A Pimpertam Glimp

There's no shortage of stereotypes attached to American culture. On the one hand, it's a complement because it means our media (music, TV, and film) are dispersed and consumed so widely that foreigners can't help but make assumptions. There's also a fair amount of animosity in some cultures where native film and TV can't gain the same amount of traction *cough* France. That's not to say that France doesn't make good movies, they just all seem to largely center on the same subject - middle aged people falling in love. 

 Middle aged love affair - crazy family version

Middle aged love affair - accidental adoption version

Middle aged love affair - high fashion version (OK. They were a little younger)

You get the point. So recently I asked my students what were some stereotypes they have about American high schools. This is essentially the list they gave me -

1. Everyone is singing. Always

2. You're either popular or a loser

3. A third option is being a "pompom girl"

4. We love "junky food"

5. We play football and ice hockey

6. Girls be getting pregnant left and right 

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A fun fact about French language is the existence of "Verlan," a type of highly popular slang that is essentially pig latin. It involves simply switching the syllables of a word. Bizarre becomes zarbi or maestro become stromae. The word Verlan itself comes from l'envers or inverse. It started as a way for youth and/or disenfranchised groups in France to reclaim the stuffy, aristocratic language of their country. 

Which leads me to my next point. Often times in class I'll have a moment, maybe towards the end of the day, where focus is low and the kids just want to have fun. This is when I'll open the floor to questions about more familiar vocabulary they might not necessarily learn in school. The first time I did this a girl, hesitant at first, checked in to make sure "poop" meant what she thought. I think she'd been harboring that one for a while. Another student remarked, "zat is a funnny werd." I pointed out that compared to the French equivalent (faire caca--literally to 'make feces') English was doing alright. Since none of them ever seem inclined to ask any questions I've decided to make up some words of my own. Because why should the kids have all the fun !? I've worked in relevant stereotypes for extra believability. 

1. Snizzle (verb). Def: The act of making food in a microwave before cuddling with a significant other OR medium sized dog. "I'm feeling lazy tonight, let's just stay in and snizzle."

2. Curdlepop (noun). Def: The sound produced while burping and simultaneously reciting the pledge of allegiance.  "Great curdlepop Brittany, we should go to the mall together this weekend." 

3. Glimp (pronoun). Def: A means of referring to any nameless member of the "uncool" group. "I bet if glimp got a haircut and maybe some self-confidence we'd refer to glimp by glimp's real name."

4. Vrolick (noun). Def: When a group hangout out turns into individuals showing their favorite youtube clip/music video. "Last night was wild. We drank four lokos and all crowded around Brad's 2011 Macbook and had a killer vrolick.*

5. Pimpertam (adj). Def: Used to suggest dually that, someone is in their first trimester of pregnancy OR just ate a happy meal and also accidentally the toy. "Ever since Jennifer got that botched lasik surgery she's been eating everything in sight and I don't mind saying she looks pretty pimpertam."

6. Icefootball (noun). Def: Playing football with ice skates. "My pond just froze over, let's play icefootball. Literally Everyone is doing it. I'm American."

7. Schmooping (verb). Def: When a pompom girl loses her pompoms and is forced to perform pompom-less. "I heard Heather Schmooped at last years Homecoming and that's why the team lost."

I think that should keep them busy for a good 30 minutes. Which is all I need to ride out the end of a lesson. If you've got any suggestions for good made up words leave them in the comments !

*I wholly believe there should be a word for this

Kirikou and the Sorceress

The titular character and his nemesis, the sorceress 

Not to be mistaken for French cream cheese

If you aren't watching Kirikou then you're simply not with it. Originally a French produced film made in 1998, Kirikou follows an exceptional young boy in a West African village as he fights against the evil witch who is bent on depriving and starving his people. Coincidentally she looks like the most evil of drag queens--something Cruella de Vil could only aspire to. 

The best way to avoid a "wardrobe malfunction" is to own it

Several films have followed including a stage musical and let me tell you that, as someone who babysits a four-year-old, this show is HUGE with the kids. And honestly, it's well written and has great morals attached to its narrative. What can be a little disconcerting to the (prudish) Western eye is the honest nudity but it's so well done I can't imagine it any other way. But enough blabbering, see for yourself !

Warning. What makes Kirikou special is his hyper intellect and maturity. So mature in fact that he essentially births himself. He's kind of a show off. Which maybe accounts for the witch's animosity...

Dough Hole

France provides a bevy of appetizing gourmet experiences for tourists and natives alike. Cheese and wine cost essentially nothing and where New York has a bodega on every block, Paris has a bakery every five steps. It's a beautiful thing-

I was told the heart eclairs had to purchased together. Cute. But also a little eww

That said, there are obviously things I miss from back home in New York. In order of importance it would be something like:

1. Slice of pizza

2. Bagel

3. Peanut Butter Cup

But as international city, Paris does provide global cuisine. As I've said before, the bagel has gained some traction round these parts- 

Now don't get me wrong. I understand that imported items are more expensive. It's why Pop Tarts cost the price of a good steak here. But if you just import the idea of a food, you don't get to charge more for it. And trust me, the water in these bagels is not from Brooklyn. Which is why I scoff at the idea of buying one of these over priced dough holes. Unless my bagels comes with 5 euros in the middle, I'm not paying 7 for it. 

So it was against my better judgement whilst eating at an "American" themed restaurant that I ordered a pastrami sandwich. I know, I know ! That's like going to Vietnam and asking for a funnel cake. But I was craving mountains of thinly sliced pastrami between rye bread with a spicy mustard ! What really should have tipped me off was that the sandwich came on a bagel and was topped with spinach and cream cheese. Someone along the way confounded a lox schmear with a pastrami. And then added spinach for some reason. Which makes me sad. But I was emotionally weak, hungry and full of hope. What's more American than that?!

When my meal arrived I audibly gasped:

Like a CSI crime scene detective I examined what, to me at least, was nothing less then a double homicide. Both for the bagel and the pastrami. Three slices of meat topped a stale, sesame seed bagel. Could a brother at least get an everything? I was angry, confused, and flabbergasted to say the least…

Did I send it back or refuse my meal? Are you kidding me, I'm dead poor. I cleaned my plate. And that's the really shame of the evening.   

Eenie Meenie Miney "Moi"

A new trimester means a new crop of teenagers for me to teach/fear. And with it, the promise of recycling old lesson plans. But, like the stand up who bores of her act, or the chef who refuses to make another soufflé, I wanted to spice up my tried-and-true games and exercises. 

Sooo I googled searched "conversation topics advanced ESL." I stumbled upon a document that asks several lofty, thought provoking questions about human existence and the future of our planet. "Will we be happier in the future? Why or why not?" "Can someone be happy professionally, and also have a fulfilling family life?" They're questions often posed by the SyFy and Lifetime networks respectively. 

I chose a simple one for my class of 16-year-olds. "What are the five most important decisions in a person's life?" It's easy to understand but also thought provoking. And it allows me to conduct a mini-experiment by breaking up the groups into boys and girls and seeing where they differ. 

So far I haven't had any significant differences in gender but I did have one group of boys who really "told it how it is." This is their ranking of major life decisions:

1. Having a family or not (and who with).

2. What to study.

These two are most often up there.

3. Following the political/religious alliances of your family or not

This one really surprised me. That's a lot of introspection for a teenager.

4. Choosing your friends.

Very important in my opinion. Often overlooked by groups.

5. Whether you cheat on your wife or not.

That last one was said with complete sincerity. Do with that what you will.

When Addressing a Group of Raccoons

French is a somewhat precious language. With its gendered vocabulary, extravagant idioms, and romantic rhythm it feels kind of expensive. If you took French on a date, you'd shell out. French orders steak. And lobster.

One of the tricks I use to get my students talking on those excruciating Monday mornings is to ask them about French culture. Playing the ignorant American, I inquire how "things are done around these parts?" And slowly but surely my smelly band of 16-year-olds starts to perk up. 

Take Christmas for example. After explaining the all too familiar American holiday traditions I turned the focus on my students. I learned, for instance, that in France when you're bad you don't get coal, but instead rotten food. Which seems so much more malicious. And also so much more French. Coal to an American represents everything that isn't shiny and expensive. It's the promise of diamonds and instead you get dirt. In a country where regional cuisine merits it's own word (terroir) rotten food is a real slap in the face to a Frenchie. 

What's more, they've managed to class-up the punchline that is American Santa. Here, Papa Noel is a bachelor (sorry Mrs. Clause). Which makes sense considering most French men in positions of power don't seem fit for monogamy (the current president of France, Francois Holland, just got caught cheating on his wife with a French actress see here ). And instead of living in a hokey, deserted North Pole cabin, Papa Noel resides in Finland. I was shocked at the sincerity with which this was explained to me. "He lives in Laponie. It's next to Scandinavia." Could this student tell me anything about Laponie? "There are lots of white rabbits there." This was said to me in a tone one might use to explain that there are "palm trees in Florida." Duh !

I was ready to throw in the towel on France just being a real class act. A place where even hormonal teenagers can somehow step back and appreciate the magnificence of their country and language. Then I remembered that these are the same kids who eat pasta with ketchup on it-

It's a thing.

Then a student raised her hand. "That iz only if 'ee iz bad. If you 'rrr really bad then Pere Fouettard come." Several students nodded in silent agreement--as if reminiscing on something unpleasant. 

Pere Fouettard literally translates to "Whipping Father." As it was explained to me, he looks like Papa Noel, only dressed entirely in black. Some students suggested that he's Santa's brother which seems like a classic soap opera trope. But other students insisted that Pere Fouettard is actually Santa himself. Now that's a show I would TiVo. Compared to Santa--who enters the house through the chimney or door--Fouettard enters through the window or worse, sometimes he materializes under your bed. As the name suggests, he beats you. Which is neither terribly creative or romantic. 

I began questioning what other cultural landmarks are perhaps imperfect behind all the cigarette smoke and sex. Take for example, L'Academie francaise. This institutional body has been charged with preserving the French language since the 1600s. Where we have UrbanDictionary and Merriam Webster (who willy-nilly adds just about anything to the English lexicon--"twerk," really?) France has L'Academie. It's composed of 40 elected official who call themselves "Immortals." I know. They meet every Thursday afternoon wearing the traditional silver and green robes and each sporting a "jeweled sword." They basically always look like they're leaving Elton John's Halloween party. Here's a list of some people who weren't accepted to L'Academie: Descartes, Balzac, Proust, Moliere and Emile Zola.

Is French a beautiful language? Undoubtedly. Does it warrant a group of prolific writers dressed like cult members deciding it's linguistic future? Jury's out. Is it free of imperfection? Nerp!

Did you know that the word for "avocado" and "lawyer" are the same in French? What kind of upside down socialist world is this, amiright? And I won't even get started on the gendered nouns cause I have too many feelings but let's simply examine the existence of the second-person plural pronoun in French:

Where as in English there exists only one "you," in French there are two. One singular pronoun and one plural. So in English I can say "you look lovely tonight" to my dog, but also to a group of raccoons. In French I would specify between tu and vous according to the number of mammals I'm addressing. Vous is also considered to be more formal when addressing a respected elder or the scary man that works at the post office. The French seem to silently lord this formal tense, as a landmark of cultural sophistication, over Americans.

But upon further reflection I realized that English does in fact have a second personal plural for addressing more than one "you." It's called "y'all." 

Vous=Y'all, y'all. Who's classy know France?*


Again, as an apology for rambling, I leave you with this picture--

This is the first Burger King in France that just opened a couple of months ago in Paris. That is a velvet rope behind which people are waiting. For Burgar King. Good night and God bless y'all.

*please don't take away my visa. 

Cake for Breakfast

One of the benefits of teaching French high schoolers is that I get to act as a sort of cultural ambassador when it comes to all things America. And since no one is around to supervise or check my facts, the full weight of the U.S.'s rich history falls on my broad, awkwardly hairy shoulders. 

At first, Thanksgiving came up almost by accident. I had extra time in the class period and decided to see how much my students knew about the tradition. Turkey, check. Indians, check. Mayflower, impressive, check. I found that my own knowledge of Thanksgiving wasn't too far off from theirs. 

"O were ze pilgrims?" What is this kid, a journalist? "Ummm." I racked my brains for something useful from A.P. American History... 

During my lunch break I printed out a short, digestible history of the pilgrim's voyage--which served as the very loose structure for my talk. Along the way I probably embellished some stuff. I'm still not even sure if the Puritans were leaving England or ruling it. What matters is that I said it with conviction. The following is an excerpt from my talk on Thanksgiving:

"OK. So the year is...Well, it's the 1600's. A hundred years earlier Christopher Columbus had discovered America on behalf of Spain and he was just rolling in the doubloons. Things are happening in England and there's a religious reformation under...ummm...King Charles...the...first. Let's say first. So this group of religious separatists flee on the Mayflower from Plymouth England. It's half Puritans and half people seeking land ownership. Do we understand that? People were basically telling themselves, 'there's this big old country that's full of land and I can just take a boat ride, put up a fence and bingo, I'm a home owner.' So 66 days later they land on the coast of Massachusetts by accident even though they were aiming for New York. Can you believe it took that long to cross the atlantic? That's two months!"

At this point I'm interrupted by a curious student who, reading along, asks, "Zo, zey named dis new place 'Plymouth' alzo?" 

"Yes. I know. It's really uncreative. They could have at least thrown a 'New' in front of it. But trust me, that's the tiniest mistake they made. For example, they arrive in the middle of winter and have to spend the next three months on the boat. Do we see what it says there? Half of them died! There's 54 left. It's like Game of Thrones. Can you imagine how depressing that must have been after two months at sea? So finally it's Spring and the pilgrims make contact with a Native American named Squanto who speaks English. Can anyone tell me what's weird about that interaction?" 

Silence. 

A girl finally speaks up, "ze knows english?"

"Yes! Isn't that crazy! Squanto was kidnapped by slave traders and brought to England, then he managed to learn English, and escape to London where he took an exploratory voyage back to America. It's nuts~! They should make a movie about it-"

[Time Out]. They did make a movie: It's very....90s. Also thanks to the magic of Disney films there was no need for Squanto to learn English, since, in the Magical Kingdom, all God's creatures speak Walt's language. 

"So he teaches them how to hunt and fish and grow corn and if you think about it, he's being pretty nice considering it was Europeans who originally kidnapped him. By that next season the crops come in and the mayor of Plymouth hosts a big celebration. This was basically one of the first and last alliances between Europeans and Native Americans. Things got pretty depressing like 50 years after that."

"What's it like now?  It's a lot like Christmas dinner here in France. You see all of your family whether you like it or not. It's also a pretty terrible time to be a Turkey since most families in America celebrate Thanksgiving. There's a lot of depressed Turkeys in November. You eat around 3 pm. Talk politics, watch football and then eat again. Then in the morning you have cake for breakfast. What's that? Yep, every family in American does that. It's tradition."

The 13th Tour

At the end of October there was an exhibition in Paris unlike any I'd heard of before. It was called "Tour Paris 13." Essentially, an old apartment building on the periphery of the 13th arrondissement was scheduled for demolition. In an imaginative twist of fate, a group of over 80 artists were assembled to individually design each abandoned room according to their own desires. 

The exhibit was free and soon became wildly popular. The caveat though: only 50 are allowed to enter the apartment per hour. And the exhibit is only open from 10am-5pm. This means that we had to get in line at 5:30 in the morning. I know, it's crazy. That's the kind of thing people do for for iPhone's or Beyonce tickets. Plus I was really sick. And it was raining. 

But, you know. I looked at myself in the mirror and I said, "Daniel. You're young. You're in Paris. And you've got the bone structure of a young Jay Leno. Get out there and enjoy some art."

So I did just that. The following are some photos I took. Because the work was ephemeral--literally in that it was soon to be demolished--the curators avidly encouraged photo taking. This was a strong, sort of postmodern twist on experiencing art that I really enjoyed. It made me reflect on the future of art, and how that future fits in to our growing dependency on handheld devices. 

What's also really interesting to think about is that people used to live in these rooms. At times, I couldn't tell if an artist was making a specific choice, or if some decorative element of the room was simply a vestige from the old inhabitant. It was weird!!

Since it was both a revelatory and silly experience I'm going to add commentary to the photos as such. Half will have sincere comments about the work of the artist, and the other half will be bad jokes in the voice of a hackie  Borscht Belt comedian circa the 1950's. Enjoy.

On line.

Facade

Facade 2

Interesting use of perspective and material. Impressive metal work.

This was the original poster for "The Parent Trap."

A piece entitled "Syria." Spray paint cans used to create missiles. The artists seems to be raising a parallel between war/art.

A wall made of doors that has no exit/entrance. Use of classic perspective focus.

When Drain-o simply won't get the job done...

"Dude. I don't think I'm feeling anything yet--woah!"

"Seriously Flubert, every time we play Poker your tell is really obvious."

This is something I would tattoo on my body if I didn't have severe buyer's regret

Awesome use of chalk. Self referential in depiction of urban decay.

My mom loves this show.

Pac-Man's cooler, French brother.

Great mix of mediums/textures.

This was runner up for back tattoo.

Die above your means

This is probably one of my favorite pieces in that it has a very succinct message. The use of soft colors clashed against the "noose-tie" is striking. 

"Can I haz contemporary art??"

This was in the basement as you exit and is just really fucking scary.