An 'Oh, French' moment

One of my friends was handing out our geography tests. With a look of understanding pity, he hands another of my friends her test with a F scribbled on top. "Pas terrible," he says, which I translated as "not terrible". Wait, huh? No detectable sarcasm about a test that was fairly terrible...
Flash forward to my host mom telling me about a walk and discussion she'd had earlier that day. "It was terrible," she tells me, with a huge grin.
"Hang on.. what does terrible mean?"
"It's like... good."
Yes, in french, the word terrible means good.

I need to stop getting thrown off by little things like that in French. But all I can do is sigh, think to myself in a tone of amused (and somewhat bemused) wonder, "Oh, French." And roll my eyes.

Living in history

We were discussing Belgian history in my geography class (which interesting in and unto itself, as I have a separate history class) a couple days ago and we came across the topic of World War II and how that influenced and changed Belgium. It was an interesting but relatively unremarkable conversation until the teacher dropped the phrase 'after the occupation.' Of course I knew that Europe was a major battle ground in WWII. Of course I knew Belgium had been occupied during World War II. But I hadn't ever consciously thought about it. And it threw me off. To imagine that this land, here, was such an integral part of the war took my breath away for a second.

Language has really come to define my life in these past nine months. I feel a lot more aware of the language itself that someone speaks. I'm not talking about the meaning that their words convey, I mean the physical way they speak, their accents, as well as an overall consciousness of what language is coming out of their mouth. It's a hard state to explain, but it's led me to remark different things: for one, how almost everyone has a different quality of voice when they change languages (some go lower pitched, some speak less gravelly, etc.). Or how I speak less than I used to in the US.. and how I speak less with my hands in French than in English.

The big two-five-zero

Today, February 19, 2011, makes 250 days that Belgium has not had a government. Because the French speaking region and the Dutch speaking region have different political views, they've always disagreed at least partly over the running of the government. And this year - well, 2010 - their differences have left them 250 days without a new government. It's actually a really fascinating situation, but to cut a long story short, the parliament needs to chose a prime minister because one doesn't vote directly for the prime minister in Belgium, and so far they haven't been able to so. Yesterday we claimed the world record, finally beating Iraq to 249 days without a government...

"St. Valentin"

Valentine's Day was quiet in Belgium. Couples celebrate it perhaps slightly less than in the US, but, unlike in the US, it's strictly couples. I rather enjoyed getting (and receiving) little cards or candy hearts. Speaking of which, I had all my Belgian friends taste the little Valentine's Day candy hearts, which my parents had set me. As they aren't necessarily known for being delicious there were a couple of people who found them not exactly to their liking, but plenty who found them fascinating - the text style writing was an interesting challenge for them. And handing out an american candy always draws at least somewhat a crowd.

Friction is my friend

I had my first experience with black ice this week. I've always heard of how dangerous it is, but never having lived it, I hadn't realized. Wednesday morning, I walked out onto a world that looked drenched - the road, the gravel, the sidewalks, they all looked soggy. As soon as I put my foot on any of said surfaces, I realized my mistake. It was all covered by a thick, slick layer of ice. Of course, the buses weren't driving in that weather, so I walked to school with an awkward almost penguin-like stride, fearing to take too large of steps or move to quickly and end up on my rear. I made it all 20 minutes to school without falling down, but I was glad to reenter the world of friction when I reached school.

Happy Crêpe Day!

They don't celebrate Groundhog Day in Belgium. However, on the same day as Groundhog Day, they have what they call La Chandeleur. I looked up the translation and apparently it's called Candlemas in English. Anyway, it's something religious, but I don't know the actual reason. All I know is that, as with Groundhog Day, it's a mark of 'from this day on winter is either going to come to a close or continue for another month (is it a month? or two weeks? or two months? anyway.)'. And, even better, it's a day to make, and eat, crêpes.

French in French for us non-French-speakers

After over 5 months in Belgium, I have finally started taking French classes. I started yesterday - six hours a week of French as a foreign language. They're night classes, so the general student is well older than me. I'd say late twenties to early thirties is the average age, if I had to guess. It's only been one class, but I'm already enjoying it. I feel like I'm going to improve, work on perfecting, my French. And at the same time, I think all my peers are going to be very interesting as well. I'm in a small class, so I have the impression that I'll be able to get to know them some - having the chance to meet people seems to be a secondary reason for more than one person to take the class. I'm curious to continue - tomorrow I have the second three hours...