I write stuff and I live in France.
Some of our best sailing friends were preparing to leave Cape Town, but the weather was fierce, the wine plentiful, and the food too darn good for these Oddgodfreys uproot their land based lifestyle just yet. Join us in this post as we experience the Southern Atlantic’s ENORMOUS waves from the safet
Those cats are no longer with us. The big one on the bottom tied the world record for cat toes, according to a vet tech. Twenty-seven toes. He looked like several cats glued together, and he had a lovely personality. But, no, that’s not what I’ve been doing.
I have gotten back into playing music. In fact, over the weekend, I performed at a neighborhood party, my first performance of any kind in years. I had a bit of an epiphany while staying in France last Spring, and developed a new and deeper understanding of authenticity. My own especially. I wrote a post about it that you can read over on my writing blog, should you be so inclined. The link is above, to the right. Just click it. Go on, it works. Ahem. Sorry about that. When I was in my teens and twenties, I really wanted to be a folk singer hero. You know, the next Bob Dylan. Of course, Dylan is a heck of a poet, and I’m not, but who’s counting, right? My first song was “Sounds of Silence” from Simon and Garfunkle. Amazingly, my dad’s guitar and my brother’s old record player were both in tune. One string at a time, I plunked it out. Imagine my surprise some years later when, upon checking the sheet music, I discovered that I had it just right! Some people would say it was meant to be. I just say I was lucky. But, I didn’t do much with that talent (I am okay on guitar, no Clapton, but okay) nor with my writing for a few decades. That is a shame, for me. But now, I’m back, folks!
So I practice my music every day. I have a YouTube channel, which shall go nameless for now because there’s nothing on it but a bit of filler, where I will be posting songs as I get good at them, either for the first time, or again. I’ll post when the first videos are up. I also write every day. Not necessarily my current novel project, but stuff, lots of stuff. Blog posts? Yes, even blog posts. And my current project is close to being drafted. (Autocomplete wanted “finished.” A lot autocomplete knows!) This book will sell, because I’m tired of practicing. I’ll post how that’s done as well, either here or on my writing blog, maybe on both. Also, we continue to prepare to move to France. I actually miss France, although it’s difficult to find Fritos ™ there.
There. Two posts, one story. But, also be sure to keep reading the stuff from OddGodfrey. She’s a good writer, and a sailor, and currently in Brazil.
Later!
Last week I told you where I am. Now here is what I’ve been up to. I mean, Blog is short for weB LOG, after all, so here’s a log entry for ya.
I spent three months (almost) in our house in Lizant, France last Spring. Pretty much all Spring, although I was able to enjoy (?) the first of this year’s now famous heat waves. The house retains heat (or cool) pretty well, so with fans, it was okay. Not always great, but okay, so long as I opened all the windows at night and closed them by nine or ten in the morning. There is more I’d like to get done to the place before we move in, from simply painting to overseeing some major remodeling of an old Fish & Chips shop, and a lot of stuff in between. But that will have to wait until the family that has rented it, who are shopping for a house of their own, find and close the deal on said house of their own. It takes about four months to buy a house in France and I don’t think that they have an offer in yet.
This is complicated by the fact that ma bonne mere, mother-in-law, has announced her intention to move back to Phoenix to live with a different daughter this fall. Since her living in our house in Henderson is the reason we couldn’t just up and move to France, well, now we can just up and move to France. Once our house is available, that is. The upside is that they are adding money to our French bank account on a monthly basis. It’s hard to be too upset about that, as our remodeling will probably cost, um rough estimate: a lot!
While I was in France I demonstrated the general rule that breaking any sort of writers’ block may be best accomplished by doing something completely different. I think living in a foreign country (less foreign seeming than it used to be) qualifies. I started a new project, unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I like it. I feel like I must write it, and, amazingly, I don’t really care what the world may think of it. It’s all authentic, all real, and, by cracky, a fantasy. So, I’ve been cranking out a chapter a day (most days) since early June. I’m sure it sucks bigly, which is why I’m looking forward to revising and revising, which probably will start soon. You may see this one for sale yet, folks. As I said, I like it.
And, after years, I’m finally able to do regular runs again. Last week a total of 2.9 blistering miles, with a pace as fast as 12:44. The one-legged man with a bad ankle is having trouble keeping up! And I read, and I watch TV (mostly streamed,) and, well, heck, this is getting long. I’ll post again, maybe even with something funny. ‘Cause I am doing more than I’ve revealed so far. Have a great week, people! Au revoir!
Captain Andrew launches into his Grog-Reprovisioning Project and we ring in the New Year with a cheerful portion of the 2021-2022 South Africa Cruising Fleet. Meet a sailor who truly deserves to have “HOLD FAST” tattooed to his knuckles, and park your own “wagon” to enjoy Make it
Cape Town steeped in maritime history as it is, sailors’ pilgrimages were the order of the day. Before the end of the Oddgodfrey’s first week, we were already feeling 30% more sailor-ly than we did upon arrival.
Well you might ask! I mean, look at this pathetic blog, will you? A few things reposted from somewhere else, lots of blank periods with nothing. What gives? Well, truth is, I have a blog dedicated to writing advice, over at stevefeythewriter (wordpress.com) Between that and the project I’m currently excited to be working on, I kind of run out of writing steam before I get any funny stuff ready for this blog. (Yes, this was originally supposed to be a humorous blog. Don’t think this is funny? No sense of humor!!! Bwaaaa Haaaaaa Haaaaa!
Anyhow, I never have figured out how to get all of my previous posts, when I was using a different hosting service, to work here. Oh, yes, I followed the directions, but, no dice.
Anyhow, that’s why this blog is a bit sparse.
A BIT sparse? Who does he think he’s kidding?
But if you have any interest in writing fiction, check out that blog I link to above. It gets decent reviews from people who subscribe (yes, subscribe, what do you know, huh?) I will make an effort to contribute original material here, too, although honestly, OddGodfrey is a pretty entertaining blog!
With the whole fleet’s lines secured to their dock slip of choice, holiday festivities of 2021 were under way. Just like celebrating on land, we enjoy the antics of Crazy-Uncle-Pete, a series of culinary successes, and the kind of epic Christmas Dessert failure that places 2021 in the “Most Mem
We had arrived in Cape Town, South Africa, a world class city designed from its inception to replenish a sailors’ spirit. Join us for the start of a whole series of posts all about living the Cape Town Life and preparing Sonrisa, her Wine Cellar, and our souls to cross the South Atlantic Ocean 2022.
Apparently I never published the reasons why the French insist on politeness here. So, here they are.
France, like another country with which I am quite familiar, ditched a monarchy. It took the USA seven years. It took France a century. To be fair, the monarch lived in France, but across an ocean from the United States. Now that brought up a problem of personal address. With an established nobility (also still living in country) there were established ways to greet nobles. You wouldn’t just go up to a Compte (Count), slap him on the back and ask, “How’s it hangin’, old buddy?” And then the lower classes were designed and created by God (according to the nobility) for the nobility to ignore and walk all over. Suddenly, though, Lafayette, with some advice from Thomas Jefferson (told you that these two countries had similar beginnings) went to work on a “Delcaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen.” That document is a portion of the constitution of the Fifth Republic of France. It is not unlike the Bill of Rights, so I won’t go into what it grants, but I will point out that, with that document joining the official government papers, you couldn’t just ignore the peasantry any more. But, then how to address a former peasant?
The revolutionaries, much like the later Bolsheviks in Russia, invented all sorts of ridiculous answers to that question. Heck, “comrade” might even have been one of them, but those ideas died after the Reign of Terror. Along with thousands of humans, of course. But, probably during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, the following ideas were adopted.
To say hello, say bonjour. Bonjour is a compound word, a portmanteau it’s called, combining bon which is “good” and jour which is “day.” Because, when meeting a noble, you want to wish them a good day, of course.*
Consider the politics. Those nobles didn’t want to give up being addressed respectfully, and who could blame them? But if everyone is addressed as nobility, they won’t lose, and the peasantry gains. How much do the peasants gain? Well, consider that madame is made from the words ma, or feminine “my” and dame, or lady. When you call the store clerk madame you are calling her “My Lady.” Same with monsieur. Mon is the masculine “my” and sieur is an old way to say “lord” so you’re calling the guy fixing your car, or lunch or whatever, “My Lord.” That’s a big step up from invisibility, I’d say.
Of course, one also uses please and thank-you when addressing a noble, so now Si’l vous plait or S’il te plait are now used politely for everyone. Thank you is the relatively well-known, merci! And then, not to insult your noble, you end with something like “Thank you, see you next time!” Right? Well, Au revoir translates into “Until We See Each Other Again.” Et voila! There were tender alliances to be tended to in the government, the nobility would not accept demotion, but they did accept de jure promotion for everyone else. In other words, in France, everyone is nobility. Noble titles are strictly honorary, and that’s been true for a long time, but the fact remains that everyone in the country (including tourists) is to be treated like nobility. Well, in greeting and transacting business anyway, if not in privilege. Add that to the fact that French restaurant dining is a more relaxed, drawn-out affair, during which you must ask for the check (addition) when you’re ready to pay, Now, if you haven’t used all the proper greetings, etc, and you’re an impatient American diner, you think that the French are impolite, when in fact the opposite is true.
And that’s the truth!
* The way to wish someone a good day is now “bonne journée”. A journée was once a day trip, now it’s a day.
The title of this post means “Being Polite.”
No, not in the old Fish & Chips shop. We hope to convert that to living space anyway. In the house, which is behind the other three doors you see on the building. The bit that sticks out at the far end is a sort of sunroom, with an outdoor patio on the roof. We have three toilets, two showers, one bathtub, a big back yard, and lots of flowers. Kind of nice, actually. At first it wasn’t so much, but it’s grown on me, kind of like, oh, I dunno, It gets into the blood, this French living.
The reason I’m writing is to summarize a bit my impressions of France as a place, as opposed to the idealized place many seem to love or hate.
Driving. In a rural area, such as 86400 Lizant, you need to drive quite a bit. No more than living in Las Vegas, though. I can be at a supermarket in eight minutes, which is better than is the case in many suburbs, and the roads are actually roads, not suburban nightmares of eight lanes or more. And, people know how to use roundabouts! The French have a reputation as being bad drivers, which is maybe earned, because in most things, they drive just like Americans. Yes, we’re all bad at it, and we all think we’re the best at it. Hah! Anyhow, they are better at yielding to pedestrians, bicycles and others, and better at maneuvering in tight spaces. Some of the spaces are pretty darned tight, so that’s not surprising. But in basic skill level, from staying in their lane to using signals, it’s just about the same sad story.
Food. French food is famous for being wonderful. Prior to the second world war, a “good” American restaurant would feature French recipes. Chef Boiardi (Boy-Ar-Dee) started changing all that, and now of course a good restaurant might serve almost any cuisine. Thing is, traditional French food really is good, but, as a long time Southwesterner, I think it needs some heat. I’ve had Mexican here that was bland. Seriously. But I’ve also had some excellent food, and I enjoy finding a place that serves a meal over time, as is traditional, so that each course has a chance to settle a bit, and one can have a conversation. The French say, by the way, that Americans are too loud in restaurants, and sometimes they’re right. But, a month ago I had dinner in a very nice restaurant in Paris, where two tables of French people took turns out-shouting each other. Yeah, those darned Americans, huh?
Attitudes. In France, nothing gets done yesterday. That’s not to say that the fire department will take its sweet time or anything. An emergency (urgence) is another matter entirely. But it can take a while to get a tradesman to show up at your place, and if they say “nine,” you’d do well to think “maybe ten.” That’s okay if you’re expecting it. It also means that you don’t have to press to be first in line all the time. You can take time to smell the fleur-des-lis, if you want to. There is something to be said for the idea that efficiency is not an end in and of itself. Still, if you want the American style of efficiency, you’ll be out of luck. Try not to let it make you suffer.
Manners. Everyone in France is polite. In most places, if you want someone to deal with you, even a store clerk, you’d better say hello. Or better yet, bonjour. That isn’t an optional thing in France. Also, you say please, thank you, and “until we meet again,” which is what au revoir means. You say that to some airport clerk you’re unlikely to see again if you live to be 150, but you must say it, because it’s polite. I may have posted before about the reasons for these necessities, but if not (I’ll check), I’ll do it next time. People who say that the French are impolite and unfriendly have not been polite in the first place. If you visit, say bonjour to everyone. Say it to a stray dog on the street. Say it to store clerks, vagabonds, gendarmes, old ladies, little kids, everyone. You cannot say it too often. Then remember please, thank you, and au revoir. If you know please and thank you in French, that’s bonus territory.
Overall. France is a place a lot like a lot of places. It’s a very diverse country, where there are entirely too many dialects of French spoken to make it easy on a learner. But that’s okay. They appreciate my French, even if I (probably) have a nasty accent. The people are friendly and helpful, unfailingly polite (except for one bitch lady neighbor to a b&b we stayed in North of Paris) and generally speaking the weather is nice, certainly much cooler than Vegas, where I’m heading to shortly. I’m looking forward to coming back to keep spiffing up the house, eating the pizza from the local bar, and drinking cheap good wine. One could do worse.