By Erik Skye

17 Jul 2011

Mots du jour: J’ai (I), J’achete (I buy; i.e. I buy this...), J’habite (I live; i.e. I live here...), J’appele (I called; i.e. my name is...)

A sweet young woman was sitting beside me on the train (we had already established I didn’t know French). An announcer spoke with lightning speed, and when he was through I exclaimed “I didn’t understand a word he said” (as if it were the pace of his speaking that was my issue). She smiled, paused, and then replied “it means we’re leaving now”.

As I walked through Bordeaux, I heard a chipper whistle. ‘Where’s it coming from; who’s making that noise’ I thought, as I glanced around A La Memoire Des Girondins. It was spry grandpa in a beret out for a Sunday stroll. I was happy, but he was too happy, and it annoyed me. I continued on, along streets lined with imposing architecture, through large cobble stone plaza’s, past parks filled with trees and children. And the whistle followed. I quickened my pace, and finally lost it. Relieved, I began to whistle too.

Had to check – yep, they sell beer at McDonalds.

Here’s a video from the house party that Dimitri took me to last night (technically this morning): French Party

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