darcydodo: (body writing)
Someone tagged me for this a while back, but I've forgotten who, so I'll just do it anyway.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6. Tag five people.

The nearest two books to me were both dictionaries (one Latin-to-English and one English-to-Latin), which can't so much be said to have sentences, so I went and got the book that's in my backpack, sitting partway across the room. (Seemed better than picking a random book off the bookshelf). The first two "sentences" are salutations in a letter, but I'm counting them anyway. Apologies for it being in French. I'd translate it, but I've got gaps in my vocab. :)

Tula a offert à Lisbeï une grosse montre en argent de Liborne, obtenue en secret par mes soins à la Foire de la dernière Assemblée, et elle lui a aussi fabriqué une petite bibliothèque à portes pyrogravées; les étagères en seront vite remplies: nous avons encore eu la même idée, toi et moi, lui offrir des livres — un luxe extravagant pour des gens de Litale! Les miens sont assez éducatifs pour que Selva n'ait point trop sourcillé (les plantes et les insectes "correctes" de Litale, avec dix très belles planches en couleur), mais je dois t'avouer que tes Œuvres complètes de Ludivine de Kergoët n'auraient sans doute pas suscité autant d'indulgence si elles n'étaient venues de toi... Posséder personnellement des livres, passe encore, mais des romans! Des romans d'aventures!

--Élisabeth Vonarburg, Chroniques du Pays des Mères
darcydodo: (Default)
Today was strange, fun, tiring, and many other things. It started out with me helping a French girl named Sandrine correct her paper on (in English) and translation of (into French) a novel by Linda Hogan entitled Power. I'd agreed to do this a few days ago, and I was getting paid for it (I figured 20 euros/hr was approximately equivalent to $25/hr, which is the going rate for grad. student tutoring at home). Besides, it means that I now know of a book I'd quite like to read at some point. But it also meant having to get up at 7:30, which didn't allow me to start catching up at all on my sleep (in fact, it helped deprive me of more of it).

Class was a mixture of stupidly hot and wearying room (our usual room, which we were back in today), much nicer (read: colder) room that we moved into after the break, and a large coffee during said break. There are also two new girls in our class, from Finland. (Have I actually listed the nationalities that have cropped up in the class? I don't think so. Here they are, and apologies if it's actually a repetition. ))

After class, I headed over to the Louvre again, since Monday's the other day of the week it's open late. My second trip to the Louvre )

Oh, and apparently today was Bloom's Day, which I really ought to have known. I'm not entirely sure if there's a suitable way to celebrate the holiday, though, anyway.


May. 31st, 2003 12:04 am
darcydodo: (bird)
I swear, I have never been hit on so many times in my life. Majorly persistent guy today while I was eating lunch; I eventually tried resorting to "je préfère les femmes," but this had very little effect either. He was a boxer, originally from Africa — what's next to South Africa? Anyway, I think I may make it a rule simply to ignore any man who addresses me unless he's with a woman or a child. At least until I know enough French to politely give someone the brush-off and make it clear I mean it! Maybe I should just start wearing my glasses... and not shave my legs... and pick my nose.... On the bright side, it gave me a very good chance to practice my French.

Page and I tried to go to a concert tonight, but it ended up being 20 euros, not 9 (as we had thought), so that was a no-go. Wandered along the Champs-Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe, instead.

Also took the placement test for the Alliance Française today; I aced the level II test and absolutely bombed the level III test. And fun and hijinx with credit cards. Yippee.
darcydodo: (Default)
May be finished with an edit later (depending on internet time...)

I decided to try writing this entry by hand, first, so as to save time when it comes to typing it in. This means that I'm currently lying on the grass in a little park a stone's throw from Notre Dame. I can see a sliver of the cathedral between the leaves of the tree above me and the hedge that surrounds the park, when I look up. There are people lying and sitting all around the edge of the grass, most of them fairly young (except for the families, I'd say primarily between 25 and 35). Rsoes, michaelmas daisies, random green things, and two small English boys who are being terribly naughty and completely disregarding their parents. Actually, not naughty, just rambunctious.

When I first left the airport, it really felt as though I were back in England. The trees and hedgerows looked right, and the signs were vaguely the right shape. (Ooh. Really fat pigeons are now waddling along the path,looking remarkably like mourning doves. Or ring-necked doves. Or something.)

So far, nobody's tried talking to me in English unless I specifically start the conversation in English, so I count this as something of a triumph. Not that I've exchanged many words with anyone in the first place.

Right, I wanted to write about the plane journey, I guess. Nice easy check-in in L.A. (which I think I deserved, given the whole ticket hassle), since who flies to S.F. from the United Int'l terminal? OK, a few people, but there was no queue at all; most people weren't getting on the flight down south. Changing planes at SFO was highly amusing, because as soon as I approached the area that claimed to be the international terminal, I and another passenger got ushered aside, our passports and tickets checked, and then led through what was essentially a back entrance out of the airport. You know the type: concrete stairs and all. Turns out there was a tiny little room down there where we and a few others waited for a bus to take us over to the real international terminal.

During the flight I sat next to a woman named Nadine who was French but had been living in Santa Clara for about 12 years. She was going "home" for a few days (to somewhere near Avignon) because her grandmother had died. I watched Pipe Dreams (amusing but nothing high-quality), Evelyn (very well done, made me cry, and now I've got "The Parting Glass" stuck in my head; serves me right for knowing too many folk songs), and Two Weeks Notice (very funny, despite the reviews, plus Sandra Bullock's hot, though less so than she used to be; Hugh Grant is very pretty and does absolutely nothing for me). Don't you like my movie review style, [livejournal.com profile] girlwithjournal? Clearly I should write for you next year. :) The rest of the flight I read Anselm's book. It's being fun, per expectations.

(TBC... don't want to overrun lj's entry space.)


darcydodo: (Default)

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