À la radio

I finally went out and bought a radio today. The cheapest that I could find, since France has already rendered my broke. This, I think, will keep my exposure to French constant which is especially useful on days like today, when I spend a lot of time alone and therefore don't get much practice speaking (though I suppose I could always try speaking to myself in French, eh?) On that note, I must say that the radio makes my apartment feel a little less lonely. Is that sad?

Sad or not, I was rather charmed by the simplicity of this model and its retro look...until I got home, looked at the instructions, and realized that I had been the victim of...what would one call it...nostalgia marketing?? I had in fact, bought an "Oldy" Radio.
















Kitschy marketing aside, there's something very comforting about the simplicity of listening to the radio. I think the internet has conditioned me to want to read, write, listen and what have you simultaneously- sometimes it's nice to just be still. It seems that France in general kind of discourages multi-tasking. Take their shopping system for example. Try to multitask (à la...no, I cannot bring myself to write the name of that wretched store) and one is severely punished. You go to the boulangerie for your bread, the charcuterie for your meat and cheese, the pharmacie for your...health items? the tabac for your anti-health items (I don't go to the tabac!) the patisserie for your sweet tooth, the...you get the point. Though I like this in theory, it's a bit hard to adjust to in practice. The American in me really just wants a place where I can go and get it all done with.

Well anyway, as I was doing my dishes tonight (after a truly balanced meal of a baguette and brie cheese) a George Harrison song came on the radio. Now go ahead and accuse me of solipsism, but I couldn't help but notice how much it evoked my experience with France.

"I Got My Mind Set On You"

I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you

But it's gonna take money
A whole lotta spending money
It's gonne take plenty of money
To do it right child

It's gonna take time
A whole lot of precious time
It's gonna take patience and time, ummm
To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it,
To do it right child

I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you
I got my mind set on you

And this time I know it's for real
The feelings that I feel
I know if I put my mind to it
I know that I really can do it

I got my mind set on you
Set on you
I got my mind set on you
Set on you

I've also started to carry around a little notebook. Every time I think of
a word I don't know, I write it down to look up later. Or conversely, every time
I read a French word I don't know, I write that down too. I imagine myself to look
quite mysterious and enigmatic, just spontaneously whipping out this notebook and
scribbling in it. Perhaps people think I am a travel writer of sorts. Maybe I should
try doing it in restaurants and see if it gets me better service :-p

The latest thing I added to my list was good insults for creepy-ass dudes. Woohoo, eh?
But it is necessary. The weather has warmed up significantly and consequently, I
wore a mini-skirt today. With the exception of being the recipient of some
uncomfortably long gazes, I didn't have any problems. That is, until late this
afternoon when some guy came up and mumbled something to me. I couldn't understand
him at first, but when I asked him to repeat what he'd said, I made out the
"les cuisses" (thighs) and I knew it was time to bolt. But I didn't know what to say
and instead just let out a disgusted guffaw. "Tu comprends?" he asked. "Oui, je
comprend" I said in a distinctly annoyed tone. Of course, I probably shouldn't
have said anything at all. Funny how even in sketchy situations like that, I
still want to prove that my French is good!

Next time I might whip out one of these:

Trou du Cul- Asshole

Va te faire enculer- bugger off

Va te faire enculer, trou de cul!

I had another creepy encounter the other night, with a group of kind-of-older men I passed while
walking down the banks of the Rhone river. Sometimes here, I feel so solitary that
I feel like I might strike up a conversation with a squirrel if given the chance.
so when they started talking to me, I talked back even though I knew better. It was
after all, only 8pm or so, and there were lots of people around to help me if the
situation got weird. Plus, I love opportunities to practice speaking in French. They
just asked me if I had rolling papers. Of course, I didn't, but then they immediately
realized I was foreign and started asking me questions. It all seemed harmless enough
until one of them smiled and said tu es jolie (you are pretty). In situations like
these, the subjunctive really comes in handy.

Uhh, il faut que je parte maintenant. Au revoir monsieur!

I walked off somewhat quickly, chastising myself for being stupid enough to
talk to them, when I began to hear footsteps behind me. I wondered if it was
one of them and finally had to turn around to check. Sure enough, Mr. tu es jolie
is walking behind me and asking if he can speak with me for a minute. Needless
to say, I told him No, he absolutely Could Not parle avec moi. Luckily, he took the
"hint."

What did he think I was? A prostitute?

Jesus.

On a happier note, I would like everyone to know that I have brought the infamous
red wig to Lyon.


My friends and I had a little wine, chocolate
and cheese soirée before our official orientation
soirée, at my place. I must say I quite enjoyed
playing the hostess. They laughed at me (rightly)
for having a book called "The Treasury of French
Love"- it's basically this book of famous gushy
love poems with english translations. Like my
radio, it was just so darn kitschy I couldn't
resist buying it.

Perhaps if I wear the wig around Lyon, it will
ward off some of the leacherous men?




It is Friday night, and I am blogging. I tell myself that all this alone time in a
foreign city is really poetic. But maybe it's just how it feels, which is...lonely.

Only time will tell.