La souris est vraiment sous la table!

Last night, I was reading a novel in a cafe in Montparnasse.  In the corner of my eye, I saw something move by my foot.  Almost unbelievably, I was in France and there was actually a mouse under the table.  I took a minute to realise what had happened - I was in a sitution where I could say la souris est sous la table!  The most seemingly useless, basic schoolboy French phrase was about to become useful.

When I was a little less stunned, I called the waiter over and said to him,

Excusez-moi monsieur, mais il y a deux minutes, il y avait une souris sous la table.

(Excuse me, two minutes ago there was a mouse under the table).

His reply was the perfect picture of French nonchalance:

Oui, il y’en a beaucoup à Paris.

(Yes, there are a lot of them in Paris).

With that he walked off, utterly unflustered, and I burst out laughing.  In my last week here, I am desperately looking for opportunities to say le singe est sur la branche (the monkey is on the branch) and la chat est sur la chaise (the cat is on the chair).  Perhaps trips to some pet shops and the zoo are in order.

Devant le trône du très Haut (Before the Throne of God Above… en français)

Devant le trône du très Haut
mon défenseur saura plaider,
cet avocat s’appelle amour,
il intercède pour moi toujours.
Mon nom est gravé sur ses mains,
mon nom est inscrit sur son coeur,
puisqu’il défend ma cause au ciel
nul ne pourra me condamner.

Et quand Satan me fait douter,
vient me tenter et m’accuser,
je lève les yeux vers celui
qui a payé pour mon péché.
Mon Sauveur était innocent,
sa mort me rend la liberté,
oui, Dieu le juste est satisfait
et il pardonne mon péché.

Voyez l’Agneau ressuscité.
Il est le Roi plein de bonté.
Non, il ne changera jamais,
lui ma justice, mon bien, ma paix.
En lui j’ai la vie éternelle,
par son sang il m’a racheté,
pour toujours ma vie est cachée
en Jésus, mon Sauveur, mon Dieu.

The Franco-Americain issue, a weekend in Nantes et La Guerre des Etoiles

My time studying in Paris is moving on, I only have a week and a half left.  I am having a tremendous time and my French has, I hope, improved a lot; but studying French in Paris is nonetheless a frustratingly Anglophone experience.

The university is (over the summer) full of Americans.  Probably 80% of the students here are American, 10% are Chinese, and the rest are randoms comme moi.  Although I am studying French in France, if you never left the campus, it would be no different to studying French in Florida.  The vast majority of the campus population is American, which means that apart from in class (where you only hear French) everyone on campus speaks English with each other.  While I have nothing against my US classmates, I did not come to Paris to spend a month speaking English; so, outside of class-time, I don’t tend to hang around the campus.

In Paris, you really have to make a big effort to immerse yourself in French.  English is everywhere in the city.  In the tourist areas, all the French staff speak English and, if they know you are not French, will speak only English to you.  So, if you want to speak French rather than English, do not hang around the tourist places.

Pursuing total immersion is probably easier for me than my American classmates because I am the only Scot (or even Brit, as far as I know) on the course.  If I was one of 400 Scots, it would be a complete cauchemar.  The natural thing would be to speak English to my countrymen.  Thus I am glad to be the only Scot.

Alors, I spent last weekend with my friend David McFarland in Nantes, which was great.  I spoke for a few minutes at the morning service in the Eglise Reformée Evangélique, which was fun in a scary kind of way.  Every so often, when speaking French, I have a tendency to overpronounce the end of words - which changes their meaning from masculine to feminine.  Par example,

Je suis écossais - I am a Scotsman

Je suis écossaise - I am a Scotswoman

or,

Je suis étudiant - I am a (male) student

Je suis étudiante - I am a (female) student

I am getting better at not accidentally speaking about myself in feminine terms, but it takes a lot of effort!  Anyway, I think I introduced myself to the congregation as a (male) student who is also a Scot(sman), and told them about what is happening in St Columba’s over the summer.  It was great to be with the folks there, and see a Reformed Presbyterian church plant in France.

Public transport here is very good.  The TGV (Train à Grand Vitesse) gets you from Paris to Nantes (about 400 kilometers) in two hours.  This weekend I am heading south to Lyon (470 kilometers); again the journey is just under two hours. 

On the train to Nantes, I read the French version of Star Wars (La Guerre des Etoiles).  It is not exactly Molière, but it is a story I know well in English, which makes the French version easier to navigate.  Strangely, the French Darth Vader is called Dark Vader (presumably the English name makes him sound more menacing, as does the German-sounding ‘Darth’ to our Anglophone ears).  R2D2 is called D2R2, and C-3PO s’appelle 6-ZPO.  I love how Han Solo is Yan Solo, as though he is Breton. 

Anyway, enough Star Wars related rambling.  There were a couple of times over the weekend where, when switching back to English, I unconsciously expressed myself in a really French way.  I was speaking to an American (in English) on Friday night, which was the first English I had spoken in a couple of days, and I introduced myself to him with, “I call myself James”.  It was very embarassing but quite funny.  I think he thought I was French with bad English.  Later on in the conversation I told him, “next week I am returning in Scotland”, which again does not make sense in English, but is very French.

This Thursday, my university has a fête nationale where international students have the opportunity to perform music from their own countries.  I am going to sing a couple of Gàidhlig songs; probably a version of Hug air a’ Bhonaid Mhoir (by Julie Fowlis) and something from Og-Mhadainn Shamraidh by Kathleen MacInnes (s docha Duthaich MhicAoidh?  Chan eil fhios agam fhathast).  It should be fun!

Pictures from Paris

In the Jewish quarter you can find kosher pizza and ‘Judaism for Idiots’…

In Le Train Bleu, a restaurant in the Gare de Lyon.  This was delicious!

A creative picture taken by Eilidh…

Le 14 juillet

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7505136.stm

Yesterday was la fête nationale here in Paris, and I have to say, the fireworks display was absolutely stunning.  There was a huge, free open air concert in front of the Eiffel Tower, which I went to with friends from church.  It was funny coming to Paris and seeing James Blunt and Rihanna perform live: it is like going to Lyon (food capital of France, where you find all the finest cuisine) and ending up with a Big Mac and Chicken McNuggets.  Anyway, after Blunt’s sublime rhyming (I saw your face in a crowded place…my love is pure of that I’m sure) had given me the opportunity to explain the concept of cheesy to my French friends, there was some great French music, singers accompanied by a big orchestral band and so on.  Très bien.

The music continued until it got dark, and which point the Eiffel Tower was lit up with a stunning fireworks show (accompanied by various rousing classical pieces followed by La Marseillaise).  I took lots of pictures with my camera phone, but they are all a bit grainy.

On the food front, this morning en route to class I found a small boulangerie that sells two fresh, hot croissants or pains au chocolat for one euro.  That is about 65 pence for two delicious pastries.  In Scotland you would pay about £2.50 for the same thing.

Also, this morning in class we were learning various common idioms and expressions.  I love this one:

Le téléphone ce n’est pas pour les chiens!

(Literally: the telephone is not for dogs).

One should use this after trying to phone someone who never answers.  In effect, it means something like; you are a human, not a dog, and phones are for humans.  So answer your phone!!!

Excellent gastronomic discoveries in Paris

Today is the 14th of July, known by the Anglophone world as Bastille Day, and by the Francophonie simply as le 14 Juillet. It is a national holiday in remembrance of the taking of the Bastille in 1789. There is a huge fireworks display in the middle of Paris which I plan to watch with some friends from church.

Some observations from the last few days:

1) In France, you can get an ice lolly (much like a Magnum, but by a French manufacturer) that is crème brûlée flavoured. Quite simply, it is the greatest ice lolly I have ever eaten.

2) The Christian world is so incredibly small. I went to the evening service at l’Eglise Evangélique Baptiste de Paris last night. After the service I got chatting to the chap I had sat next to. It turned out he is an American medical student who studies in Boston and worships in a PCA Church there. It took about two minutes to establish people we both knew (or knew of). I had the same experience after the morning service at Eglise protestante évangélique des Ternes, where I met a French guy with friends at IPC Memphis.

3) On the food theme again, Paris is generally very expensive unless you know the right places to look. I am staying in the middle of rue de Vaugirard; floating between the very expensive 6th arrondissement (centred on the amazing Luxembourg Gardens) and the less expensive 7th arrondissement (Montparnasse). By heading to the 7th rather than the 6th, I can get a decent lunch of mussels and potatoes every day for little over £2. The food here, even the cheap stuff, is so good. Comparing the cost of wine is interesting too. In the UK, a bottle of basic table wine costs about £4. In France, the same product costs around 2 Euros (£1.60).

4) I met a Breton speaker last week, which was very interesting. Although Gaelic and Breton are not mutually intelligible, it is amazing how many of the most common nouns have remained, even to this day, virtually identical.

5) Sounding authentic in French, as with any language I suppose, is really all about the way you hold your mouth. In French, they call it la moue. It is a kind of pout with a very French je ne sais quoi. Anyway, after church last night, someone asked me, tu a faim? (Are you hungry?) My response was, non, je suis content (No, I am fine) which I said whilst pulling a massive, and entirely unintentional, moue. The girl standing next to me immediately burst out laughing. Apparently my facial expression was a bit OTT, a bit too French even for the French.

6) It is very funny to see how the French like to use English words. I am in an internet cafe in Montparnasse just now. Across the street is a restaurant called Eat Japan. Now there is a challenge for the big mouthed! You also see the opposite of the French word dropping in the UK. In Britain, if you want to sound all chic and stylish, you drop in a French word or two. Ooh, this wine is nice. It has that je ne sais quoi, that pomme de terre, that cul de sac. Here, you see some people (and a lot of shops) doing the same, but with English words.

7) In the French version of the film Terminator, Arnold Schwartzenegger (even when dubbed into French) retains his Austrian accent. C’est vraiment bizarre.

8 ) I am finally getting used to the bise - the normal French way of greeting each other with a kiss on each cheek. This morning I watched the military parades along the rue de Rivoli; it was very funny to watch soldiers greet each other with a peck on each cheek afterwards. (Also, I found their singing very impressive and, in a strange way, intimidating). Back to les bises, it is actually quite nice when the person on door duty at church literally greets you with a holy kiss.

Anyway, time to stop.

à la prochaine!

When language learning makes your head hurt…

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon, I have a three hour long conversation class.  Without fail, this class gives me a headache.  I enjoy the class but it literally makes my head hurt.  I should say that it is not listening to French itself that makes my head hurt.  I am reasonably comfortable to listen to French all day.  The language is not the problem. 

The thing that gives me headaches is trying to understand French when it is spoken with a thick Mexican Spanish/Vietnamese/Castillian Spanish/Japanese/Korean/(insert non-Francophone nationality) accent!  Trying to follow a conversation with two people, who are both speaking French with the accent, intonation and rhythm of, for example, Korean and Mexican Spanish, really hurts la tête.

I have also come to realise, however, that I have an accent too - je parle français avec un accent écossais. 

There are a couple of Italians in the conversation class - their French is incredibly clear, and has all the gorgeous rhythm and intonation of their own language.  Scandinavians usually speak very clear French as well.  There is a Pole in the class who speaks with an amazing French accent.

Learning another language is such a good exercise for a preacher.  It gives you a forceful reminder of the need for clarity.  If you are trying to share the gospel with someone, but your speech is generally unclear (be that through bad diction, a particularly thick accent or poor choice of words), it won’t work.  I can quite see why Spurgeon recommended that if you want to improve your preaching, you should learn another language.

Salut de Paris!

Bonjour a tous! 

I am currently in Paris on a month long intensive French language immersion course.  I am now into my second week.  It has been great so far - the chance to speak and hear nothing but French all day is superb.  I am learning a lot of new vocabulary and hopefully my accent is improving.

I’ve seen a lot of the touristy stuff, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Montmartre, the Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame etc.  Paris is a beautiful, but incredibly expensive, city. 

Points of interest thus far:

1) Paris is full of Americans.  Everywhere you go, you hear American English being spoken.  In my class of seventeen students, fourteen are American.  I am seriously worried that after a month brushing up my French in Paris, I will speak it with a Mississippi accent.  Trying to find an actual Parisien (or just a non-American) in Paris is like trying to find a non-Pole in Leith.

2) While in the Musée d’Orsay, I was looking at the Toulouse Lautrec originals when two very loud tourists next to me said the following (bold added to emphasise their drawl):

“Can you actually buy these ones?”

“I don’t know; I don’t think these ones are for sale.”

Don’t you just love it when you are in one of the world’s great museums, looking at an outstanding original piece of artwork, and the people next to you think it is an exhibition of pokey wee paintings that are for sale?  I suppose it is all about one’s perspective.  The musems here have been amazing for finding good sermon illustrations.  This particular experience made me think of Christ’s veiled glory: many behold him with no idea of how special he is.  Oh to be a connaissure of Christ himself!

3) La langue française is beautiful.  I am loving it.  I love its shapes and sounds.  I love its rhythm and expressiveness.  I love how there is no one French word for parents in law: you have to give everyone their proper place, respect and title (ma belle-mere, mon beau-pere etc).  I also love the vous - tu distinction.  Conversation with strangers is always so refreshingly polite (using the vous register), and conversation with friends so intimate and warm (using the tu register).

4) The myth that Parisiens are cold and unfriendly is exactly that - a myth.  I have yet to meet a Parisien who has been cold or unfriendly.  That said, I have been speaking French to everyone, which the people really appreciate.  If you approached a stranger and started barking at them in English (thus making the assumption that not only do you deserve their help just now, but also that they should have learned your language first, as you are unwilling to learn French), you might get a different reaction.  Treat the locals with some dignity and respect, and they will do the same to you.

5) Whenever I ask a French person in the UK “what do you miss most about France?” invariably they reply, “the food”.  To that sentiment I add a wholehearted d’accord!  The food here is absolutely stunning.  I love going to the local boulangerie in the morning for a breakfast of croissants and pain au chocolat.  The bread is always delicious.  Even in the non-pretentious places, the quality of the cuisine is remarkable.

6) For the last two Sundays, I have worshipped at the Eglise protestante évangélique des Ternes.  The church is a plant from a larger Baptist Church in the south of Paris.  The minister, Edouard Nelson, is an excellent, gospel driven expository preacher.  I have been really impressed and edified by his preaching thus far.  The church is only about six months old but already has about thirty people, which is brilliant by French standards.  It has been so exciting to worship in a pioneer missional church plant with French Christians who are working hard for the gospel.  Last Sunday a young French girl was baptised.  It was so moving to see a young French person profess her faith like that; it was a huge thing for the church here.  People came from all over France and Belgium to be there.  God is working in France - the church is small, but it is there nonetheless.

7)  I am consistently struck by the overwhelming spiritual needs here.  France is spiritually dark.  Visiting the Pantheon was a heartbreaking experience.  The Pantheon is a church which was converted (an unfortunate choice of wording, I know) to be a temple of secularism and humanism.  All the great figures of France’s gospel-rejecting past are entombed there.  The altar has been replaced by a huge statue representing Reason, accompanied by the line “Live Free or Die”.  Reason stands with her back to the huge Christ icon behind her, having rejected him.

Most ordinary French people have no idea what Protestantism is all about.  Yesterday in class, the prof asked us to describe what we had done over the weekend.  I told her I had gone to church.  She assumed to visit a building as a tourist.  I told her it was to worship.  “Ah, pour aller à la Messe” she said.  I told her that it wasn’t to attend Mass, that je suis chrétien mais pas catholique parce que je suis protestant and that I had gone to worship, to listen to the sermon, to read the Bible etc.  The whole thing was so utterly alien to her; she genuinely didn’t know how one should express a Protestant take on worship in French.  C’etait vraiment triste.

France needs the gospel like no other nation on earth.

8 ) Also, more than ever before I see the necessity of city churches having good international student programmes.  I am not complaining of loneliness or wanting sympathy or anything like that.  Pas de tout!   I mean, I am in a stunning city doing something I love for a month.  Life is good. 

That said; being an international student, even for a very short time, has nonetheless helped me see afresh that for many international students, life is profoundly lonely and tiring.  Your head hurts because you are doing everything in another language.  You arrive not knowing anyone else.  Making friends with locals is very difficult: in huge cities, the locals generally are not interested in you (there is no novelty in meeting yet another Chinese/American/British/African student for the average Parisien).  Yesterday I spoke to a Chinese student who has been in Paris for two years (and who speaks really good French) who does not have a single French friend.  He has no local friends, he is an only child, his parents are in China… life is really hard for these guys.

Thankfully, I have already made some great friends through the church - but if it wasn’t for the church, I probably would be in the same boat as the Chinese guy: yet another stranger in a strange land.

International students need friends, warmth, kindness and Christ.  We, national Christians, have more reason to fill that need than anyone else.  So, when my time here is finished, I will go back to St Columba’s with renewed zeal to make our World Wide Welcome programme take off in the next academic year.

Romans 8.16-39

It was good to watch this and remember the sheer power of Scripture, and particular of Paul’s Letter to the Romans.

Michael Jackson to receive honorary degree from Edinburgh University…

At least, that is what I thought when I read the headline on BBC News:

Honorary degree for moon walker

Disappointingly, it is another kind of moon walker.