used to refer to people who have chosen to pretend, or faire semblant. Perhaps these words reveal a particular disdain the French have for fakers, or perhaps they just reveal a French propensity for making stuff up. 15. Spleen Another Baudelarian term, this word has nothing to do with the organ, which is called the rate in French. Spleen is a sentiment linked with profound feelings of dissatisfaction and discouragement. Take another typical French expression, ennui, and multiply it to the nth degree to get spleen. For Baudelaire, spleen became so overwhelming and pressing that he wrote several prose poems dedicated entirely to this feeling. 16. Saperlipopette “My word!” “Good gravy!” “Heavens to Betsy!” Saperlipopette falls into the category of expressions most people don’t say sincerely these days, or can’t even believe were ever said sincerely. You might have said this word if you stubbed your toe, were surprised by someone or if you were just angry and needed to yell something non-vulgar. In fact, the word itself comes from a long line of deformations of another exclamation: sacredieu or sacrebleu. You didn’t want to get caught saying those words in formal company, so they were disguised and euphemized until saperlipopette came to be. You have to wonder if it went out of style because no one could take it seriously, or just because it’s such a mouthful that at a certain point it was impossible to accept it as an expression of real astonishment. Saperlipopette appears in an early essay of the French poet Rimbaud. Even if poetry isn’t your thing, Rimbaud is worth reading for his bombastic word choice alone. He coined the term abracadabrantesque (from, you guessed it, abracadabra), meaning “fanastic” or “lacking credibility,” which was later used in an interview by former French president Jacques Chirac and since then has gained new ground. Make a point of using saperlipopette, and who knows? It may come back in vogue! 17. Balles Balles means bullets, but listen up! If you hear someone use this term in a market, weapons are probably not involved. That’s because it’s also a street term for euros. In the United States, it would be the equivalent of hearing “bucks”; you’re not talking about male deer, but rather dollars. If you want to sound really authentic, use balles when you’re emphatically complaining about how expensive something is! 18. Fute-fute The French are big on repeated syllables, which has resulted in amusing words from chouchou (a term of endearment) to kif-kif (an Arab loan word meaning “all the same”), but this one is my personal favorite. Meaning clever or bright, fute-fute is commonly used in the negative phrase pas fute-fute, to indicate that someone is not (as we might say in English) the brightest bulb in the box. A slang version of the adjective futé, meaning clever or cunning, fute-fute is especially lovable for its onamonapoetic evocation of a short circuit. You can just see the light bulb over the head flickering out! 19. Prout Prout is the onomatopoetic word for “toot” in French and it acts in much the same way—turning flatulence into childish joy and ROTFL-type laughter, as well as accurately describing the noise a horn makes. Onomatopoetic words are often fun, but this one in particular seems to have a special… shall we say, charm, in any language! 20. Raplapla Feeling a little deflated? That should be the opening line to a commercial for a new medication to battle fatigue. Cue fields of sunflowers and family barbecues. Cue list of horrible potential side effects. Then the final pitch: “Ready to feel like yourself again? Ask your doctor about Raplaplaploxin, the number one recommended treatment for when you’re feeling all…raplapla.” Like ananas (pineapple), you might be unsure of when to stop spelling it. Just remember: three vowels, then move along. These words have probably been a lot to process. But if you do have that drained, collapsed feeling, you should have no problem remembering the word raplapla, which is used to refer to a tired or worn out state but is also believed to be connected to the word plat (flat). Ever driven on a flat tire? Exactly. ..and as for that " Cucurbitacée " up at the top, it's not in any of my hefty French dictionaries, but I knew what it was anyway.
I thought this would be a good choice in view of the recent and ongoing exam fiasco ..... the comments are quite interesting as well...... A"bac" is also a "ferry-boat" , which is obviously a subtle hint at "progress" .... and un "bac à ordures" is, fittingly, a dustbin ! But now, a bit of music in the "simple stuff" tradition .. and if you don't know what I mean by " Simple Stuff", here's some of it from the past
simple-stuff-41663.html simple-stuff-44376.html simple-stuff-11745.html simple-stuff-43.html simple-stuff-318.html simple-stuff-3378.html simple-stuff-odyl.html -the-next-simple-stuff-ready.html 634-simple-stuff.html 663-simple-stuff-318.html acoustic-just-like-the-first-time.html acoustique-daisybox.html I think you've probably got the basic idea by now . ..how wonderful it would be if we could get to the stage where we could use our French almost imperceptibly... That was all very interesting and helpful, and I expect a lot of you do some of that already. You will also find more suggestions and strategies in the comments for that video too. One of my favourite tactics is really easy to do ..... because you can stick to your own level ..... when you're walking round the house/garden, you can talk about all the things you see.... but even better ...when you walk into town you can do that too....but as you're in public, you talk into your phone ! No one will think you're mad ... but they might if you were just talking to yourself ! But that phone liberates you to do what you like !!! So you can gabble away in whatever your level of French is ,and no one will bat an eyelid because you're having a conversation on the phone just like many others are doing. You can prattle on for ages, and the phone doesn't even need to be on ! I do it all the time .. and occasionally .... very occasionally ... I actually get to talk to real French people who are passing by and hear me speaking French. And the other good thing about it is, you find yourself learning stuff that's conversation-based .... snappy answers, smart starts .... little routines and patterns you can trot out easily and confidently. Go on ... have a go next time you go into town ..... Time, I think for the music .... â  ê Ê É î Î ô Ô û Û Ŵ ŵ Ŷ ŷ ç í á à â ä œ ç é è ê ë ç í ì î ï ó ò ô ö ù ø ú Ú û ü û Ï Ç ß Ü Ä Ë Ï Öñÿ•‡¡÷°¼½¾œ ƶ π ( As usual, I'm having to use that string of accented letters etc due to my computer not doing them properly.)( Dommage) Here's an odd French poem .... I found it in a big book of "nonsense poetry." Chapeau-tombeau ( Guillaume Apollinaire) On a niché Dans son tombeau L'oiseau perché Sur ton chapeau Il a vécu En Amérique Le petit cul Or nithologique J'en ai assez Je vais pisser. (And talking of accents, what is a bit unusual about that poem ?) ..and here's an odder one of his ... this time about a different creature entirely .. Le Phoque J'ai des yeux d'un vrai veau marin Et Madame Ygrec l'allure. On me voit dans tous nos meetings Je fais de la littérature Je suis phoque de mon état Et comme il faut qu'on se marie Un beau jour j'epouserai Lota Du matin au soir L'Otarie Papa Maman Pipi et tabac crachoir caf' conc' Laï Tou Before I show you the English translation for each of those, We'll have the usual spot of music. Of course, I hope you're going to have a try yourselves. It will, probably, be Terrific for your French. Right then ... music ... the Saez Season is still running ..and here's yet another Sing-Along-with-Saez opportunity ... OK ... it's " Official Translation Time" for those two poems ... ..don't worry if your version is a bit different.... they always are. Hat-tomb. Something nested In his tomb The bird perched On your hat He has lived In America The wee Or nithological Shit And/ Or That's it. I'm off for a pee. The Seal I have the eye of a real sea calf and Madame Y's allure I am present at all our soirées I am involved in Literature I am a seal by nature And as one has to marry One fine day I'll wed my Lota From dawn to dusk the Otary Daddy mummy Wee-wee and tobacco spittoon caf' conc' Lai Tou. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ How strange that both end with urination. To a sensitive soul it could cause a sensation Perhaps it's a "thing" throughout the French nation There's a urinal outside every Railway Station ! ( That was one of mine. ) â  ê Ê É î Î ô Ô û Û Ŵ ŵ Ŷ ŷ ç í á à â ä œ ç é è ê ë ç í ì î ï ó ò ô ö ù ø ú Ú û ü û Ï Ç ß Ü Ä Ë Ï Öñÿ•‡¡÷°¼½¾œ ƶ π ( That lot are up there because my computer seems to have lost its ability to "do" accents reliably ) ( But now, back to "Verse and Worse") Surprisingly, there's some French "verses" in there ..and here they are ... .. ' LA VIE ' ( Leon Montenaeken) La vie est vaine, Un peu d'amour, Un peu de haine Et puis ... bonjour ! La vie est brève, Un peu d'espoir, Un peu de rêve, Et puis ... bonsoir ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PRIVY GRAFFITI ( From a wall in Paris) Les noms des fous Sont écrits partout. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ COMRADES IN ARMS CONVERSATION PIECE ( Anon) "Bon soir, ma chérie, Comment allez-vous ?" " Je suis très bien, Merci beacoup." " Etes-vous fiancé ?" " San fairy- ann." " Voulez-vous promenader avec moi ce soir ?" "Combien?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ON POVERTY ( French traditional) La pauvreté n'est pas un péché ; Mieux vaut cependant la cacher ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They tended to be on the gloomy side, I would say. So let's have a spot of cheery-up music to balance things out .... Indochine ..." La Vie est Belle" ( jusqu'à un certain point.... ) ... and here's the " sing-along-with-Indochine" paroles version .... ... think of it as the next in my world-famous series of " Learn a French Song when you've got a spare hour or two" .... Le Verbe Être Poet: Andre Breton Je connais le désespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Le désespoir n’a pas d’ailes, il ne se tient pas nécessairement à une table desservie sur une terrasse, le soir, au bord de la mer. C’est le désespoir et ce n’est pas le retour d’une quantité de petits faits comme des graines qui quittent à la nuit tombante un sillon pour un autre. Ce n’est pas la mousse sur une pierre ou le verre à boire. C’est un bateau criblé de neige, si vous voulez, comme les oiseaux qui tombent et leur sang n’a pas la moindre épaisseur. Je connais le désespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Une forme très petite, délimitée par un bijou de cheveux. C’est le désespoir. Un collier de perles pour lequel on ne saurait trouver de fermoir et dont l’existence ne tient pas même à un fil, voilà le désespoir. Le reste, nous n’en parlons pas. Nous n’avons pas fini de deséspérer, si nous commençons. Moi je désespère de l’abat-jour vers quatre heures, je désespère de l’éventail vers minuit, je désespère de la cigarette des condamnés. Je connais le désespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Le désespoir n’a pas de coeur, la main reste toujours au désespoir hors d’haleine, au désespoir dont les glaces ne nous disent jamais s’il est mort. Je vis de ce désespoir qui m’enchante. J’aime cette mouche bleue qui vole dans le ciel à l’heure où les étoiles chantonnent. Je connais dans ses grandes lignes le désespoir aux longs étonnements grêles, le désespoir de la fierté, le désespoir de la colère. Je me lève chaque jour comme tout le monde et je détends les bras sur un papier à fleurs, je ne me souviens de rien, et c’est toujours avec désespoir que je découvre les beaux arbres déracinés de la nuit. L’air de la chambre est beau comme des baguettes de tambour. Il fait un temps de temps. Je connais le désespoir dans ses grandes lignes. C’est comme le vent du rideau qui me tend la perche. A-t-on idée d’un désespoir pareil! Au feu! Ah! ils vont encore venir… Et les annonces de journal, et les réclames lumineuses le long du canal. Tas de sable, espèce de tas de sable! Dans ses grandes lignes le désespoir n’a pas d’importance. C’est une corvée d’arbres qui va encore faire une forêt, c’est une corvée d’étoiles qui va encore faire un jour de moins, c’est une corvée de jours de moins qui va encore faire ma vie. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chouette, non? Maintenant, Indochine .... Le Grand Secret .... + paroles Well, it might not be Terrific For Your Nerves, but it could well be Terrific For Your French. You'll have to make up your own mind. There's quite a lot of "that sort of thing" on youtube .... so if you liked that, there's plenty more of it. .... and keeping up with the Saez Season ... here's "Hallelujah" .... Maman, m'a levé ce matin
Ou c'était peut être demain Je ne sais plus vraiment La nuit s'allume doucement Et mes yeux s'ouvrent lentement Comme deux bougies dans le vent Chevauchant mon vélo volant À toute allure je tue le temps Hallelujah (x4) Hallelujah Si seulement c'était réel J'verrais combien la vie est belle Si je sortais du lit Et je suivrais les hirondelles Loin de cette chambre d'hôtel Où je finis ma vie. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fasten your seat-belts .. she goes at a hell of a speed..... but it's interesting stuff ..... Well ... that was a full-on, 100 mph whoosh through those nine "progress markers. But they were very interesting and helpful too. You'll find more if you go through the comments. And lots of people have realised that they have "got" some of those goals, without even knowing about them. Lots to think about ... which can't be bad. We're on a sort of "Saez" thing at the moment ... so ... Think of this as your next " Learn a French song every so often" You can probably come up with some of your own "progress markers" .. and if you do, you could put them on here as a comment, or send them in to...
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AuthorLearn French in 88 years .. well, it's a long time, so you might as well enjoy yourself on the way. I hope you are enjoying all the sensible bits as well as the music, the games, challenges, odd diversions, rants, the roads less travelled and so on. I'm on the same road as well. Good luck to all of us. Archives ... monthly listing
September 2021
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