Je parle une langue deuxieme ... peut être

Yesterday, in class, I had to deliver my first talk in French. I quite enjoyed trying to get the accent right, and to deliver in an interesting manner for my listeners. Here is what I wrote (and spoke):

Qui est? Je suis Australienne. J‘étais née à Australie. J’ai un diplôme en économie de l’université de Melbourne. J’ai un frère aîné, et une sœur cadette. J’étais dix ans quand mon père est mort. Bien que j’ai haute avec cheveux blonde, je ne suis pas belle. Pourtant, peut être mon caractère attire les gens à moi. Les gens pensent j’ai le charisme. Je travail dur du métier, tous les deux ici et outre-mer. Les heures sont longes, mais le revenu est généreux. Je paye mes impôts. Je contribue à ma communauté, souvent pro-bono. Je mariiais pendant treize ans et j’ai trois fils. Je ne suis pas une hypocrite. Je fais comme je dis. Et néanmoins, je suis tourné en ridicule sans pité parce que je me défends ce que je crois.

Any ideas?

Yesterday, also, I enrolled for the next term of lessons through the WEA in Bathurst Street. The lecturer is just superbe, and my fellow students, come and go, but the core group are stayers. This will be my 7th Term, meaning that I will have about 100 hours under my belt.

The next aim is to sus out a course in Paris for the northern autumn of 2012. I already have 5 possibilities from assorted peoples. I want something that is 3 or 4 weeks long, is either 3 or 4 hours each morning. I am not fussed about there being group activities in the afternoons. I am sufficiently resourceful that way myself. And besides, I will need the rest and the headspace.

Neighbourhood watching

Today was a 'red-letter' day. Not sure where that expression comes from, other than Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter" where his heroine had to wear a screaming red A on her chest. A for adultery. Anyway, it was just a day for taking note in my book.

Today, I found a cafe that I am pleased with. Now that is picky I know, because I am in Paris and cafes are a franc-a-dozen, one would think. But I want one that doesn't serve frothee-coffee. That doesn't pile a plate high with limp-lettuce and fatty-frites! So in my wander of the 7th (between Invalides and La Tour it is known as 7th-sud) I turned a few corners and blow-me-down was in rue St-Dominique, outside this most un-French looking pastry shop.


It is very much a woman's shop - no wine,no fries. But lots of sugar. I had the sandwich de jour, which was a gorgeously crunchy roll. Plus a grand creme, but really did not need THAT much milk so a Petit creme will suffice tomorrow. I rounded it off with a very lip-smacking tarte citron. And all that cost 13 euros - at an exchange rate of 69c, you do the math, as they say.

Prior to that though, I did myself proud. I posted some letters and bought more stamps. I went into three shops looking for a non-slip mat for the shower-over-bath. Found one for E10.95. Found a plug for the kitchen sink for E4.95 AND an old ladies; shopping trolley for E34.90 which was a rip-off.

Now does all that scream out that I am living here!! Add to that, that today is the end of the first week and the longest continuous stay in Paris for me. AND AND AND ... I am doing a load of washing.

Wuhoo ... I'm living here ... I'm living here, doing ordinary things.