20 June 2010
Le Radio encore
It would appear that after several familiar visits to Le Cinq - with our usual - 1 x Hoegaarden and 1 x Kir Peche, The Real Mother Goose has become a familiar sound on the radio.
The usual locals ask for a chat over the wireless whenever the Goose is visiting. Usually about the football - or how she felt about her team losing.
Perhaps tomorrow, we'll chat about something else?
nah... I dont think so!
The usual locals ask for a chat over the wireless whenever the Goose is visiting. Usually about the football - or how she felt about her team losing.
Perhaps tomorrow, we'll chat about something else?
nah... I dont think so!
In the cafeteria
I love the French. Eating is not just about filling their stomachs. Meetings are scheduled so as to not interupt lunchtime. Time is taken... an hour... or more.... and deciding what to put on your lunchtime tray raises so many conflicts of choice... that often, the choice itself can take quite a while...
My favourite part of the hour / hour and a half long lunch episode, is the way everyone gathers at the end of cafeteria, around little cafe tables, and drink coffee... As if they're meeting with the best of friends.
The lunch-hall is loud with laughter, and chatter, and if you didnt know better... one wouldnt think this was a place of work.
My favourite part of the hour / hour and a half long lunch episode, is the way everyone gathers at the end of cafeteria, around little cafe tables, and drink coffee... As if they're meeting with the best of friends.
The lunch-hall is loud with laughter, and chatter, and if you didnt know better... one wouldnt think this was a place of work.
14 June 2010
Stupid Roundabout.....
The Interview
So you can imagine my surprise, when sitting in a tiny little pub called Le Cinq ("The Five") in Rambouillet, watching the very first and opening match of the 2010 World Cup Football between South Africa and Mexico, when a little grey-haired man approached me and asked if I'd be willing to be interviewed on the radio.
He had noticed the South African flag draped over my shoulders, and though it may be appropriate to inteview a saffa, to get in on the WC hype... I obliged.
But regretted it about 2 minutes later.
As the evening progressed, and I watched them setup their gear - the butterflies in my tummy started to get busier and busier. Thinking that I can still get out of this situation by pretending to have a dinner date in Paris, or by having recieved a frantic call that demanded my urgent attention, the same grey-haired chap came up to me asking me to lend him the SA flag to drape over a statue (Nestor - the butler from the TinTin cartoons, nonetheless!!!). I oblige again.
But regretted it about 20 seconds later.
Now I had no way to get out of this. I couldnt go and ask for the flag back and then leave, amidst all this excitement!
I resolve to thinking that at least NOBODY knows me here... and at LEAST if I dont understand, I never have to return to this little pub and never have to face this chap again!
I mentally start to practice some random things I'd like to say about the football, in French.
The interview goes swimmingly - I charm, I joke, I laugh.. I get deep, I speak about Africa's culture and spirit, I speak about Dancing Desmond... and the interview ends on a high note.
Drink please!
He had noticed the South African flag draped over my shoulders, and though it may be appropriate to inteview a saffa, to get in on the WC hype... I obliged.
But regretted it about 2 minutes later.
As the evening progressed, and I watched them setup their gear - the butterflies in my tummy started to get busier and busier. Thinking that I can still get out of this situation by pretending to have a dinner date in Paris, or by having recieved a frantic call that demanded my urgent attention, the same grey-haired chap came up to me asking me to lend him the SA flag to drape over a statue (Nestor - the butler from the TinTin cartoons, nonetheless!!!). I oblige again.
But regretted it about 20 seconds later.
Now I had no way to get out of this. I couldnt go and ask for the flag back and then leave, amidst all this excitement!
I resolve to thinking that at least NOBODY knows me here... and at LEAST if I dont understand, I never have to return to this little pub and never have to face this chap again!
I mentally start to practice some random things I'd like to say about the football, in French.
The interview goes swimmingly - I charm, I joke, I laugh.. I get deep, I speak about Africa's culture and spirit, I speak about Dancing Desmond... and the interview ends on a high note.
Drink please!
09 June 2010
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