Aventures languistiques

This past Saturday, Erwan, Patricia’s son, continued his parent’s tradition of hospitality (and NOT at ALL at the recommendation of his parents... all on his own). We took me along to discover the nightlife in Monaco, where he works at the Casino for security, and so passes much of his time. As one can imagine, there is not much nightlife in Sospel. He dressed in jeans, leaving me to feel a bit overdressed in my birthday present from Kelly, but I did not regret wearing it for half a second. What better setting for a silk scarf-inspired cocktail dress than the French Riviera? I was nervous, as I always am when conversing with someone new in French. I am always self-conscious about understanding and being understood. There are few things more unnerving for me than hearing (or saying) “pardon, encore??” over and over again in conversation with someone I barely know. I suppose that it is why I detest the bar scene in general. I like actually getting to know people, as opposed to assuming things from the bits of conversation I manage to salvage amidst the breaks in the thumping noise.

I digress… we took in a drink before dining, and of course, I stood frozen at the edge of the bar, half hoping he would just order for me, magically knowing what I wanted, regardless of the fact that I did not know what I had a taste for. I always get nervous, even in the States, when at a bar, because I feel sufficiently undereducated about alcohol and drink concoctions. Now add to that, a language barrier, not knowing what the bar has to offer, and not knowing what they drinks they do well… a bit stressful, even if it seems silly. I figured you could never go wrong with wine in France, and I was correct in my judgment; it was fantastic. We sat with our drinks, conversing, to my pleasant surprise, quite smoothly, occasionally interrupted by a few games of quick charades. We managed to make it through talk of Sospel to future travels, to past jobs, to economics to politics and then to learning languages. He neither understands nor speaks English, so I felt like a part of a secret club as we talked about the Brits across from us with them oblivious of our conversation. I suppose I have always desired to learn a foreign language for that very reason. Sneaky? Perhaps.

Anyway, in watching the Brits, I discovered that it takes me 3 to 5 seconds to transition from French to English. Even knowing that they were speaking English, I would take it for French with all the background noise for that short span of time.

We finished our drinks and wandered over to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. One of the best things about this region, just as I remembered from the last time I visited, is its proximity to Italy, which in turn has a heavy influence on the food. Three times now on this trip alone I have gorged myself on fantastic French-style Italian food...I must say, the best combination to ever hit the pallet of THIS “gourgette.” Following some final sips of coffee…mmm… we met up with some of hi s friends to get our feet wet with the local nightlife festivities We traversed from bar to bar for about an hour and a half in search of the perfect spot and finally settled on Flashman’s, a pub/nightclub near the casino. Talk about expensive drinks—12 euros for a screwdriver so strong it was almost undrinkable. At least they give you your money’s worth of alcohol… you know you aren’t getting jipped. I danced with a few of the girls in the group and chatted with a few of his friends, and we departed after Erwan’s return from his quest for a phone number. All in all, a very fun night, peppered with humorously awkward moments and social differences,. I was able to experience what my European counterpart 20-somthings do with their spare time. They dance to loudly played mixes of American music.