French lessons, events & trips
FRENCH LESSONS EVENTS & GIFTS
The Gabrielle Chanel: Fashion Manifesto exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria inspired us to do a bit of digging into her back catalogue.
For a period of time in the 80s, the Chanel brand was considered fusty and démodé*. The arrival of Karl Lagerfeld in 1983 quickly put paid to that, but what is so striking is that her iconic designs, many of which appeared for the first time in the 20s, feel so fresh and contemporary today.
Jetez un œil*.
*out of fashion | *Take a look
Here’s a very quick solution for you if the word for ‘who’ in French occasionally escapes you.
Listen to this three-and-a-half minute video by British humoriste* Bill Bailey and c’est promis* you’ll always have it to hand dans le futur*.
*comedian | *I promise | *in the future
A few of us went to see la version remasterisée* of Plein Soleil* recently, starring Alain Delon as the duplicitous Tom Ripley and Maurice Ronet as his favourite frenemy, Dicky Greenleaf. If the characters’ names sound familiar, it’s likely you saw the 1999 American remake called The Talented Mr Ripley starring Jude Law, Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Philip Seymour Hoffman and our own Cate Blanchett.
In the same vein and once again pairing Alain Delon and Maurice Ronet is the 1969 classic La Piscine*. The movie also stars the stunning Romy Schneider and an extremely young Jane Birkin (mother of Charlotte, wife of the inimitable Serge and the inspiration for the Hermès Birkin bag).
La Piscine is un film à huis-clos, meaning a movie that takes place in one location. Huis is a literary word for front door and clos means closed, so it is literally a film (or theatre piece) where the plot unfolds behind closed doors. Despite the languid beauty of the holiday home in the hills of the Côte d’Azur, there is a foreboding sense of claustrophobia which leads to mounting tension and culminates in a very uncomfortable scene in the titular piscine.
The plot is well-executed and there are some very strong performances, and as noted in the bande annonce* below, it stars four of the most photogenic actors ever, and for that alone it is worth a watch. Recommandé*.
Le film entier* is available here on Youtube.
Attention*: there are no English subtitles, so this is the perfect opportunity to simply let the language wash over you, si vous me pardonnez ce jeu de mots*.
*the remastered version | *literally Full Sun but called Purple Noon or Blazing Sun in the English title | *The Swimming Pool | *trailer | *Recommended | *The whole film | *if you’ll pardon the pun
Ils sont de retour*! The French series that epitomises what it means to be photogénique* is back for a second season on Netflix.
This time, the family is trying to extend their influence beyond le périphérique* so expect some tantalising glimpses of regional France, notamment* the uber-chic Cap Ferret near Bordeaux as well as a trip to a magnificent ski lodge in Les Alpes*.
The luxury quotient reaches its summum* when the family pulls out all the stops to try to win the business of the improbably named Daniel Daggers - a James Bond type who is the king of the UK luxury property market.
À voir pour le pur plaisir*.
*They’re back! | *photogenic | *the ring road around central Paris | *notably | *The Alps | *peak | *To watch for the pure pleasure of it
Some of you may have seen Paul Taylor perform here in Australia a few years ago when he served as the ambassador for Le Festival.
An Englishman who spent part of his childhood in France, he speaks French absolutely flawlessly, but as he explains in cette vidéo*, that comes with its own set of problèmes*.
Attention* - he uses the odd gros mot*, so be careful when and where you press play.
*this video | *problems | *Be careful | *swearwords
If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.
La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, the first chapter of the Intermediate 1 level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
Je regardais mon texte avec attention et j’écoutais Noëlle qui parlait (et parlait, et parlait) à propos de Roger.
“Il est juste tellement super, Leïla. On sort tout le temps, il adore faire la fête comme moi, il est drôle et il m’adore. C’est la relation parfaite !”
“Fantastique, Noëlle,” j’ai répondu. “Je suis heureuse pour toi. Bon, est-ce qu’on peut continuer avec les verbes irréguliers ?” Je faisais une leçon d’anglais avec Noëlle dans le café à l’université et je voulais continuer.
“Et est-ce que tu sais qu’on est allés chez ses parents pendant les vacances ?”
“Oui, tu as dit ça la semaine dernière…”
Mais Noëlle n’écoutait pas.
“Leïla, leur maison est énorme ! C’est à Deauville, au bord de la mer, et ils ont une cabine sur les planches, tu peux imaginer ? C’est juste comme Un Homme et Une Femme. Tu connais ce film ? Oui, bien sûr, tout le monde connaît ce film. Roger a dit que nous sommes comme Anne et Jean-Louis, dans le film. Incroyable, non ? Il est tellement romantique, Leïla. C’est le paradis pour moi ! “
Et c’est l’enfer pour moi, je me suis dit.“Noëlle, est-ce qu’on peut continuer avec la leçon ?” j’ai demandé.
“Ah, oui, bien sûr, Leïla, je suis désolée, c’est juste que je suis tellement amoureuse de lui. Mais bon, oui, on va continuer. Tu as du temps après la leçon aujourd’hui, peut-être ? Je peux finir mon histoire là. Tu connais Roger un peu, donc tu vas adorer mes histoires.”
“Ah, quel dommage, mais je ne peux pas, je suis désolée. Je dois rentrer tout de suite pour voir les enfants.”
“Ah, oui, bien sûr, Leïla. J’oublie tout le temps que tu as des enfants. Tu es tellement responsable.”
“Bon, on peut continuer ? On n’a pas beaucoup de temps.”
“Oui, bien sûr, Madame,” elle a taquiné.
J’ai souri, mais je n’étais pas très contente, je dois dire.
I was looking at my textbook and I was listening to Noëlle who was talking (and talking and talking) about Roger.
“He’s just so great, Leïla. We go out all the time, he adores partying like me, he’s funny and he adores me. It’s the perfect relationship!”
“Fantastic, Noëlle,” I responded. I am happy for you. Right, can we continue with the irregular verbs?” I was doing an English lesson with Noëlle in the café at the university and I wanted to continue.
“And do you know we went to his parents’ place during the holidays?”
“Yes, you said that last week…”
“Leïla, their house is enormous! It’s in Deauville, by the seaside, and they have a cabin on the wooden walkway, can you imagine? It’s just like A Man and a Woman. Do you know that film? Yes, of course, everyone knows that film. Roger said that we’re like Anne and Jean-Louis, in the film. Incredible, isn’t it? He is so romantic, Leïla. It’s heaven for me!”
And it’s hell for me, I thought.
“Noëlle, can we continue with the lesson?” I asked.
"Oh, yes, of course, Leïla, I’m sorry, it’s just that I am so in love with him. But, right, yes, we’re going to continue. Do you have any time after the lesson today, perhaps? I can finish my story then. You know Roger a bit, so you’re going to love my stories.”
“Oh, what a pity, but I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to go home straight away to see the kids.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Leïla. I always forget you have children. You are so responsible.”
“Right, can we continue? We don’t have much time.”
“Yes, of course, Madam,” she teased.
I smiled, but I wasn’t very happy, I have to say.
FLASH INFO* !
After more than 100 years, Vogue Paris has undergone a name change.
Continuer à lire*…
PS: Merci à Jillian pour le tuyau*.
*NEWSFLASH | *Read on… | *Thanks to Jillian for the tip-off.
Imaginez* if instead of learning French, we trying to get our heads around l’anglais* instead!
This is not as far-fetched as it may seem. Those of you who have done a trip with us to Akaroa in New Zealand to attend the. bi-annual French Fest know that the French explorers were only days away from claiming the Banks Peninsula as a colony before les Anglais* swooped in and planted the Union Jack.
According to this article from The Guardian, a very similar story could have been played our here in Australia during the height of the Napoleonic Wars.
Très intéressant*…
Nicolas-Martin Petit and Charles Lesueur were crew members of Le Geographe. They were among the first Europeans to portray the land, people, animals and plants of South Australia. Lesueur’s ‘Le Wombat’ was sketched on King Island, Tasmania. Photograph: State Library SA
*Imagine | *English | *The English | *Very interesting
Welcome to the first article in our new series: How to Learn French. Not just les rouages*, but tips on the attitudes and practices you can adopt to ensure your success.
WARNING: C’est long* - I’ve obviously got a lot to say on ce sujet*!
I used to think that success in learning French all came down to having a flair for languages.
While it is true that some people are naturally gifted at learning a second (or third or fourth) language and therefore may find the whole process easier, now, after 13 years of teaching French, I know it’s not the secret sauce so many are looking for.
The key ingredient is much less sexy. It is simply this: don’t give up.
As the owner of a French language school, I obviously have a vested interest in this topic. Our business relies on people turning up week after week, term after term and year after year. We try to make the experience of learning French as enjoyable as possible to facilitate this process, which is just good business sense, but to really get to the heart of the matter, it’s helpful to zoom out a bit.
Let’s take away schools like Lingua Franca, apps like Duo Lingo, where you live, your current circumstances, budget, work commitments, health and all the other complicating factors that can affect our ability to learn a new skill at any one time.
Let’s get back to tin tacks.
You want to learn French and you have one life in which to learn it (unless you’re a believer in reincarnation in which case you can take your foot off the pedal a bit).
My instinct, when faced with this kind of very clearly defined problem, is to tackle it head on. My thinking would go something like this. “Right, you’ve only got a certain number of years in which to achieve this goal, so best let’s get started straight away and work like crazy on it for the next few years so that in the not too distant future you’ll be able to look back across your perfectly mapped timeline and say: ‘I did it!’ ”
Though I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it at the time, I know that from the minute I realised I loved French at age 11, I was on a mission to ‘conquer’ the language. I wanted to get to the end of it, to be able to say “I’ve done it”. I know I’m not alone in this desire. I also know there will be much wiser people than me shaking their heads as they read this, wondering why I’d bleed this pursuit of all its fun, mystery and grace by imposing such a harsh timeline.
The irony is that it is the love of the language itself that leads many of us to gallop towards a perceived finish line. We’re greedy, gluttonous almost, for more and better and easier. I want to learn more words, I want to be able to understand better and why isn’t it easier to get the words out when I know I know them?
I’m now about to turn 50, so I’ve been learning French for almost 40 years, and I’m yet to conquer the French language. My timeline’s in tatters and about five years ago it finally dawned on me that there is, in fact, no finish line. Never will I reach the level of fluency I have in English in the French language. Never. It’s simply not possible. The day I realised that was not a great day for me.
Before you go and drop a lit match on your kerosene-soaked library of French books, let me tell you about what we actually see happen at the Lingua Franca offices, and what has been my personal experience as well.
With a couple of rare exceptions, the path to language acquisition is not linear. Depending on your personality type, you may very much wish it to be, but then how could we account for the potential clients we meet on an almost weekly basis, the majority of whom tell us a version of the following story?
“I did a bit of French at school and I absolutely loved it but then for some reason I didn’t or couldn’t continue it and then life got so busy and I just never got back to it. So now here I am, thirty-five years later and I’m really keen to get back into it but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten everything.”
Sound familiar? I’d estimate that two out of three of the stories of French we hear contain most, if not all, of the elements above.
So what’s the solution? Absent a dream run of French all the way through school, followed by studying it at university, a year-long exchange to France in early adulthood, weekly lessons at a reputable French language school as well as regular travel to France throughout the rest of your adult life, what is one to do in order to realise the dream of speaking French?
Again, the trick is simply to not give up.
There are so many impediments that can befall you and I am not suggesting that it’s possible to continue to power on with your French when they do. Illness, having children, financial difficulty, your favourite teacher leaving, moving cities or countries, ageing parents, fatigue, a general loss of interest - all of these things can befall us, and sometimes two or three at a time. I’m not suggesting that you doggedly pursue your French when the decks are stacked against you. What I am suggesting is that you find a way to keep a thread of French in your life, even if at times it’s as fine as a silkworm’s work. If you don’t, you risk never returning to it so that when, in ten years’ time, someone asks you if you speak French, you’ll be answering no, whereas your contemporaries (who didn’t stop) will be replying with a very confident “Oui, bien sûr !”
Looking back, I think that’s perhaps what I did, even though it wasn’t a conscious decision at the time.
I did have the beginnings of a dream run, at least. French in Grade 6 and 7 at my local primary school, then French all the way through high school, plus the extreme privilege of a four-week exchange to the French-speaking Île de la Réunion in Year 10. Then I had my first little bump at university when I decided to study Law and French just wasn’t on the menu at the uni I attended. To be honest, I don’t remember missing it too much as I was fairly absorbed with my move to the big smoke, my first serious boyfriend, a part-time job, and, oh yes, my studies.
Unsurprisingly, if we fast forward two years from then, we’ll find me studying for the resit of a contract law exam I’d failed, in the little flat in South Perth I shared with a girlfriend. It was summer holidays, stinking hot and there I was in my unconditioned bedroom trying to force the required information into a brain that just did not want a bar of it. A chronic procrastinator, I decided to reach for my old French book from Year 12 and it was when I cracked that text that it all came flooding back to me. The excitement, the mystery, the puzzle of a foreign language. Each page held a potential that any language lover will understand. What do I know, what don’t I? Why is that like that? Hang on, that can’t be right…oh yes it can. Oh wow! I get it!
A two-hour drive and a very tearful conversation with my uncomprehending parents and I was back on track, studying a Bachelor of Arts at the University of WA. As if making up for lost time, and very much against the advice of my course advisor, my first four units that year were French, Italian, Japanese and English. I even decided to go to TAFE one night a week to study Spanish.
Now two years older than my cohort and infinitely more worldly by my own skewed estimation, I was more interested in working and partying than studying. Though I did turn in all my assignments and attend most of my lectures and tutes, my head just wasn’t fully in it. I had not lost my love of language, but I hadn’t quite grasped what a blessing it was to uncover a passion at such a young age and the importance of treating it with respect. I’ll never forget one of my favourite French tutors, a gruff but cynically funny man, complimenting a couple of the weaker students in a tute on their progress and then taking a breath, looking directly at me and saying without a trace of a smile “And your French, Ms Waugh, is just getting worse”. I flushed with shame but only because I knew how right he was.
The end of my degree looming, with a decidedly average result transcript and no desire to teach, I was saved by my Mum, who saw that Qantas was recruiting flight attendants and a second language was a requirement. I applied, got in and managed to scrape through the language assessment and the next thing I knew I was on a plane to Sydney for training.
As language speakers, it was a requirement that 50% of our roster be made up of flights to the destination on the Qantas network where that language was spoken. So the German speakers would be up and back to Frankfurt, the Thai speakers would go to Bangkok, the Spanish speakers were sent to LA and we French speakers would be sent to London as there were no Paris flights at the time.
There was a fair bit of resistance to the language speakers by some of the older crew members, who perceived us as ring-ins who only got the job by virtue of being ‘lucky’ enough to speak a second language. Therefore, we were only intermittently called upon to perform the tasks we’d been employed for: reading out the standard flight announcements in French, communicating any ad-hoc announcements as required and of course, assisting any French-speaking passengers who found themselves on our code-shared flight.
While I enjoyed reading out the French announcements while hiding from view in a galley, my speaking skills, through lack of practice, became so poor that the thought of being called upon to make an ad-hoc announcement about a diversion or a broken down catering truck was enough to ensure there was a constant pit of anxiety in my stomach before each flight. As for being asked by a fellow crew member to assist a French passenger or - worse! - being accosted by a real-live-French-person as I made my way down the aisle and not having any time to prepare - quelle horreur* ! I mean, I was okay if they wanted a glass of water (but still, was it d’eau* or de l’eau*?) but what if it was a medical emergency? So I watched, over the course of my 11 years with Qantas, as my French got worse and worse and worse to the point where if someone asked me “Parlez-vous français ?”, I’d answer ‘un peu*’ and slowly back away.
It wasn’t a linear decline. I’d have little blips where it would get better temporarily, whether by deciding to do a course on my time back in Sydney, or taking my annual leave in France, or buying a French textbook in my downtime in Singapore, but nothing really stuck and I started to consider my French as a skill I once had. As I write this, the fact that I went so close to losing the very thing that has turned out to be the most stimulating and sustaining thing in my life makes me very sad.
Though speaking French was an asset at my next two jobs as well, (public relations for women’s golf in Europe and manager of a French restaurant upon my return to Australia), it was still not enough for me to fully comprehend that French was the golden seam that ran through my life and was begging to be mined.
It was almost by accident that I started tutoring French on the side but when I did, the penny finally, finally dropped for me. There I was, thirty-six by now, adrift, working in a job I hated but needing some extra funds to pay my mortgage. At the end of my very first lesson, when the client paid me, I could almost have left the money on the table and walked out. I’d had an absolute ball and the hour had flown by. Sixty minutes of talking about French with someone who was as nerdishly fascinated by the language as I was felt like an indulgence, not work.
And then the race was on. As I gathered more and more clients I had to make sure my French was up to the mark, so spare hours were devoted to swotting up on my French in an effort to make sure I was a least a few steps ahead of the next person who called. I was in heaven, effectively being paid to study French and then share my findings with people who were as enamoured with the language as I was.
That was 13 years ago now, and I have worked with the French language every single day since. I guess you could say I’m in a bit of a purple patch, particularly when contrasted with the spotty treatment I meted out to my passion for the first three decades. As it turns out, I’ve stayed the course, which I put down to two things. One, my love for French kept drawing me back and two, a language is a very patient and tolerant object of affection.
This is what we see every day at Lingua Franca and in the language learning community more broadly. Yes, we’re all familiar with the rust that sets in when we’re not exercising our linguistic muscles as frequently as we should, but nothing is ever lost. Your language skills lay in wait as you go off in pursuit of your life. Yes, they’re layered over with newer, more relevant information for your current situation but the day you decide to dredge them up, they’ll be there, I promise. The rise to the surface may take weeks or months, but eventually they’ll all be floating on the surface of your mind and it’ll be like welcoming back old friends.
So if you see a dip in your learning on the horizon, or are blindsided by an unexpected chicane, just remember your French will always be there waiting for you and that your job is just to keep hold of that tenuous thread for as long as it takes you to correct your course. It’ll make your eventual return all the more joyeux*.
Next month: techniques to do exactly that.
*the nuts and bolts | *it’s long | *this subject | *what horror! | *of water | *some water | *Do you speak French? | *a bit | *joyous
For many, a love of language goes main dans la main* with an appreciation of fine stationery. There’s a sense of vast possibility in a blank page and a freshly-sharpened pencil that’s hard to replicate.
Imagine my excitement, then, when I came across the website of Papier Tigre*, une petite papeterie* in the heart of the Marais in Paris.
L’angoisse* soon followed, though, as I fretted that their gorgeous bloc-notes*, cartes postales* and crayons* would be unavailable to us, here at the other end of the world.
Happily, this micro-story has une fin heureuse* - Papier Tigre is available right here in Brisbane.
Bons achats*!
*hand in hand | *Paper Tiger | *a little stationer’s shop | *Anguish | *writing pads | *postcards | *pencils | *a happy ending | *Happy shopping!
*
C’est possible* that in recent times, I may have lightly mocked the Académie française* for its somewhat anachronistic tendencies.
Set up in in 1635 by Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister to King Louis XIII, its raison d’être* is to protect the purity of the French language.
It’s actually one of five académies, that fall under the auspices of the Institut de France*. While the Académie française is concerned with language, the others take care of literature, pure sciences, fine arts and the social sciences.
*It’s possible | *French Academy | *reason for being | *academies | *French Institute
There are forty members of the Académie at any one time, who are called the immortels*, since they are elected for life. So serious are they about this life-long tenure, that when Marshal Pétain was sacked for collaborating with the Nazi regime in occupied France during WWII, his post was left vacant until his death in 1951.
The Académie bears the responsibility for producing the dictionary of reference for the French language and let’s just say they’re not exactly rapide*. In 1986, work started on the 8th edition. By 2011, they were up to the letter Q.
In its nearly 400-year history, only nine women have been granted a seat, with the first, writer Marguerite Yourcenar, elected in 1980.
*immortals | *quick
The Interior of Académie Française
So, there are reasons for my failure to wholeheartedly embrace this institution. However, having just read this France 24 webdoc (brand new word for me in English, by the way), I am rempli d’humilité.
Fusty or not, the history and practices of the Académie française are so passionnant*, they deserve further exploration, and listening to Sir Michael Edwards, the first native-English speaker elected as an immortal, express his unbridled love for the French language had me racing to other corners of the internet to see what I could find.
Below, a list of my favourite anecdotes*.
*truly humbled | *interesting
In their excitement to publish the first edition of the official dictionnaire français*, a very important word was somehow omitted: Français (French). Incroyable, non*?
Each immortel is required to foot the bill for their own l’habit vert*, a black or navy blue jacket embroidered with green laurel leaves. No uniform being complete without a sword, bien sûr*, their next job is to commission one, replete with symbolic flourishes and in some cases, jewels. One immortel, Amin Maalouf, said that his induction cost him in the region of $230,000. Luckily for French writer, poet and dramatist, Jean Cocteau, he had a benefactor in Coco Chanel, who gifted him a 2.34 carat emerald (above) which formed the centre of his lyre. Who was charged with putting it all together? None other than la Maison Cartier.
Most people hate public speaking, but imagine the pressure of having to write a eulogy for the immortel you’re replacing and deliver it in front of 39 masters of the French language. C’est le pompon*! Eight days later, if all goes to plan, a reception is held for the new member to welcome him (or occasionally her) to the fold. Things did not quite go to plan for Georges de Porto-Riche. His eulogy was deemed unsatisfactory, he refused to rewrite it and consequently, he was not afforded a reception. Maybe not the best work début* in the history of the world.
Occasionally, the Académie’s rigid adherence to existing rules means they run the risk of impeding the free use of the language. A recent controversy was kicked off when Lionel Jospin’s government began using la ministre instead of the official le ministre to refer to a female minister. The Académie was not impressed and insisted upon the traditional use of the masculine noun for a minister of either gender. In 2017, 77 linguists retaliated with an opinion column to denounce the “incompetency and anachronism”. Today, use of either form remains highly controversial. Quel cauchemar*.
*French dictionary | *Incredible, isn’t it? | *green outfit | *of course | *It takes the cake | *start | *What a nightmare
If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.
La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, the final chapter of the Beginner Revision level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
"Leïla, est-ce que vous pouvez rester cinq minutes après la classe aujourd'hui, s'il vous plaît ?" Simon a demandé.
J'ai rougi. Quelle honte ! Simon a rendu nos essais au début de la classe et j'ai vu la mauvaise note tout de suite.
"Oui, bien sûr," j'ai dit, d'une petite voix.
Cinquante minutes plus tard, j'étais toute seule avec mon professeur d'anglais, Simon. "Leïla, si je comprends bien, vous avez un tuteur pour améliorer votre anglais, c'est vrai ?"
"Oui," j'ai répondu.
"Bon," il a dit, et puis il a demandé "et comment ça va ?"
"Évidemment, pas très bien !” j'ai dit.
Simon a rigolé, et puis il a dit: “Leïla, vous savez bien que je voudrais vous donner des cours supplémentaires, non ?"
"Oui, et c'est très gentil de votre part, mais je ne peux pas accepter. En fait, j'ai une autre option: une femme australienne qui s’appelle Noëlle. Elle parle couramment et elle est très sympa, donc vous allez voir une différence très bientôt, Simon.”“D’accord, Leïla, mais l’offre tient toujours. Je m’intéresse beaucoup à votre progrès.”
J’ai dit merci à Simon et je suis parti pour trouver Noëlle.
Elle était toute seule à une table au café et elle a souri quand elle m’a vu.
“Leïla, salut ! Comment vas-tu ? Viens ici, tu veux un café ?”
“Non, merci, c’est gentil. Je ne vais pas rester longtemps. J’ai beaucoup de travail à faire,” j’ai dit sérieusement.
“Ça va, Leïla ? Tu es stressée ? Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?”
“J’ai reçu une mauvaise note pour mon essai d’anglais…” j’ai commencé.
“…et tu veux mon aide ! C’est bien ça ?” Noëlle est très confiante.
“Oui, mais j’ai un problème. Je ne sais pas comment dire à Roger que je ne veux pas continuer avec nos leçons,” j’ai dit.
“Pas de problème, Leïla. Je peux faire ça.”
“Mais non,” j’ai crié, “je ne peux pas te demander de faire ça !”
“Leïla, écoute-moi. Je connais Roger très bien. On est amis. Je peux expliquer la situation facilement. Il va comprendre.”
“Ah, je ne suis pas sûre, Noëlle,” j’ai dit, ‘Ce n’est pas très correcte de faire ça.”
“Tu es trop sérieuse, Leïla. Roger est un playboy. Il aime faire des leçons avec toi parce qu’il veut te draguer, pas parce qu’il veut t’aider. J’insiste, Leïla. Je vais le faire.”
Timidement, j’ai dit ‘oui’ et j’ai dit au revoir.
Imaginez ma surprise quand deux heures plus tard j’ai vu Noëlle et Roger à une table au café, côte à côte, main dans la main, leurs lèvres collées. Amis? Je ne pense pas.
“Leïla, can you stay five minutes after the class today, please?” Simon asked. I blushed. How shameful! Simon gave our essays back at the start of the class and I saw the mad mark straight away.
“Of course,” I said, quietly. Fifty minutes later, I was all alone with my English professor, Simon. “Leïla, if I understand correctly, you have a tutor to improve your English, is that true?”
“Yes,” I responded.
“Right,” he said, and then he asked “How is it going?” “Obviously, not very well!” I said. Simon laughed, then he said: “Leïla, you know that I would like to give you extra lessons, don’t you?”
“Yes, and it’s very kind of you, but I cannot accept. In fact, I have another option: an Australian woman called Noëlle. She speaks fluently and she’s very nice, so you’re going to see a difference very soon, Simon.”
“Okay, Leïla, but the offer still stands. I am very interested in your progress.”
I said thank you to Simon and I left to find Noëlle. She was all alone at a table at the café and she smiled when she saw me.
“Leïla, hi! How are you? Come here, do you want a coffee?”
“No, thanks, that’s kind of you. I’m not going to stay very long. I have lots of work to do,” I said seriously.
“Are you okay, Leïla? Are you stressed? What’s up?”
“I received a bad mark for my English essay…” I started.
“…and you want my help! Is that it?” Noëlle is very confident.
“Yes, but I have a problem. I don’t know how to tell Roger that I don’t want to continue with him,” I said.
“No problem, Leïla. I can do that.”
“But no,” I cried, “I can’t ask you to do that!”
“You’re too serious, Leïla. Roger is a playboy. He likes to do lessons with you because he wants to pick you up, not because he wan’t to help you. I insist, Leïla. I am going to do it.”
Timidly, I said ‘yes’ and I said goodbye.
Imagine my surprise when two hours later I saw Noëlle and Roger at a table in the café, side by side, hand in hand, their lips glued together. Friends? I don’t think so.
Cette semaine* at Lingua Franca we debuted our brand new Club de Culture classes for our more advanced students.
Each term, we’ll focus on a different aspect of French culture and for Term 1 we’ve chosen le cinéma*.
The courses run over ten weeks and we devote each lesson to a certain acteur ou actrice* and their most iconic film.
Spanning the period just before the arrival of La Nouvelle Vague* all the way up to the present day, we kicked off week one with Brigitte Bardot in Roger Vadim’s 1956 film Et Dieu…créa la femme*, which marked his directorial debut.
With a wafer-thin script and some comedically bad fight scenes, the film nonetheless is credited with introducing le sex-symbol* Brigitte Bardot to the film-going public. An indomitable free spirit, we see her topless, shoeless, braless, pantless and even legless…but never helpless. It’s BB who holds all the power for the majority of the film, until, with a couple of violent slaps to the face, her young husband brings her to heel in what makes for an anti-climactic and uncomfortable ending.
The release of the film coincided with the beginning of the sexual revolution and eerily mirrors the love story between Vadim and his starlet wife, Bardot, which scandalised her conservative parents.
À mon avis*, Et Dieu…créa la femme still merits a watch, if only to marvel at Bardot’s unbridled sexual allure and to reassure oneself that, in the words of one of our students “les temps ont bien changé!*”
Interest piqued? You can watch the entire film ici*.
*This week | *the cinema | *actor or actress | *The New Wave | *And God…Created Woman | *the sex symbol | *In my opinion | *times have definitely changed
It may have occurred to you that moustache is a French word, but did you have any idea of the social significance it has carried throughout history?
Moi non plus*, but here's a little wrap up, thanks to the website of France Culture (one of the radio stations we recommend to students of all levels to 'get your ear in’).
Enjoy!
*Me neither
I’m pretty sure I’m not alone when I say that one of the petits plaisirs* I enjoy when travelling in a French-speaking country is a trip to the local pharmacie*.
There’s something about seeing products that I’ve long considered produits de luxe* being sold to le grand publique* at extremely reasonable prices.
There there are the petites découvertes* involving products we simply don’t have here. One such discovery took place a few years ago when we were on a trip to la Nouvelle Calédonie*. I’m a sucker for a good-looking label, so when I came upon my first bottle of Friction de Foucaud, I couldn’t part with my sous* fast enough.
It was only when I got back to the hotel that Deborah, whom some of you know, told me that it was a French product reeking of nostalgia in the vein of Quick-Eze or Vicks Vapor Rub for those of us who grew up here.
She explained that it was mostly used as a refreshing tonic in hot weather or as a quick and effective pick-me-up for those days that just seem to drag.
it was created in 1946 by Madame Lucienne Merle. Inspired by the climate she experienced living in French Indochina (now Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam) this secret formula, which has remained unchanged for 70 year, offered ‘sovereign relief from tiredness’.
Since its creation, and in an effort to penetrate a larger market, the range has been extended to include roll-ons, foot creams and thigh gels. Its popularity was given a boost in the 80s when tennis player Yannick Nosh extolled its virutes.
According to the Friction de Foucaud website:
”Vous serez séduits à votre tour en l’utilisant, par le mariage d’huiles essentielles de citron, d’orange, de thym, de romarin, mêlées à des extraits naturels de camphre et de menthol qui donnent à la friction cet effet rafraîchissant et énergisant.”
”You, too, will be seduced when you use it, by the combination of essential oils such as lemon, orange, thyme, and rosemary, mixed with natural extracts of camphor and menthol with give the friction its refreshing and energising effect.”
*small pleasures | *pharmacy | *luxury products | *the general public | *little discoveries | *New Caledonia | *cash
Gabrielle ‘Coco’ Chanel died on the 10th January 1971 and yet more than fifty years later, the designs from her eponymous maison de couture* scream her legacy.
Until the 25th April, we here in Australia have the chance to appreciate the enormous impact she had, not only on the way women dress, but on how they live their lives.
*Fashion becomes out of fashion, style never does | *fashion house | *More information here
Some of you may have already cottoned on to the fact that I am pretty passionate about the French language.
I started learning it at the age of 11 at my local primary school and right from that first lesson it was le coup de foudre* for me.
Nearly forty years later, I’m still learning French and about 13 years ago I set up Lingua Franca to teach other people this belle langue*. The Lingua Franca team has taught literally thousands of people and part of the reason we all love it so much is that while we’re officially the educators, what we learn from our students is like a rich vein of gold that we get to mine at each and every lesson.
As an Australian who learned French as a second language from one of the most remote corners of the earth, with no French heritage and little in the way of French culture to discover, I’m often asked by our students how I did it.
When I look around the office, though, it’s clear that I’m in no way different to so many others. My colleagues, all native-French speakers, are fluent English speakers as well. We have students we’ve watched become fluent and others who have come to us already speaking fluently. What we all have in common is that we took the first step, and then, crucially, kept going.
In this new series of articles, we’re going to look at how to learn French. Not the le, la et les* of it, but actually how to succeed in achieving the goal so many of you have.
So, gardez un œil* each month for our very top tips, drawn from the personal and professional experience of the whole team here at Lingua Franca: moi, l’équipe et nos Chouchous, bien sûr*.
*love at first sight | *beautiful language | *the, the and the | *me, the team and our Teacher’s Pets, of course
If you just can’t wait for the Alliance Française French Film Festival to come to town, there is a stop-gap measure available to you.
Délicieux* was released in Australian cinemas on 26th December and though it is still showing, ne tardez pas* if you’re keen to catch it.
A historical comedy starring Isabelle Carré and Grégory Gadebois, Délicieux tells the tale of a talented and passionate chef, whose mistreatment at the hands of a grandiose duke eventually leads to the creation of France’s very first restaurant.
Enjoy la bande annonce*.
*Delicious | *don’t waste any time | *the trailer
If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.
La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, Chapter 5 (of 6) of the Beginner Revision level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
“Tu ne parles pas beaucoup ce soir, ma chérie. Ça va?” a demandé mon mari, Jean-Louis.
”Oui, ça va merci, mon amour. Je suis un peu fatiguée,” j’ai répondu.
“Tu veux un thé à la menthe?”
“Volontiers!” j’ai répondu, surprise. Mon mari ne dit pas ça souvent.
Cinq minutes plus tard, il est entré dans le salon avec deux tasses de thé. “Voilà, Leïla.”
“Merci bien,” j’ai dit.
“Tu es sûre que tu n’es pas triste, ma chérie? Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
“Ah, ce n’est rien, Jean-Louis. Je pense à Roger.”
“Je vois,” a dit Jean-Louis et il a commencé à regarder la télévision. Il n’était pas content.
“Jean-Louis, Roger est mon tuteur, c’est tout.”
Il n’a pas répondu.
“Jean-Louis, je suis ta femme! Roger est mon tuteur, c’est tout, et il n’est pas très bon pour être honnête,” j’ai ajouté.“Leïla, ça c’était évident du début. Il est français. Ce n’est pas possible! Tu ne peux pas continuer. C’est cher et il n’est pas bon. Tu dois trouver une autre solution!”
“Tu as raison, mon chéri, je sais. En fait, je pense que j’ai trouvé quelqu’un hier…”
“Un homme ou une femme?” Jean-Louis était difficile parfois.
“C’est une femme australienne, si tu dois savoir. Elle s’appelle Noëlle et elle est très sympathique. Je ne sais pas comment je vais dire à Roger que je ne veux pas continuer, mais je vais appeler Noëlle demain.”
“C’est une très bonne idée, ma chérie. Et pour Roger, il doit savoir qu’il n’est pas bon, donc il ne va pas être surpris, je crois.” Jean-Louis a souri et puis il a dit: “Tu veux aller danser demain soir, Leïla? On peut trouver une babysitter pour les enfants et on peut sortir. Ça te dit?”
“Avec plaisir, mon amour,” j’ai répondu. J’adore danser avec mon mari et ce n’est pas facile de sortir quand on a trois petits enfants, donc j’étais très heureuse.
J’ai regardé mon mari et il était heureux aussi pour la première fois depuis longtemps.
“You’re not speaking much this evening, my darling. Are you okay?” asked my husband, Jean-Louis.
“Yes, I’m fine thanks. I’m a bit tired,” I responded.
“Do you want a mint tea?”
“Yes, please!” I responded, surprised. My husband doesn’t say that very often.
Five minutes later, he came into the living room with two cups of tea. “There you go, Leïla.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re not sad, my darling? What’s up?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Jean-Louis. I’m thinking about Roger.”
“I see,” Jean-Louis said and he started to watch television. He wasn’t happy.
“Jean-Louis, Roger is my tutor, that’s all.”
He didn’t respond.
“Jean-Louis, I’m your wife! Roger is my tutor, that’s all, and he’s not very good to be honest,” I added.
“Leïla, that was obvious from the start. He’s French. It’s not possible! You can’t continue. It’s expensive and he’s not good. You have to find another solution!” “You’re right, my darling, I know. In fact, I think I met someone yesterday…”
“A man or a woman?” Jean-Louis was difficult at times.
“It’s an Australian woman, if you must know. She’s called Noëlle and she is very nice. I don’t know how I’m going to say to Roger that I don’t want to continue, but I am going to call Noëlle tomorrow.”
“That’s a very good idea, my darling. And for Roger, he must know that he’s not good, so he’s not going to be surprised, I think.” Jean-Louis smiled and then he said: “Do you want to go dancing tomorrow night, Leïla? We can find a babysitter pour the children and we can go out. What do you think?”
“With pleasure, my love,” I responded. I love to dance with my husband and it’s not easy to go out when one has three little children, so I was very happy. I looked at my husband and he was happy as well for the first time in a long time.
Source : marieclaire.fr
Savez-vous que*…
La Bûche de Noël is the traditional cake served at Christmas in France. If you’ve been interested in French language, culture or cuisine for a little while, you may very well already know this. However, do you know the origins of this most recognisable of desserts français*?
Tradition has it that on the longest night of the year (le solstice d’hiver*), French pagans would burn an enormous log to stave off the freezing temperatures, bien sûr*, but also as an offering to the gods to ensure a plentiful harvest in the coming year.
While it’s unlikely you’ll want to recreate the heat of a burning log in our sweltering southern climes, you may wish to set yourself the challenge of making this spécialité hivernale*. Voici la recette* (it’s in French but if you need some help, just click on any term for the English translation. Bon courage!*
*The Christmas Log | *Did you know that | *French desserts | *the winter solstice | *of course | *winter specialty | *Here’s the recipe | *Good luck!