Françoise and I have been watching her favorite television program for the past two weeks. It's a French soap opera, Plus Belle La Vie. I've been following it pretty well. I finally know enough French to ask Françoise about it, so last night we had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: Ok, I think I'm understanding this. So the guy who's getting beaten up right now is gay.
Françoise: Yes, but how did you know that?!
Me: Well, I figured it out when I saw him kissing that other guy.
Françoise: Yes, that would do it.
Me: And the man beating him up right now with brass knuckles is the mob boss, utterly distressed that this gay man is sleeping with his son. What a sad display of homophobia!
Ok, so I may have overexaggerated on that last line. It was probably more like "him, father" in French followed by "mob boss" in English with punching movements. Françoise understood though, and that's what matters.
Today the French are all participating in a beloved French pastime: striking.
The bus drivers are striking today, which means I get to walk home. Some of the teachers are also striking, though I'm still not exactly sure which ones. The teachers here weren't, sadly.
In France, groups strike before they negotiate. I don't know how well it works, but these people know how to organize a strike. I mean, I heard Charles De Gaulle was planning on cancelling about 75% of their flights, which is just ridiculous. I'm sure it's not that many, but still.
Strikes better not become popular in America. I have a feeling already that they're one thing I won't miss about France.
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2 comments:
J'espère que l'aéroport ne se trouve pas dans une grève, quand nous venons de visiter! love, mom
I just read your post out loud to Jack and we got a good laugh out of it!
When Jack and I were in Paris in 1990, all he knew how to say was "Oui, souffle". Didn't get him very far. Thank goodness I knew about 50 more words than that!
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