School Days, School Days

I reported a couple of posts ago that Morgan and I were going to get some professional intensive instruction to help us along with our French. We began this weekend working from 9:00am to 3:00pm Saturday and Sunday (today). It was very interesting and helpful...but tiring and stressful as well. There's this old saying about you can't teach old dogs new tricks that keeps running through my head, and I'm beginning to wonder if, like many old sayings, there's not an element of truth in it. I'm absolutely mentally worn out.

Florent, our instructor, was very good and had a lot of patience. He's going to need it. We must have spent an hour and a half on the sounds for the letters "Y" and "U" in French. They are very close in French...so close, in fact, I'm still somewhat unsure of the exact intonational difference. I was reminded of one of the best comedy routines ever: Gallagher's routine on the English language (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDFQXxWIyvQ&NR=1 ). The part starting at about 3:30 on is one of the best commentaries on the complexity of the English language you will ever hear. Right now, French is seemingly as complicated to these old ears.

But, the good news is these old ears still work, and the old brain still stores data (albeit with intermittent connection problems), so we're going to stay after it.

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Good Deal?
I needed a guitar stand, so Saturday, after our lesson, I went downtown to a music store on Allee Baco. Finally found a good (economic) deal in France. The stand was only 9€ (~$12.25). That's a good deal! Of course, while there I looked at the good guitars and saw a couple of Martin and Gibson "dreadnaughts" that were really nice. They were in the area of 3,000€ ($4100), creating the possibility that perhaps this could be one of the most expensive guitar stands in history.


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But we thought we were!
After getting the guitar stand, Morgan and I met up to have a couple of beers and get something to eat. After working on French all day I was in the mood for ordering it in a vein while laying on a gurney...but settled for a couple of pints in an Irish Pub. After the beers, we resolved to get something to eat, stopping first at the place where we'd gotten the kangaroo meat in October. By this time they were booked until 11:00pm, and I wasn't about to wait that long. So down the street we went stopping at this intriguing place called La Spigna.


We were greeted at the door by one of the most beautiful and healthy young ladies I think I've ever seen. Olive skinned and mysterious, she seemed perfect for this Italian restaurant. Somehow, through my stuttering (was it the French or the beauty?) we managed to get a small table in back. In addition to greeting and seating, she turned out to be the one to take our order, assisted by a young man who spoke less English than she. At her suggestion, however, the young man provided Morgan with, I think, their only menu in English. He eventually found a selection from all available he thought contained only pasta and meat, making him a happy man. As for me, nothing is ever that easy. After perusing the French menu for ten minutes I decided that "Escallapes" sounded like the way to go. Sea scallops with pasta is a real favorite of mine. Wanting to be sure, I checked it on the English menu. That was no help, having the same name as on the other menu, so, when the young lady returned to take our order I asked if the entree was sea scallops. She, obviously, didn't understand me, but, when I held up my hand with thumb and index finger joined in a circle and said, "round?" and "blanc?," she gave a smile that damn near melted my belt buckle, and nodding her head emphatically, said, "Oui, oui." Who could fail to order after goddess confirmation? Not me. I don't have that kind of will power.

The veal scallopini was actually quite good, though my heart was set on sea scallops and pasta. Can't say I wanted or liked the frites (french fries), but what the heck, I ate 'em. We did get a very nice Italian rosé that went well with everything.

About half way through the meal Morgan mentioned he would like some bread so, after the usual five-to-ten minute pantomime show trying to get the waiter's attention, we both said, "Le Pan." Seeing his confusion, we said it again. And again. Several times. But, evidently, that didn't work. Then looking at us in all seriousness and smiling, he said, "En Français?" We almost fell on the floor. That's what we thought we were doing!!!

During today's lesson we asked for the correct pronunciation and learned that our "pan" with the sound of "pa" or "paw" didn't quite meet the guttural requirement of "pawn". But we did get the bread. And, I, later, determined that the young lady was from Tunisia.