French lessons, events & trips
FRENCH LESSONS EVENTS & GIFTS
As a French learner, you probably already have a few go-to phrases you use in every class. Well, so do we. Voici* the expressions we use most at le nid* – from the everyday to the more, well, coloré*.
*Here are | *the nest | *colourful
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 6 of the Intermediate 2 level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
“À l’amour ?” j’ai dit, surprise. “Vraiment, Noëlle ?”
Nous étions assises dans un très beau restaurant, Le Procope, dans le 6ème arrondissement de Paris, en prenant nos apéritifs.
“Pourquoi pas, Leïla ?” elle a répondu. “J’adore l’amour !”
“Même après la rupture avec Roger ?” j’ai demandé.
“Oui, bien sûr ! C’est vrai que ça n’a pas marché avec lui, mais ça ne veut pas dire que je ne vais jamais avoir une autre relation amoureuse.”
“Ah, j’ai pensé que tu as déjà rencontré quelqu’un de nouveau,” j’ai dit.
Noëlle avait l’air un peu choqué.
“Qui a dit ça, Leïla ?” elle a demandé, en prenant une grosse gorgée de champagne.
“Roger, bien sûr ! Je t’ai dit que j’ai vu Roger l’autre jour, non ?”
“Ah bien sûr, oui. Tu m’as dit. Mais tu connais Roger, Leïla. Il n’est pas toujours totalement honnête.”
“Donc tu n’as pas rencontré un nouvel homme, alors ?” Je ne pouvais pas arrêter de poser des questions. Je savais que ce n’était pas bien, mais je voulais savoir si elle sortait avec mon professeur d’anglais, Simon.
“Je rencontre des hommes tout le temps, Leïla. Je crois que c’est grâce au fait que je suis australienne. Je crois que les hommes trouvent ça intéressant,” Noëlle a répondu.
“Les hommes français, tu veux dire ?” j’ai demandé. Oh là, là, je me suis dit. Tu es grave !
“Ouah, tu poses beaucoup de questions ce soir, Leïla. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?” Noëlle avait l’air un peu énervé.
J’ai décidé de changer de stratégie. “Rien, c’est juste que tu es mon amie et je veux t’aider. Je connais les hommes français très bien. Ils sont très différents aux autres nationalités, particulièrement les anglo-saxons. La langue n’est pas la seule différence entre les pays anglophones et francophones, tu sais Noëlle.”
Noëlle n’a rien dit pour quelques secondes et puis elle a dit: “Alors mon nouvel homme parle anglais selon Roger, c’est bien ça ?”
J’ai commencé à répondre, mais Noëlle m’a coupé la parole. Avec un grand sourire, elle a dit:
“Jean-Louis ! Bonsoir ! Viens vite ! Ta femme est en train de m’interroger sur ma vie amoureuse !”
Je me suis retournée et j’ai vu mon mari, Jean-Louis, qui s’approchait de notre table. Il souriait, mais j’avais le sentiment qu’il était vexé quand même.
“Viens, mon chéri,” j’ai dit. “Tu as l’air fatigué. Tu travailles trop. S’il vous plaît, monsieur ! Du champagne pour mon mari. Merci,” j’ai dit au serveur.
“Tout de suite, madame,” il a répondu, et quelques secondes plus tard, il a posé la coupe de champagne devant Jean-Louis.
“Bon, Jean-Louis, tu vas nous raconter de ta journée ?” a demandé Noëlle. “Ça suffit avec ma vie privée pour ce soir.”
“Santé !” il a dit et nous avons tous rigolé.
“To love?” I said, surprised. “Really, Noëlle?”
We were seated in a very beautiful restaurant, Le Procope, in the 6th arrondissement of Paris, having our pre-dinner drinks.
“Why not, Leïla?” she responded. “I adore love!”
“Even after your break-up with Roger?” I asked.
“Yes, of course! It’s true that it didn’t work with him, but that doesn’t mean that I am not going to have another relationship.”
“Oh, I thought that you’ve already met someone new,” I said.
Noëlle seemed a bit shocked.
“Who told you that, Leïla?” she asked, taking a big gulp of champagne.
“Roger, of course! I told you that I saw Roger the other day, didn’t i?”
“Oh of course, yes. You did tell me. But you know Roger, Leïla. He is not always totally honest.”
“So you haven’t met a new man, then?” I couldn’t stop asking questions. I knew it wasn’t good, but I wanted to know if she was going out with my English professor, Simon.
“I meet men all the time, Leïla. I think it’s because of the fact that I’m Australian. I think men find that interesting,” Noëlle responded.
“French men, you mean?” I asked. Oh my goodness, I said to myself. You are nuts!
“Wow, you’re asking a lot of questions tonight, Leïla. What’s up?” Noëlle seemed a bit annoyed.
I decided to change strategy. “Nothing, it’s just that you’re my friend and I want to help you. I know French men very well. They are very different to other nationalities, particularly the Anglo-Saxons. The language is not the only difference between English-speaking and French-speaking countries, you know, Noëlle.”
Noëlle didn’t say anything for a few seconds and then she said: “So my new man speaks English according to Roger, is that it?”
I started to respond, but Noëlle cut me off. With a big smile she said:
“Jean-Louis! Good evening! Come quickly! You’re wife is interrogating me about my love life!”
I turned around and I saw my husband, Jean-Louis, who was approaching our table. He was smiling, but I had the feeling that he was annoyed nonetheless.
“Come, my darling,” I said. “You look tired. You’re working too much. Excuse me, sir! Some champagne for my husband. Thank you,” I said to the waiter.
“Straight away,” he responded, and a few seconds later, he put the glass of champagne in front of Jean-Louis.
“Right, Jean-Louis, are you to tell us about your day?” asked Noëlle. “That’s enough with my private life for this evening.”
“Cheers to that!” he said and we all laughed.
Looking to improve your French vocabulaire*? There’s un petit mot* you’ve probably come across that will help you péter le feu. Literally translated as ‘farting fire’, this charming expression simply means firing on all cylinders or being in good form. (Don’t you just love the French?)
The word in question? Feu, bien sûr*.
Meaning ‘fire’, feu* is a handy word to know if you like cuisiner* or camping. But its uses don’t end there.
Here are a few to add to your repertoire. Or, si tu as le feu sacré*, you can explore the full list at your leisure.
*vocabulary | *a little word | *fire on all cylinders/ be in good form or health |*Fire, of course |*fire |*to cook |*if you have a fire in your belly/ if you’re very enthusiastic
Welcome to another 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.
This article has been swimming around my head for quite a few weeks now, and in preparation, I made a few notes.
Along with the words ‘passion’ (more on that later) and ‘teacup’ (that, too) was a very strange scratching in my handwriting : go with the hair of the arm. I knew exactly what I meant when I wrote it and was confident it would provide the backbone of this article, as well as add some imagery to this conseil*.
The reasons for the awkwardness of my note was two-fold. Firstly, I’d translated it from a French phrase I’d stumbled across a few years ago. Secondly, I’d never been able to remember the exact saying in French but I was sure it had something to do with flattening down the hair on your arm in the direction it grows, and was used to describe how we should pursue those things in life that come most easily to us. That is, going with the grain rather than against it.
It turns out I shouldn’t have been so sure. When I finally tracked down the saying, I found it had a meaning quite different to the one I’d ascribed to it.
Flatter une personne dans le but d’obtenir sa confiance.
To flatter someone with the objective of winning their confidence.
So, quite off the mark. Or was I?
A further exploration of the definition brought about this explanation:
Par définition, les animaux aiment être caressés, ils se sentent ainsi flattés et dignes d'intérêt.
By definition, animals like to be patted, they feel both flattered and worthy of interest.
The last part of this definition really resonated with this particular animal (moi*).
From the very beginning, aged ten, when I had my very first lesson, learning French made me feel good. There was something about it that I found so intriguing, as though learning these strange-sounding words would unlock a parallel world previously unaccessible to me. This feeling has never gone away. In fact, it has intensified. I’m sure many of you feel the same way.
It’s not so much that I’m flattered by French (of course not), or that it makes me feel worthy of interest, but there is something to be said about spending your time doing something you love. Simply put, it feels right. It indeed feels like patting a dog the length of its coat in the direction of the growth of the hair (the French phrase is so much more elegant, non*?). There’s a therapeutic benefit to repeatedly caressing your favourite pet and I believe the same is true for regularly practising a skill you enjoy. It’s satisfying, calming and fun. And if you truly love it, it becomes so much more than that. It can inform your whole life, as it almost has done mine.
Our Chouchous* come to Lingua Franca for all sorts of reasons. The predominant one, of course, is the desire to learn French. Many assume the main reason anyone would sign up to French lessons is because they have a trip to France planned in the near future, but in fact, that is a relatively rare occurence for us. As I mentioned in a previous post, most people come to us because they did a little bit of French at school and loved it, and then their lives took a different direction and French just didn’t fit in. Years or decades later, they come to us, wanting to pick it up again.
We also have people who have never studied French before but have long dreamed of doing so. We have partners of French people who come to us to be able to communicate better with their loved one and their loved one’s family. We have people whose children have partnered with a native French speaker, and they want to learn French so they can communicate with their grand-children. Some people work for French companies where having a knowledge of French is of huge benefit not only to their careers, but invaluable in forging relationships with their workmates.
Then we have all the reasons that go beyond the acquisition of language. Keeping your brain healthy, doing something (anything!) that’s not work, taking time for yourself, challenging yourself to learn something beyond the scope of your current expertise. For company. For stimulation. For the laughs. For connection.
We’re often told by students that coming to French is the high point of their week. I totally understand that. As a person who has taken my love of French to the extreme, I live and breathe it. When you’re truly passionate about something, it’s hard to separate your work and personal life, and in fact, I don’t really see the point. Arbitrarily drawing a line down the centre of my life for the sake of ‘balance’ when my passion for language, culture and travel permeates everything seems pointless, even cruel.
That said, though, the true highlight of my week is my Saturday morning Philosophy lesson. I absolutely love it. I get to ponder life’s big questions in a slow and almost meditative way with a group of people who have absolutely nothing to do with my ‘real’ life. It’s so liberating. It’s like washing my brain every week. I walk out of there as light as a feather, and the bonnes ondes* last well into the evening and sometimes, if I’m lucky, roll into Sunday morning and beyond.
I’m not passionate about Philosophy, though. I just really, really like it. Unlike French, I very rarely race to a text to find out exactly what the Stoics were on about, or memorise a Marcus Aurelius quote. I just enjoy having the knowledge wash over me for the time I’m at my lesson. Occasionally I’ll give it some thought during the week, but sometimes not, and that is fine by me (and my tutor, thankfully). I’m not there to become an expert on Philosophy. I’m there to do something different and be exposed to some of the oldest ideas in history, which are almost all new to me.
Many of our students consider their French lessons the same way. It’s something very enjoyable they choose to do once or twice a week and adds an extra element to the life they’ve created for themselves. They may do French for a year or two, perhaps longer, and will happily let it go when it no longer serves them or they find something else that piques their interest.
Other students have a true passion for French. They’re easy to spot when you’re teaching them. They sit forward, eager for more and more knowledge. They ask questions. At times, they almost quiver with excitement. Their eyes are wide and bright and it’s wonderful to witness. These people never let it go, though the amount of time they devote to it may wax and wane over the years. It becomes part of their identity, and therefore is always there, patiently waiting in the background.
If you’ve ever been on Instagram, you’ve almost certainly seen an inspirational quote (or a thousand) about ‘filling up your teacup’. It’s the idea that we all have a limited amount of energy (our teacup) and that our teacup must be full before we are able to devote our time and energy to others. While a lovely idea in practice, I think many of us operate with sub-optimal liquid levels at times. It’s just part of living a modern life. I believe pursuing a hobby should feel like you’re replenishing your teacup, or at least maintaining the level. Which leads us in to the third group…
Luckily, this group is not a big one. It’s made up of people who have been dragged (or pushed) into French and found it’s just not for them. I feel sorry for them. You can tell they’re trying to put a brave face on it, but that there are about a hundred places they’d rather be at 6:15pm on a Wednesday night than at a French lesson. Others are people who thought speaking French would be like learning to ride a bike. A bit disorienting at first, a wobble or two and then there’s no looking back! Et en plus*, you never forget! Those of you who have studied French know it’s not like this at all. Learning a language is more like learning to play an instrument, with verb tables substituted for scales. And, as boring as it may sound, practice, practice and more practice is the key.
It is to this third group of people that this advice is directed. It’s frank but, for me at least, worth thinking about: if you don’t love it, don’t do it. If the idea of your upcoming French lesson hangs over your head all week and doesn’t get any better when you’re actually there, please let it go. Unless there is a valid reason why you must continue (and sometimes there is), go and do something that makes you feel good.
This advice is not a rejection. Hopefully if you’re doing French because you feel you should, it’ll feel more like a liberation. Life truly is short, and the bank of happiness to be mined so rich when pursuing something you love that if you don’t love French (or any other leisure activity for that matter), don’t do it. Your time is precious. Fill it with things that make you feel engaged, confident and as though you’re stroking your favourite pet dans le sens du poil*. Not against the grain, pricking your hand, stirring up dust, making you sneeze and generally leaving you feeling bad.
Next month: a few ideas on how to work out what you truly do love, if you don’t already know.
*piece of advice | *me | *don’t you think? | *Teacher’s Pets | *good feeling | *plus | *in the direction of the hair
If you’re a fan of La Nouvelle Vague* movement in French cinema, consider adding this lesser-known Truffaut film to your movie night roster. Released in 1964, La Peau Douce (The Soft Skin) failed to reach the critical and box office succès* of some of the celebrated French director’s previous films. Most notamment* Les 400 Coups* (1959) and the iconic Jules et Jim (1962).
But don’t let that put you off. Over the years, the romantic drama has improved its standing and is now considered among the best in his oeuvre.
Centring around an illicit affair, le film* stars Jean Desailly and Françoise Dorléac as the romantic leads. The older sister of Catherine Deneuve, Dorléac – shown in this stunning scene – tragically died in a car accident just two years later at the age of 25.
Intéressé*? Watch la bande annonce* here.
*New Wave | *success | *notably | *400 Blows |*the film | *Interested? | *the trailer
Located in the Morbihan département* on the south coast of Brittany, this breathtaking bay has it all. A popular year-round tourist destination, Baie de Quiberon* was the scene of several historic battles, including the Battle of Quiberon Bay (1759). Mais ne vous inquiétez pas* – today the slice of paradise is beaucoup plus tranquille*.
A popular destination for hikers, cyclists and nature lovers, the bay attracts hosts of tourists with its sandy beaches and charming Breton villages. And let’s not forget Quiberon’s famed niniches (sucettes*) and tinned sardines. We think you might need a bigger valise*!
Photography credit : https://www.destinationsdejulie.fr
*department | *Quiberon Bay | *But don’t worry | *Much more peaceful | *lollipops | *suitcase
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 the Intermediate 2 level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
Je suis sortie du métro Odéon et cinq minutes plus tard, je suis arrivée au restaurant. J’étais à l’heure. Le maître d’hôtel s’est approché de moi.
“Bonsoir, madame,” il a dit. “Bienvenue.”
“Bonsoir, monsieur. J’ai une reservation pour trois personnes au nom de Toledano.”
“Certainement, Madame Toledano. Vous êtes là en premier.”
“Oui, mon amie va arriver bientôt et mon mari va nous rejoindre plus tard.”
“Très bien, madame. Benoît, s’il vous plaît ! Madame Toledano.”
En suivant le serveur à notre table, je pouvais apprécier le décor du restaurant. Au cœur de Saint-Germain des Prés dans le 6ème arrondissement, Le Procope est le plus ancien restaurant à Paris, et un des plus élégants. Avec un grand escalier, de beaux lustres, des nappes blanches et une ambiance calme et raffinée, j’avais l’impression de me retrouver dans un autre siècle.
J’ai décidé de faire une réservation quand j’ai entendu les nouvelles de Roger que c’était fini avec Noëlle. Même si Noëlle sortait avec un nouvel homme, j’étais sûre qu’elle était un peu triste. Ce n’est jamais facile quand une relation amoureuse se termine, donc je voulais lui remonter le moral. En regardant autour de restaurant, j’étais bien heureuse de mon choix. Noëlle allait adorer ce restaurant typiquement français. J’étais sûre qu’il n’y avait pas ces types de lieux en Australie.
Quinze minutes plus tard, Noëlle est arrivée. “Je suis désolée, Leïla ! Mon métro était en retard à cause d’une manifestation.”
“Une manifestation à 20h du soir ? C’est étrange !” j’ai remarqué.
“Ah, je ne sais pas, Leïla. Peut-être que je n’ai pas compris l’annonce. Le français n’est pas ma première langue, d’après tout. Bon, qu’est-ce qu’on va prendre comme apéritif ?” elle a demandé, en changeant le sujet.
“Une coupe de champagne ?” j’ai proposé.“Ou bien un petit crémant ?” a dit Noëlle, “C’est moins cher. Malheureusement, je n’ai pas de mari riche comme toi,” elle a rigolé.
J’ai rigolé aussi. C’était très agréable d’être dans un restaurant avec ma copine au lieu d’être à la maison avec des enfants, en préparant le dîner et en faisant la vaisselle après. J’ai laissé ça à ma belle-sœur, Amina, ce soir.
“Noëlle, c’est moi qui vous invite ce soir. J’insiste.”
“C’est gentil Leïla et j’accepte avec plaisir. Deux coupes de champagne, alors, monsieur. Merci.”
“Je vous en prie, mesdames,” il a dit.
Quelques minutes plus tard, le serveur est retourné avec nos apéritifs.
“Voilà, mesdames. Deux coupes de champagne et des gougères salées en accompagnement.”
“Merci, monsieur,” nous avons dit, en même temps.
“Santé, Noëlle !” j’ai dit en levant ma flûte.
“Santé, Leïla !” elle a répondu. “À l’amour !”
I exited the Odéon metro and five minutes later, I arrived at the restaurant. I was on time. The maître d’ approached me.
“Good evening, madam,” he said. “Welcome.”
“Good evening, sir. I have a reservation for three people in the name of Toledano.”
“Certainly, Mrs Toledano. You’re the first to arrive.”
“Yes, my friend is going to arrive soon and my husband is going to join us later.”
“Very well, madam. Benoît, please! Mrs Toledano.”
In following the waiter to our table, I was able to appreciate the restaurant’s decor. In the heart of the Saint-Germain des Prés in the 6th arrondissement, Le Procope is the oldest restaurant in Paris, and one of the most elegant. With a grand staircase, beautiful chandeliers, white tablecloths and a calm and refined ambiance, I felt as though I’d found myself in anther century.
I decided to make a reservation when I heard the news from Roger that it was finished with Noëlle. Even if Noëlle was going out with a new man, I was sure that she was a little sad. It’s never easy when a romantic relationship ends, so I wanted to cheer her up. In looking around the restaurant, I was really happy with my choice. Noëlle was going to adore this typically French restaurant. I was sure there weren’t these types of places in Australia.
Fifteen minutes later, Noëlle arrived. “I’m sorry, Leïla!” My metro was late because of a demonstration.”
“A demonstration at 8 o’clock at night ? That’s strange!” I remarked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Leïla. Maybe I didn’t understand the announcement. French is not my first language, after all. Right, what are we going to have as a pre-dinner drink?” she asked, changing the subject.
“A glass of champagne?” I suggested.
“Or even a little sparkling wine?” said Noëlle. “It’s less expensive. Unfortunately, I don’t have a rich husband like you,” she laughed.
I laughed too. It was really nice to be in a restaurant with my girlfriend instead of at home with the children, preparing dinner and doing the washing up afterwards. I left that to my sister-in-law, Amina, tonight. “Noëlle, it’s my treat tonight. I insist.”
“That’s kind of you Leila and I accept with pleasure. Two glasses of champagne, then, sir. Thank you.”
Several minutes later, the waiter returned with our pre-dinner drinks.
“Here we go, ladies. Two glasses of champagne and some savoury puffs as an accompaniment.”
“Thank you, sir,” we said, at the same time.
“Cheers, Noëlle!” I said as I raised my glass.
“Cheers, Leïla!” she response. “To love!”
Last month, I advised a ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ approach to speaking French.
If you know anything about French, you know there’s always an exception, so here it comes:
The first time this advice was offered to me, I can’t say I took it graciously. My reaction may have involved me throwing down my table tennis bat, flouncing off en faisant la tronche* and slamming my bedroom door. In my defence, I was only 16, mais quand même*.
The year before, I’d been lucky enough to take part in an exchange to Réunion Island, a little slice of French paradis* located in the Indian Ocean between Mauritius and Madagascar. I’d been learning French since upper primary school and was in Year 11 when a group of about 40 of us left Perth for Singapore. After an overnight stay in a Mauritius hotel where we learned the word for cafards*, our very excited group landed at Roland Garros Airport in the capital of St Denis.
We were billeted out to families across the island and I absolutely fell in love with my host mère, père, deux sœurs et petit frère*.
In the car on the way from the airport to my nouvelle maison, my host sister Cécile said: “Je suis allée en Australie l’année dernière.” Though I’d studied the passé composé* at school and thought I had a handle on it, I managed to translate her statement to mean that she was going to come to Australia the next year. Proof that there’s knowing something academically and there’s really knowing it.
”Fantastique!*’ I exclaimed. “Tu vas rester avec moi*?”
Cécile looked confused, I was embarrassed and that pretty much set the tone for the next four weeks of my life as I struggled to communicate with real French people in real-life situations with my suddenly sub-par French. Néamoins*, I had a wonderful experience, my French did improve (even though I couldn’t tell at the time) and the next thing I knew, we were back at the airport, me in floods of tears promising to return the very next year. It’s been trente-quatre ans* and counting, but croyez-moi*, it’s going to happen.
Since Cécile had already been to Australia, we were to host someone brand new in return. Though I was disappointed to be denied the chance to resume my close friendship with her, I was secretly excited we’d be hosting un garçon* called Michel. Naturellement*, I thought we’d fall in love and live happily ever after and I could already see my future playing out as one half of a très chic* bi-cultural couple flitting between Réunion, Australia and France.
So when Michel and I took an almost instant dislike to one another it was a disappointment to say the least. I found him arrogant, he found me arrogante*. If he was têtu*, I was even more têtue. Let’s just say on n’était pas faits l’un pour l’autre*.
Our discord came to a head over la table de ping pong* and it’s a moment I’ll never forget. It’s also one for which I am forever grateful, as humiliating as it was at the time.
Part of my arrogance came in the form of the pride I took in my French. I absolutely loved it from the minute we started learning it in primary school. I’d worked really hard on it and was therefore very attached to it. Un poil* too attached, as it turned out.
Michel and I had not been getting on since his arrival. He annoyed me like a petit frère*, and I already had one of those. I’d whinged to Mum but she wasn’t having it, telling me it was my duty to be nice to him since he was a guest in our home (fair enough). She suggested I invite some of my friends around with their own exchange students to dilute the intensity a bit, which I promptly did.
We all decided to play table tennis and though this should have been a safe choice of activity, unfortunately both Michel and I were blessed with l’esprit de compétition* and our bickering soon reached a climax.
I can’t remember if this played out in French or in English but I clearly remember Michel and I were on opposing sides of the net when he let out a stream of insults ending with words to the effect of “You think you’re so good at French but you try too hard and it sounds stupid!”. I was absolutely humiliated, my face rouge comme une tomate, my friends standing off to the side, mouths open, and the Réunionnais exchange students shifting awkwardly in their baskets*. Cue the bat slamming, flouncing and sulking for the rest of the afternoon. Oh adolescence, how I miss you!
I hate to admit it, but he was right.
We all know how hard it is to get our mouths around French pronunciation at first, and it can continue to be difficult for quite a long time. There are sounds in French that just do not exist in English, such as the infamous ‘r’ as well as the nasal vowels. Then of course they have words like écureuil*, which seem designed to destroy us.
Additionally, our French teacher in high school had told us to really exaggerate the ‘r’ at first, which is advice I still give to our students when they’re first introduced to it (merci, Mlle MacPherson*!). I’d just forgotten the second part of her advice which was to back off a touch once we’d mastered producing the sound.
So the advice to ‘stop trying so hard’ is valid, but may not apply to you if you’re still relatively new and trying to get your mouth (and head) around French pronunciation. However, if you’ve been at it a while, and it still feels like you’re making an enormous every time you open your mouth to speak French, see if taking it down a notch yields better results.
I know I used to think I had to try really hard to produce a French accent and try I did. Too much, as it turned out. It was only in making a concerted effort learn the rules of French pronunciation (and there are plenty of resources to help with that) that I had the confidence to back off a little.
If you think about it, we don’t have to make an effort when we speak English because we’re really comfortable with the sounds we need to make. In fact we don’t even think about it. The same is true for French people. They’re never trying to sound French, they just do. And that’s because they’ve mastered the required sounds.
Turn on French radio or watch the French news and you’ll soon notice that some people sound very obviously French, whereas others appear to have a softer accent. When I realised that, despite their differences, they were all native French speakers, j’ai eu un déclic* which seemed to give me permission to tone it down a bit. Not all French people sound like a Pepe Le Pew, I realised.
If you do the work of learning the pronunciation, you’ll see there are actually fewer variations than you might think. French pronunciation is one of the few areas of the language that is, in fact, not riddled with exceptions. The same sounds come up time and time again, but are just spelled differently (think of the ‘o’ in ‘tomate’, the ‘eau’ in ‘bateau’ and the ‘au’ in ‘jaune’ - they’re all the same sound). Learn to group these sounds together, and the whole exercise will seem more manageable. Those of you who have done our Absolute Beginner series of workbooks will have been shown this, but it never hurts to go back to the basics with fresh eyes and to have a go at mapping it out for yourself.
Next, practise, practise and practise some more (flashcards are great for this) and be gentle on yourself. It will most likely get worse before it gets better. Then, just when you reach the point where you’re about to self-combust with all the effort, give yourself a break.
Try slowing down and softening your delivery a little and you may well be surprised find your pronunciation sounds more fluid and gentle, and somewhat counterintuitively, even more French.
*sulking *but even so *paradise *cockroaches *mother, father, two sisters and little brother *new house *I went to Australia last year *past tense *Fantastic *Are you going to stay with me *Nevertheless *thirty four years *believe me *a boy *Naturally *very chic *arrogant *pig-headed *we weren’t exactly made for one another *the table tennis table *A touch *little brother *the competitive spirit *red as a tomato *squirrel *trainers thank you, Miss MacPherson *I had a Eureka moment
Dreaming of a Christmas that’s white rather than white-hot? Maybe it’s time to start planning a festive trip to France next December. While there’s no guarantee of a blanket (or even a dusting) of neige*, there’s no shortage of Hallmark movie-worthy Marchés de Nöel* that will have you feeling the joys of the season.
Behold two lists of the best French Christmas markets to add to your itinerary. Le Figaro’s 2022 round-up is in French if you’re up for a challenge. But there’s also another option en anglais* if you’ve already checked out for the year – we can’t say we blame you!
*snow |*Christmas markets |*in English
Ian Phillips Esq came to Lingua Franca in Term 2 of 2022 and let's just say, le nid* has never been le même*! A true personnage*, Ian has a way of using his absolute beginner vocabulary to highly comic effect. One can only wonder what he'll be able to produce when he's un peu plus avancé*. Merci, Ian, for the sense of humour you bring to your lessons, your enthousiasme* but most of all your unmitigated joie de vivre*.
PS Belle photo*!
When I was eight years old, and all the other boys wanted to be policemen and firemen, I pronounced that I wanted to be an international lawyer. Why? Because they have to speak French, of course. Fast forward 40 years and I may not have fulfilled the lawyer part, but I can at least learn French!
I received a gift voucher for Lingua Franca for Christmas 2021. So I began my French adventure in April this year, 2022. Give someone you love a gift voucher for a term of French Classes – it will get them out of the house for at least an hour a week.
Being part of a group class helps with any nerves you have. Everybody is in the same boat and everybody has that moment when things just ‘click’. I have been fortunate to have Julie as my teacher and my classmates are all lovely to see each week.
Without doubt, it is remembering the masculinity or femininity of words. Who/what/why made these decisions is of endless amusement and frustration to me. But as the French say, “un chat est un chat” (a cat is a cat).
Of course, it’s bouteille* (BOO-TAY)… because everybody should be shaking their bouteille!
*the nest | *the same | *character | *a little more advanced | *enthusiasm | *cheerful enjoyment of life | *nice photo |*bottle
With her silvery, mid-length locks and enviable wardrobe, Sophie Fontanel is a true style icon. The 60-year-old fashion critic, author and one-time Fashion Director of ELLE France has also amassed a 294, 000+ following as an Instagram star – thanks to artful mirror selfies showcasing her bold, intellectual and playful approach to personal style. And her online documentation of her transition to grey.
For this femme française*? Overt sexiness is out, as Sophie tells Vogue:
Ditto, crippling, vertiginous talons*.
But that doesn’t mean elle est contente* to shrink into the background. Her style is punctuated by an eclectic mix of vintage items, men’s clothing and designer pieces. And, of course, that hair – the subject of her bestselling book, Une Apparition*.
Another livre* is dedicated to her 12 years of celibacy, while she won Le Prince Maurice Prize for romantic literature in 2011 for her roman*, Grandir*.
Author, fashion journalist, influencer… Quite the modern-day slashie, non?
We can’t help admiring Sophie’s honesty, esprit* and positive approach to life – and ageing. Follow her stylish moves sur Instagram* or take a peek inside her chic Paris appartement* in this interview with Vogue.
*French woman | *high heels | *she is happy | *A Ghost |*book | *novel | *Growing Up| *spirit | *on Instagram| *apartment
While it might sound like a kind of vocal training best avoided by the lactose intolerant, this amusing French phrase has zero to do with dairy. And we’re betting you’ve even done it yourself – possibly during a trip to France.
Literally translated as ‘singing in yoghurt’, chanter en yaourt means fudging your way through song lyrics using gibberish and, most likely, bravado.
According to Wikipedia, it’s “une technique qui consiste à chanter en produisant des sons, des onomatopées, des syllabes qui font penser qu'il s'agit d'une langue réelle.” (Traduction*: a technique that consists of singing while producing sounds, onomatopoeias, syllables that make people think that it is a real language.)
The term can apply to any ‘fake singing’ but most often refers to attempting to sing in another language. Why not give it a go next time les paroles* escape you?
*translation | *the song lyrics
Step into any stylish home. and you’re likely to spot – or smell – at least one product from French fragrance house, diptyque. Founded in 1961 by trois amis créatifs*, the iconic marque* is a world-renowned purveyor of high-end perfumes, bodycare and home fragrance products. Including, of course, those heavenly bougies parfumées* (an ideal cadeau de Nöel*, if you still have some stockings to fill!).
However, it was fabric, not fragrance, that inspired Christiane Gautrot, Desmond Knox-Leet and Yves Coueslant to set up a bazaar at the bohemian end of the Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris. Here, the interior designer, painter and set designer sold their own textile designs alongside Indian incense holders, German paper lanterns and other exotic objets* from their travels.
The diptyque website explains…
The meaning behind the name? A reference to the store’s façade.
In 1963, the trio had the prescience to launch their first scented candles, followed in 1968 by a unisex fragrance, L’Eau*. According to The Perfume Society, “Soon, diptyque was scenting all the smartest homes in Paris and beyond – creating the trend for scented candles that we’re still obsessed with today, and carving out an identity with its so-chic iconic black lettering on a spot-it-at-30-paces oval label.”
Intéressé(e)*? Decouvrez* the range and read more about the popular perfumer – en français* or in English.
*three creative friends | *brand | *scented candles | *Christmas gift | *objects |*water | *interested | *discover | *in French
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 4 of the Intermediate 2 level.
*The Little Story | *The Prequel
Quelques jours plus tard, j’étais dans une petite boulangerie près de l’université quand j’ai vu Roger.
“Coucou Roger, comment vas-tu ?” j’ai demandé.
“Ah Leïla, super de te voir ! Tu vas bien ?” il a répondu.
“Oui, ça va merci. Je ne t’ai pas vu récemment. Tout va bien ?”
“Tu ne sais pas, Leïla ?” il a demandé. Il avait l’air triste, j’ai noté. “C’est fini entre Noëlle et moi. Elle n’a rien dit ?”
Choquée, j’ai répondu que non.
“Oui,” Roger a continué, “elle a rencontré quelqu’un d’autre.”
“Ah, non, Roger,” j’ai dit, “Je suis désolée, je ne savais pas.”
C’était étrange. Pourquoi Noëlle ne m’a pas dit ?
“Apparemment ils se sont rencontrés il y a quelques semaines et elle est tombée amoureuse tout de suite. Elle a dit qu’il est différent des autres.”
“Différent comment ?” j’ai demandé. J’étais curieuse, je dois admettre.
“Il n’est pas français, ça je sais,” Roger a dit. ‘Elle a dit qu’elle aime ça, qu’elle préfère sortir avec un étranger. C’est plus exotique, apparemment.”
“Ah bon? Je me demande qui c’est ?” J’étais surprise par ma réaction. Je ne sais pas pourquoi mais j’avais peur qu’elle soit tombée amoureuse de Simon, mon professeur d’anglais. C’est vrai que Noëlle a flirté avec lui quand nous étions au café ensemble. Je me sentais un peu jalouse pour être honnête qui est ridicule parce que je suis mariée !
“Je ne sais pas, Leïla. Bon, désolé, mais je dois partir. J’ai un cours dans 10 minutes, donc je dois me dépêcher. Super de te voir et à bientôt, j’espère.”
“Toi aussi, Roger, et encore une fois, désolée. Je suis sûre que tu vas trouver quelqu’un d’autre bientôt.”
“Tu es toujours mariée, Leïla?” il a demandé, avec un grand sourire.
“Au revoir, Roger,” j’ai dit. Il ne change jamais, j’ai pensé, et je suis allée à la caisse pour payer. Les hommes !
A few days later, I was in a little bakery close to the university when I saw Roger.
"Hi there Roger, how are you going?" I asked.
"Oh Leïla, great to see you! Are you going well?" he responded.
“Yes, I’m okay thanks. I haven’t seen you recently. Is everything going well?”
“You don’t know, Leïla?” he asked. He seemed sad, I noticed. “It’s finished between Noëlle and me. She didn’t say anything?”
Shocked, I replied no.
“Yes,” Roger continued. “She met someone else.”
“Oh no, Roger,” I said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” It was strange. Why didn’t Noëlle tell me?
“Apparently they met a few weeks ago and she fell in love straight away. She said he’s different to the others.
“Different how?“ I asked. I was curious, I have to admit.
“He’s not French, that I know,” Roger said. “She said that she likes that, that she prefers going out with a foreigner. It’s more exotic, apparently.”
“Oh really? I wonder who it is?” I was surprised by my reaction. I don’t know why but I was scared she had fallen in love with Simon, my English professor. It’s true that Noëlle had flirted with him when we were at the café together. I was feeling a bit jealous to be honest which is ridiculous because I’m married!
“I don’t know, Leïla. Right, sorry, but I have to leave. I have a lesson in 10 minutes, so I have to hurry. Great to see you and see you soon, I hope.”
“You, too, Roger, and once again, sorry. I am sure you’re going to find someone else soon.”
“Are you still married, Leïla?” he asked, with a big smile.
“Goodbye, Roger,” I said. He never changes, I thought, and I went to the cash register to pay. Men!
Many years ago, we produced a little travel phrase book in which we gave our three top tips for speaking French.
Those of us who have been lucky enough to travel to a French-speaking destination are well aware of the disparity between what we know in our heads and what we’re actually able to get out when put on the spot. It can be a deflating experience, but it’s entirely natural. If you think of a young child who is learning to speak, they are able to understand a whole host of words before they are able to get out their premier mot*. It’s the difference between passive and active knowledge and is also the reason we’re usually better at reading than writing. With passive skills, there is a lot of educated guesswork and context clues to help you, whereas when it’s up to you to actually produce language, you really have to know your stuff.
I think where many of our students become frustrated, though, is that they do indeed know their stuff. In fact, sometimes they know it backwards and yet are still unable to get the words out. This is where one of our top tips can really help you.
While we often apply the label of timide* to children, we’re less likely to characterise an adult as such. We’re more likely to call them réservé* or introvertie*. But we can all feel shy when it comes time to speak French in front of others. Avoir le trac* is completely normal.
One way out of this is to take yourself out of the equation. Pretend it’s not you who is about to say the words, but your French alter-ego. Adopting that character may strike you as silly at first, but that’s actually the point. You want to put some distance between yourself (the person who has les papillons au ventre* about speaking French) and your interlocuteur (the person you’re speaking to). Inserting une version française* of yourself into the middle of the conversation can sometimes turn what feels like a stressful situation into a fun one, if not a slightly ridiculous one, and that alone can help.
When we do have a bit of stage fright, it’s likely you’ll deliver your message in a hesitant, quiet voice if you get it out at all. This may prompt the person you’re speaking to to say ‘Pardon?*’ and if you’re like most of us, you’ll immediately assume you’ve made a mistake and probably clam up. However, they literally may not have heard what you said and are simply asking you to repeat it. So, if you’re able to gather un peu de courage* and tap into your inner Hercule Poirot, you may be pleasantly surprised by the sounds that come out of your mouth. Remember, when French people are speaking French, they’re not feeling as if they’re putting anything on or speaking in an exaggerated manner. It’s the same for us when we speak English.
And if this petit article* hasn’t convinced you to fake it till you make it, perhaps knowing the French have exactly the same fears about speaking English will. We’re not so différent*, after all.
*first word *shy *reserved *introverted *Having stage fright *butterflies in your tummy *a French version *Excuse me? *a bit of courage *little article *different
You may remember that at a certain time here at Lingua Franca two of our team were expecting babies within days of each other. On était tellement ravies* for Fiona and Josephine, of course, but their temporary departures left a very big trou* here au nid*.
Well, in great news, they're back, and here's an update on what Fiona's been up to. (Attention* Josephine, we're coming for you next!)
we were so delighted | hole | at the nest | Beware
Je suis de retour au nid!
I am back at the nest!
Il a un an et il marche déjà!
He is one and he’s already walking!
Il adore les petits Babybel.
He loves mini Babybels.
Il n’a jamais goûté encore. C’est trop salé.
He hasn’t tasted it yet. It’s too salé*.
Pas vraiment. Il dit “mamamamama”.... C’est presque “Maman”, non?
Not really. He says “"mamamamama"… It’s nearly “Maman*”, right?
Malheureusement non. Je n’ai plus assez de temps...
Unfortunately, no. I don’t have enough time anymore…
Oui. Nous sommes partis en famille pendant 3 mois, de juin à septembre.
Yes. We went en famille* for three months, from June to September.
Super. Je suis contente de retrouver tout le monde!
Great. I am happy to see everyone again!
Je suis au nid tous les lundis et mardis.
I am in the office every Monday and Tuesday.
Comme nous aimons bien manger, nous allons faire plusieurs repas de Noël avec des amis: le 24, le 25 et même le 26 décembre! ;-)
As we love to eat, we’re going to have several Christmas meals with friends: on the 24th, the 25th and even the 26th of December!
salty | mummy | as a family | students | Christmas
A fan of une gâterie sucrée* with your morning café*? Then might we suggest you tantalise your tastebuds with this Frenchly article on Paris’s best chocolatiers. Miam!*
A sweet treat | coffee | Yum!
If you’re searching for the perfect cadeau de Noël* for the history-loving Francophile in your life, we have just le truc*. France: An Adventure History is British writer Graham Robb’s lively and vivid exploration of the key moments, faces and themes of l’histoire française*.
Spanning events from the first century BC to today, it’s ‘A quirky, amused, erudite homage to France... ambitious and original' – according to the Times.
To read more glowing reviews or place your order, suivez le lien*.
Christmas gift | the thing | French history | follow the link
To say Simone Veil was une femme incroyable* is an understatement énorme*. Born in 1927, the Holocaust survivor and former avocate* was the first female President of the European Parliament – and a tireless campaigner for les droits de la femme*.
Most notamment*, as Health Minister she presented and successfully argued the passing of the Veil Act – the 1975 law legalising abortion in France.
Learn more about the revered political figure in this short TV5MONDE video. C’est inspirant!*
an incredible woman | huge | lawyer | women’s rights | most notably | It’s inspiring!
Looking to escape les touristes à Paris* in favour of a more exotic French-speaking locale? Un voyage* to the unique island paradise of La Réunion might tick all the right boîtes*.
Located in the Indian Ocean east of Madagascar, Réunion is a UNESCO-listed island famous for its active volcans*, incredible biodiversity, and fragrant, colourful cuisine.
It's a haven for adventure seekers – mais faites attention!* This très belle* destination has the dubious honour of being home to the most requin* attacks of any island.
Pictures: hellolaroux.com
the tourists in Paris | A trip | boxes | volcanoes | but be careful | very beautiful | shark