By Erik Skye

14 Jul 2011

Mots du jour: sante’ (cheers), verre (glass), casser (break)

Today, Dalia took us on a tour of Marseille. ‘It’s so beautiful here’ I reflected, as we drove through the city center. ‘You think so?’ Dalia responded. I could tell she wasn’t in total agreement. ‘Yes, well, the architecture is something I don’t get to see often’ I said. ‘Yes, but its dirty here’ Dalia replied, pointing to paper and plastic litter, swirling in the wind on an adjacent sidewalk. I hadn’t been focusing on that part.

The Corniche of Marseille is a shelf along the sea, with beaches, roads, walks, buildings, etc… It was very pretty. So was Notre Dame de la Garde.

We dropped Yacine off at the train station. I’ll see him again in Paris at the end of the trip.

It’s Bastille Day in France. I’m not exactly sure what it means. But it’s like our (USA) Independence Day somehow. There are supposed to be huge fireworks displays in French cities across the country. One of the things some people like to do is shoot fireworks from cars at people (I witnessed this in Paris a week ago), or to shoot them into passing cars that have windows rolled down. Dalia and I skipped the public environment, and instead travelled half an hour west, to a small house party.

I used all my best Francais on the French! I had the language skills of the three year-old also at the party, whom I tried to engage in French conversation a few times. I suggested we become Francais study partners. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go with me not being able to communicate in French, but everyone was so kind and generous. A number of people spoke with me in English, and we’d call on Dalia for help when we got stuck. Some people pointed and gestured as they attempted to utter a word or two in a foreign language (my main communication skill set here also). Others just smiled warmly. I felt very welcome and had a great time – especially with the Pastis (a regional favorite served with 1 part Pastis (anise-based), 7 parts water, and ice)!

The name of the blog article today is “Broken Glass”, and it’s a funny story. At the end of the evening, as we all got up from the patio table, three women collected the drinking glasses as they headed inside. I wanted to help too and collected the remaining six glasses. As I slipped my fingers into the tops of the drinking glasses (carrying three this way, in each hand), the man of the house began chastising me. Although he didn’t really know English, I did make out “women’s work”. But my mind was made up, I would complete my endeavor.

Four glasses made it back alive.

In one hand, my pinky was holding a half-full glass, which proved too heavy for my method. Just as I cleared the edge of the table it fell, shattering on the concrete patio. It was a setback, but being full of Pastis and not knowing what to say about it anyway, I continued on to the kitchen for a partial victory. I was with the women now, pioneers of drinking glass transport. Just before I set my prizes down, however, a drinking glass from the other hand crumbled and 20 pieces fell to the floor to make 20 additional pieces. I have no idea why that one broke. But the main point of the story is that even after that, I felt completely comfortable with my new French friends.

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