26-11-2008
Holy Cow
For the real animal-lover I am, travelling across a country with a religion based on animals is a blessing and really gives you other prospectives about life without reading any self-help-book-bullshit. It might also explain why India is heaven for veggies. The hollyness of most animals makes that there is hardly ever meat on the menu and in some pilgrimage city you cannot even have it (neither alcohol which is easier to understand. Gods can't be bothered listening to prayers of drunk people). It is by the way in this city that it took me 10 minutes to be able to step into a café because of a cow standing on the doorstep and that did not want to move its arse.
Anyway, since my belief in religion is fairly limited (even if I have to say, I found fascinating the devotion displayed over there), I will not extensively explain the deep meaning of such an animalistic loving faith. No way. I will as usual get back to desperately down-to-earth considerations that some of you may find of the highest importance. Especially the coprophilic children who sleep within each of us. I obviously want to talk about the cowpat.
As a matter of fact, I was expecting the Indian city to be stinking cow shit all over since the number of animals probably overcome the number of inhabitants (there are over a billion now so I let you imagine). And what a surprise to realise that not at all. I was nearly disappointed. Either in the heat of the coast, the dump mountains, nothing seems to make stand out the fragance of such a holy substance (because indeed, hindous spread the ashes of cowpat over the heads of status, especially Ganesh... I did not know that elephants and cows had such deviant practices but anyway...)
So to explain this strange phenomenon, several solutions came to my mind:
- Cows over there don't shit (and since there are all really skinny and don't seem to eat that much, that would not be a surprise) and suffer from a chronical constipation
- The fact to be a sacred animal makes their excrements smell-less
- As self-conscious animals, they consider shitting in the street inappropriate for their own self-esteem
- I got so used to it that I did not even notice it after a couple of hours.
As far as I have understood, cowpat does not necessarily have the reputation to be one of the most horrible substances smell-wise in England. You can't even imagine how luck you are, guys. Cause I promise that this smell in the countryside where I was brought up in France inevitably made me become a city-lover. But since I like to find explanations to everything, I reckon this is the price to pay to produce the stinkiest - therefore the best - cheeses in the world.
Due to fermentation reluctance, India has bannished any sorts of cheese so the real explanation might be there then. They will never have the pleasure to discover the smile of the Laughing Cow :)
"Who was the first guy that look at a cow and said: "I think I'll drink whatever comes out of those things when I squeeze them?" - Calvin & Hobbes
02-09-2008
Cricket F(or)ever
A little post for September! Yeah! After the heat wave that we have all experienced again this year my brain needed a bit of rest indeed! And since I mentioned already a long time ago, I am going to explain to you the strange experience a proper continental lady can face when it comes to... Cricket, of course (since beer is actually fine now).
And since I am lucky enough to live next door to one of the biggest cricket grounds in the UK, I am really ashamed to confess that I never managed to put a step in, in spite of my well-known curiosity. But then, I have to say I have really good reasons: first of all, cricket tickets are actually really expensive (just have a look at the guy counting his money out of the underground station when a game is on and you will understand), the facetious weather (yes, I still love using personifications, even in English) and of course my complete un-understanding of the rules of such an activity ('cause can you really call it a sport, honestly ?)
It has been 3 and half years and half yesterday that I moved to London therefore I consider my level of britishness quite high (I even put milk in my cup of tea now... And like cheddar cheese) I have to say that cricket is definitely the most obscure thing I have ever come across. Since even after having had the rules explained a few times, I still don't understand anything. So I investigated a bit further to understand the reasons of my persisting ignorance so here are the potential explanations:
1/ I am particularly stupid
2/ I am too continental (none of my parents comes from a Common Wealth country which might explain it since I have noticed there are ONLY countries from the Common Wealth that seem to find it an interest, and NO! France has not been part of the British Empire!)
3/ I have better things to do than trying to get the point of such a ridiculous game
To be perfectly honest, I think the real reason is the 3rd option. Even though it is "a nice day out" according to my flatmate (answer to the question: what is the point for me to go and watch a game if I don't understand the rules and for the 20th time you failed at explaining them to me?). I can understand that (considering that you have to rely on the British weather, I think that it is a bit insane, but well) but spending 80GBP to get sunburnt or drenched (tick the appropriate box), drink beer, read your paper (nothing can happen for 3 hours and a game can last for several days, so every now and again you need to DO something slightly productive), to have a nap on a rather uncomfortable seat, and from time to time, take a look at some guys running on the pitch in a rather strange outfit, apparently made to collect the honey from a beehive or something like that, I think I'd better give my money to a charity. Since for doing the same activity (including the beehive collection part), I can do that while lying in the park next door. It costs me nothing and on top of that avoids me to loose a few brain cells in the company of fans full of beer (my adventurous trips our of the house after a game can prove it, this is NOT a gentlemen's sport.)
Every now and again I try to get a new set of explanations to eventually understand why I actually cannot get in the tube station when a game is on(generally after a game therefore after having been pestering that I cannot even leave my house), none of my cricket-fan-friends is able to simply and clearly explain me the rules. I therefore came to the conclusion that the level of understanding of the game was going lower and lower meanwhile the level of beer consumption was getting higher and higher. In other words, by 2:00 PM, only a very few people in the audience are able to follow up what's going on the pitch.
But isn't it really British at the end to design a sport during which you can have a beer, read your paper, talk about the weather with your neighbour, without getting disturbed by too much enthusiasm? Indeed my dear...
“The art of spelling is to French people what is cricket to English. There are indeed similar since they are both impossible to understand by foreigners, as well as by natives.” - Alain Schifred
10-07-2008
This is an ad
While re-reading recently previous posts (I should stop re-reading and just writing, I know), I saw I had mentioned last year having bought gigs tickets and did not even tell you more about is (that was only in my French blog since I am such a sloth and don't translate everything as you may have noticed...).
And since I love telling you stories about my life, I am even gonna add some more :)
First of all, I saw Sébastien Tellier who had the really good idea to do his warm-ups for his tour on The Island (i.e. the UK for those who are not used to read me), a few days before the launching of his last album (last February). And as a warm-up, it was a bit... experimental I have to confess: the beardy man showed us off his fabulous and rather strange dancing skills, giving us probably the hottest performance I have ever seen on a stage. And high in improvisation as well for both parts since no one had a clue about what his new album was going to sound like. The only piece of info we all had was its rather straight-forward title - "Sexuality". If it indeed transformed us all into Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze for a remake of Dirty Dancing in slow motion, it also gave us really naughty thoughts and if the singer clearly revendicated in interviews the fact he wanted people to paw and smooch each others during his gigs, I think we all thought of it at some point. He made me think of Gainsbourg at the time he did Je t'aime so well done Seb!
Then came, between two April showers, a little Nordic phenomenon called Björk. Little totem jumping up and down, the Icelandic singer delivered from her childish voice (you can't believe she is over 40) a breathtaking and colourful performance in tune with her last album. A harpsichord version of the beautiful song Vokuro from the Medulla
album made me burst into tears so I thought I was going to convert the Hammersmith Apollo into a giant swimming-pool... Lights to die for (I wish I would have been taking pictures) and numerous guests to complete the picture. That was big. That was beautiful. That was... Björk (you now understand when I say I am uncapable to copywrite in English).
More recently, the man of my life (see previous post) came with his nice fellows in the beautiful city of Londinium to a rather ecological venue that was Victoria Park. In spite of the fact that I got a bit disappointed to miss Bat For Lashes because of a delayed plane (that sounds sooooo posh... Sorry!) I have to say I can't remember the last time I got so excited about something (maybe the last time I spent Christmas and still believed Santa-Claus existed... I was 5). Lots of songs from the last album with from time to time a good old one and believe me, hearing 20 000
persons (not too sure about the number but who cares really?) singing Karma Police is something to die for. All I Need
got the little tear it deserved (I am going to stop mentioning this otherwise, everyone is gonna think I spend all my gigs crying...) and the lights getting brighter and brighter along with the night falling was just purely magic... As you may have guessed, I could not take my eyes out of Thom while my best friend Steph discovered how devastatingly attractive was Johnny Greenwood... So we were a rather good team. Anyway, to sum this up: Radiohead was as good as I expected it to be. Amen.
At last, but not least and just to show that I got and see less famous bands, I discovered recently a nice, young and refreshing English band. Dressed with funky T-shirt, on which there were funny light bulbs (can't really explain this, just go and see it) their (too) short set at the Barfly in Camden was just as really good remedy against the never-ending bad weather we experiment this summer (once again). A nice trip between pop and electro, from really epic stories to wordless songs, it was the sort of gig that you would like to never end... They are called Metronomy, TheirSpace is here and I think I am gonna start a career in PR :)
"Music is noise that thinks." - Victor Hugo
11-03-2008
Point Break
There are things like this... I just cannot get. I have celebrated about a week ago the fact that I have been living in London for 3 years and there are still an incredible number of things going on here that I cannot explain...
- Why there are two taps in the bathroon and only one in the kitchen? Why isn't it the other way around cause as far as I know, it's in the bathroom that you wash your hands the most often...
- Why most of the time when you put in the machine the tube ticket, the gate does not open? So first of all you have to stop while you were on your way AND you get stucked between the gate and the lovely person behind you who is obviously in a hurry and think you are the dumbest person on earth for not being able to use such a machine.
- Why films are NEVER broadcast on TV before 10:00PM
- Why a flush cannot work twice in a row within 5 minutes. So that when you are queuing for the ladies in a pub, you have to listen carefully the girl who was before you so if her flush worked it means you will have to apologise when you will walk out as yours won't...
- Why the most expensive underground network in the world never works... And it basically seems that I am the only person that it p***es off...
- Why every single hot beverage has to be served by default with milk already poored in.
- How come so many people can be interested in a sport as boring as cricket...
I am not saying that this is better in France and as everyone could notice, this is so ridiculously insignificant that I won't be leaving tomorrow... But as we were discussing this the other day with some friends, I thought after 3 years it was just a good time to actually draft what I have been able to notice along the years... Don't hesitate to post your own comments about the UK or wherever else. I look forward to it :)
« Not only England is an island, every single English person is one too. » - Novalis
10-02-2008
To get more hits
Ok, ok, I am a bit late on this... Since I noticed this last August when I went back to my beloved country.
I mean, everyone noticed already that all magazines tend to have the same subject coming over and over again according to the season. At the moment, the main line is detoxing and sales before the new fashion collections then the un-missable spring diets to avoid the bikini panic in June, etc.
I have not noticed in England since Brits are definitely not talking about the subject so much, but in France, August is actually the month dedicated to SEX (with caps, I might get more hits!). This might also explain why the peak time for births in France is May (i.e. conception time in August*).
Then last August, I f
ound a rather famous art magazine with a quite straight-forward title for its summer issue: Art et Sexe (in French, please!). So first of all, a bit of originality in finding a headline does not kill anyone so next time, something a bit more original would be appreciated, even if indeed, not every art magazine can be proud of having an editor having published her sexual fantasies (i.e. Catherine Millet).
Since it seems that it is fashionable to publish and talk about vibrators and other sex toys (FYI: le god is French for vibrator, I am not kidding!), I investigated a little on the web to find out how it looked and the result was actually far to be… turning on. Since I have to confess, the web is not only an easy playground for watching big boobs online… Lingerie websites are actually playing quite well the game on Google to get hits since the sexual vocabulary is apparently the most often keyed for research. I also discovered (and this is the scary part really) that the web was a famous place for watching anonymous’ sexual lives. Monique and Raymond’s websites (I did my research mainly in France, hence de French names), practicing on a regular bases wife swapping during their spare time and occasional streakers are everywhere if you are unfortunate to do a typo on a URL (you can do it consciously or not, this is none of my business)… Either on MySpace or other weblogs, people can't get enough of explaining what’s going on once their bedrooms doors are shut, either in words, photos, videos, webcam, live or not. So it seems that what used to be intimate is happily shared nowadays with perfect strangers…
I am not criticizing it (for once, I am not complaining! Enjoy!) since after all, people do whatever they want and no one is forced to read what is on the web anyway. But the other day, I actually found a paragraph in a paper explaining that an old lady has been found dead by electrocution while she was apparently using a vibrator (still in her hand I suppose, to pretend such a thing really), I was not too sure if I should have cried or laughed…
*My birthday is in May so I am the result of a rather naughty nap! Ahah!
"If the word arse is in a sentence, even really beautiful, the audience will hear only that word." - Jules Renard
13-12-2007
Ustensisly Useless
As you probably all noticed, the Xmas run just makes us all enjoy each others company as lot of people seem to have decided to go and do their Xmas shopping at the same time as you, and you and you, and me too. So this time for lots of us to get back to pre-historic times and go hunting... For the perfect presents for mum, dad, sista and bro, the cat of our neighbour, the baby of the in-laws we cannot stand, the Secret Santa for the office Xmas party etc.
And this year, I am delighted to announce that my sisters decided to go both for the same present of a highly glamourous standard... A Cake slicer... Yes, they took a few courses with Posh Beck to have such a nice idea...
The thing is that a cake slicer is actually called in French "Pelle à tarte" (litt. Tart shovel -I am not joking!-, well, this is actually no more than a tart server). And they both told me this at different time so I could not even manage to get them both for cheaper!
Well anyway, the point of this story is that actually, in France, we have cake servers but no cake slicers, so it serves but it does not cut... And the thing is that it is called Tart server because it cannot carry a piece of cake. Indeed the low level of stability of such a delicate (and proprotionally expensive) piece of stainless steel cannot guarantee you can transport to a plate anything higher than 1 inch...
And as Brits have indeed a far more practical mind than stupid arrogant Frenchies, I even found a cake slicer that can cut, serve and even sing! (Idon't really think it looks nice, but hey! It does the job) 4 songs are selected such as Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas... Which could be able to make me forgive the British for having created Mince Pies and the Christmas Pudding!
"Bigger the piece of cake is, bigger the chances are that the piece falls down badly on its way to the plate." - Murphy's Law
17-10-2007
Amère la Douce France
Just to give you news about my beloved country...
The French government is trying to pass a new law regarding the immigration policy which would create tighter control on "family gathering" through DNA checking and obviously registration.
To make it clearer, a mother or father of a child who moves to France and cannot afford to pay for its child travel at the same time will have to -as well as his/her child- to provide some of their DNA to show that they have the same blood as a proof of their relationship.
This raises a lot of ethical problems and ask -in a country so proud of the freedom of its citizens- since when scientific and genetic matters can decide whether or not a person should be allowed to get into a territory and furthermore since when a family can be only defined by having the same blood. Isn't a family something a bit deeper than that? Especially nowadays that the model of a nuclear family is falling apart -even in the highest authority of the French Republic- parents are more defined now by the principle of love, care and education than any sort of "bloody" proof. This law is actually getting backwards to earlier times we all thought were over…
France participated as well already to conferences regarding genetic data usage specifying that it was against the constitution to use any of this sort of information against somebody as it is against the democratic principle of freedom of individuals worldwide.
Finally, the constant suspicion of people trying to rip off or take advantage of the French social system or government is just something made up to increase the insecurity and hostility against foreigners (and as an immigrant, I know what I am talking about) and cannot be considered as a long term solution to fight the problems France is currently facing. It will just increase a gap already far too deep between the French citizens and other communities who have trouble to find a way to integrate themselves in the French society (check again the results of the first round of the presidential elections only 5 years ago and imagine how immigrants could have felt that day...).
That's the reason why a petition was started by SOS Racism (France's leading anti-racism organisation) and Charlie Hebdo (a satirical magazine) to call for the withdrawal of the disposition. The petition has been signed by nearly 230'000 people already, including politicians, scientists, journalists, artists, and people who fought nazism during WW2.
Here's the link: http://www.touchepasamonadn.com/
24-09-2007
Sun of Sicily
The advantage of travelling in a place such as Sicily, is that linguitically speaking (not sure about this word, but anyway), the word Sicily is an alliteration by itself. And as everyone know that the limits of the alliteration are basically where the speech starts to be heavy, I won't give you any more example to make my point. The title should be enough (check the French if you want, it is even worse...) 
Anyway, the little story behind that happened when I was walking in the rather tiny streets of the beautiful city of Palerme.
After one week getting lost in translation between French, Italian and English, my travel companion named the locals at some point as palermitanese*. I asked him more information about that word I never heard about and that I thought was sounding... A bit wrong actually. So he told me that as in Italian, they were named Palermitani, he just assumed that the French word for it was probably really similar... Because indeed, on this respct, the French language is a real sloth... And most of the time borrow words of the language involved to make up her own ... So with no dictionnary around... We had to make it up by our good selves so the inhabitants have been called by different names during the weekend we spent over there.
Back amongst the londoners (no doubt about their name), no bloody way to find the solution... And as I always said, the Wikipedia was not such a reliable source regarding linguistic matters... It just says that the word is Palermitani, whatever language you pick... So... Hmmm.
So to sort out the problem, I reckon that as long as noone will give me the solution, I will stick to Palmitants, logical association of the name of the city with the end of the word inhabitant (applicable to all cities in which some unidentified people live... :).
*This conversation was in French
"We don't live in a country, we live in a language." - Emil Michel Cioran
29-08-2007
Sing-a-long-song 2
There are subjects like this that I particularly like, that's why, less than one year after I posted on this subject, I get back to it... First names... Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ! But don't get upset, I have a really good reason to do so...
First, I am not gonna teach that my name is a nightmare to pronounce for all of you English speakers... Unless you see it written, you just can't get it and the things which desperates me constantly is that it does not exists anywhere else in the world which would make it a bit more popular. (And if you would be king enough to avoid to make this silly joke: "Oh ! Really ?" When you talk to me... It would be much appreciated!)
Anyway, even if this first name was a real trendy name at the beginning of the 80's in the other side of the Channel (I know, I am really really young!;) it has never ever gained popularity either in literature or music, even not in cinema or anything as so far, only one old and obscure French film has the main character called after me (you can check it out on the dialog written on the window of the Apostrophe bakery shop on the lower side of Regent Street), apart as well from the painter Aurélie Nemours (a bit of DIY if you don't know who it is, Wikipedia can be used sometimes for other purposes than checking out silly stuff!)...
And today, one of my German colleagues told me that she actually found out that my name has been the title of a famous song in Germany a few years ago... The song (German song as you can guess) by a band called Wir sind Helden, was part of their first album (Die Reklamation) (with such a title, it is the proof that randomness does no exist!). The song apparently talks about the difficult time a young French girl spent in Germany, trying to manage her relationships in a foreign country where the culture is different (don't expect me to make any comment on the subject!) I can't really say I am fond of the song itself but just for the title, I thought it deserved postrerity... So not posterity, but almost :)
"I don't care what you say about me. Just spell the name right." - Gene Sarazen
10-08-2007
Sing-a-long-song
Sorry all... It is not necessarily really nice to hear, but last week while I was in France, a question which comes up fairly often from the froggies came once again...: "how come Brits can listen to songs with such shallow lyrics?".
As you all know... I love you all Brits as much as my heart can but I have to confess that on this particular subject the only explanation I could find so far was that you basically hardly ever listen what a song is about... (if some of you do, please add a comment below, even insults are accepted as everyone know I am a real masochist anyway ;).
And I have to say that lots of really popular singer at the moment have well understood that and don't bother to write anything really interesting which could have a sort of message a bit deeper than they got dumped by their girlfriend (easy example I know, and by the way, I said lots of them and not all of them...)
To give you an example, can anyone explain to me the deep meaning of the song written below (I did not feel brave enough to copy and paste the whole text), sung back in the days by probably the most famous British band ever: The Beatles?
Hello Goodbye
You say yes, i say no.
You say stop and i say go go go, oh no.
You say goodbye and i say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, i say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, i say hello.
To be honest, compared to some really deeply poetic French songs, I quite appreciate sometimes not to have to think too much about the deep meaning of lyrics... But there are limits... And so far there seem to be... Where The Beatles started...
"Music is a really efficient way to associate ideas." - David Lynch