Let the pondering continue

Having watched a movie while I wrote the last bit, and while I got a bit of work done, then reading a bit and getting in a nap (in an attempt to get onto Canadian time as easily as possible), I woke up as they were bringing (more) water around, and was pleasantly surprised to find them also distributing ice cream and cookies. I have been served ice cream on flights before, but for some reason it seemed particularly nice today. The cool relief from the dry cabin air (just waking up from a nap, no leas), was just great. With so many empty seats, they also gave some of us an extra package of cookies! Another one of those things that they didn’t have to do, but that adds an extra touch (did I mention Bravo Air Canada?). Of course, just before that I was tempted to ask for extra ice cream, but when the gave us the extra cookies, it just seemed wrong to do so.

So, being on Air Canada, I felt the need to check the origins of the ice cream (with the fun spoon built into the the lid) and was disappointed to see that it was from the UK. Then I realised that it would be silly to have Canadian products (like the salt and pepper in hockey puck shaped mini shakers that I got years ago) on a flight _to_ Canada since, well, flying products somewhere for the sole purpose of having them consumed on the flight back seems a bit ridiculous when you think about it (although I suspect that it does happen often).

Random (or rather Ramadan ;)) thought

As a gentleman near us got his meal ahead of everyone else, certainly due to some particularly dietary need, a thought occurred to me (being that it’s Ramadan): when a Muslim travels through time zones (and therefore the day is suddenly extended by, for example, 6 hours or so, or the night reduced by as much), when are they allowed to eat?

When is a problem not a problem?

For nearly a month, my emails at work don’t make it directly to my inbox. I have to manually check for them on a web interface, check some boxes, click some buttons, and only then do they (magically?) appear in my mailer. At first I was irritated, but I’ve come to realize what a good thing it is for my sanity.

For a long time I read blogs and such about how to work better, focus better, stress less (I say this in past tense because I really have not had the time to read this stuff lately, perhaps because I haven’t put enough of the recommendations into practie), and one recommendation that I’ve seen several times is to stop emails close your emailer or disconnect so that emails can’t come in when you need to work on something. This is one of those things that I never had the guts to do, but now that it’s been forced on me, I’m seriously considering not getting the problem fixed (I did try at first, but to no avail). The truth is, I always have something that needs some level of concentration, and every pop-up warning me of an incoming mail gets me off track. Sometimes for something important, but often, for something that I’m just going to file away to try to remember later.

So to answer my own question, a problem is not a problem when you actually feel / work / live better despite it. I bet there are other problems I could bring upon myself that would do me a lot of good…

If a Canadian makes meatballs in France, can they really be called Swedish?

I worry about these things you see. I’m hoping that my upcoming trip to the land of the Smorgasbord will help me to answer that question, or at least to see how close (or how far) my meatballs are from the real thing…

Now THAT’s French

My cousin, Amy, is visiting me as part of a trip around Europe. In an effort to give her a somewhat authentic experience, we decided to get fresh pastries in the mornings. Yesterday I walked to the nearest bakery (less than a 5-minute walk away) that we had actually never tried, since we most often go to the bakery on Sunday mornings and it, like most, isn’t open then. Today though, it was a must to go to one near my old apartment which, aside from being open on Sunday mornings, also makes what they call cinnamon crosses that are just_so_good. The problem is, it’s a bit too far to walk when the purpose is getting breakfast, but really much to close to drive.

On a soon-to-be-related note, we have discussed getting bikes many times, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Lucky for us, Luc’s grandfather offered to lend us a pair of bicycles. We’ve had them for a week, but have been somewhat constrained by the fact that we don’t have locks. As a result, the only use they have seen was the trip from his garage to ours…until this morning.

Without locks, Luc had to come with me to the bakery, just to watch the bikes while I bought the pastries. The fact of being on a bike at all made me feel a bit more French, the fact that it is a woman’s bike even more so (I’ve never had a bike without a cross bar before), but the baguette held firmly in the rack on the back for the trip home just screamed “I AM FRENCH!” In fact, people driving by actually smiled at me, which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen (other than creepy people when I first arrived and was probably unwittingly giving off some kind of signals that screamed “I AM NOT FRENCH!”…Aimée, I know you remember!).

I wonder if, when the time comes that I can start applying for citizenship, they would accept that is proper integration into the French society. Then again, when I applied to become a normal contributing member of society that fact that I actually speak French didn’t seem to put me above those that don’t speak a word of it, and are now required to take government-paid French courses, so I’m afraid that riding a bike down the street with a baguette might not cut it…

Soon seems to get shorter and shorter all the time

When I ended a note to a with “hope to hear from you soon”, the word “soon” jumped out at me. I have become the world’s worst letter writer (admittedly I am probably tied with many many people for that title), and am incapable of getting my act together to write (or in the rare advanced cases finish) a letter. When I started out with email, a few days response time was standard (nobody read it that often anyway) but there has always been, at least for me, some strange pressure to respond the moment I receive the message. This became impossible at work, and even at home before that. I unconsciously prioritize, and then often forget about, emails that I have every intention of responding to. So when I myself say “soon”, I’m not even sure I know what I mean.

Of grapes and language

A while ago, I wrote about my theory on grapes and raisins, and plums an prunes and how the names for the dried fruits were (probably) stolen from French and why. I’ve been wondering if the same can actually be said for the word “grape” itself, if we go further back into the linguistic evolution of English. Why? A “grappe” in French, is a bunch (most commonly a bunch of grapes). So here goes my corollary to my theory on dried fruits: we  (anglos) stole names for some wet fresh fruits too. Here’s what I think happened…

English guy: What’s that?
French guy: What? zis?
English guy: Yes, that. What is that?
French guy: Zis in a grappe.
English guy: A grape?
French guy: No, a “grappe”.
English guy: May I try one?
French guy: But of coorse.
English guy: Mmm, these are tasty…Hey guys! Check out these grapes!
French guy (rolls his eyes): Seelly Eengleesh.

And thus, the raisin became the grape, only to become a raisin once again, but in a different form.

For researched information along these lines, please check out this paper from someone who found my first post, and left this link. I particularly enjoy the part of about names of meat versus names of animals (it always comes back to food with me, I guess).

Hmmm, about those keywords

Apparently writing about keywords doesn’t include any useful keywords, because after a significant (all things being relative) spike yesterday, today’s traffic has been nil (and no, I don’t mean almost). I am, more than ever, intrigued by this unexplained traffic (since WordPress doesn’t seem to know where any of these people came from, except for 1). Weird. Maybe it was Vianney…

Turning the table

I’ve been picking apart French use of English terms, but us anglos are just as guilty of doing the reverse. When I was in high school, I sometimes liked going to “matinées” at the movie theatre, which was usually around noon on Sunday. That’s all well and good, except that “matinée” refers to the morning. An even more common one is the ever-present-in-restaurants “entrée”, which refers to the main course. But “entrée” literally means entry or beginning, and refers to the first course / appetizer. I’m actually quite curious as to how that one evolved in English to mean “main course”. I admit that I haven’t looked, but if you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them

In addition to warped meanings, we’re pretty good with warped translations too – ballet and croquet are forgivable, since the French sound for words ending in -et is harder to distinguish from “ée” for anglos, but the one that I find most amusing is lingerie. Why do we pronounce it lingerée? I guess it just sounds more French / sexy / je-ne-sais-quoi . Admittedly it does sound more appealing than the real pronunciation which sounds a bit more like “laingeree”, and certainly better than if we said “lingeree” since that sounds much to much like “laundry”.

From Italian Lasagna to Swedish Meatballs

Today’s culinary experiment is another shot at meatballs. This is my third attempt, and while I wasn’t particularly disappointed in the first two, I think I can do better. In particular, I can’t seem to get them to stay round so that I can just roll them around in the pan as they cook. In any case, my hopes aren’t too too high today, since I had planned on a pork and beef mix, but ended up having to stick with all beef. Sigh. Funny how the things I knew best as a kid are the things I have the most trouble recreating now. Tomorrow it’s blueberry muffins and filled cupcakes. Mmmmm, can’t wait. I love that my childhood culinary experiences range from so many sources. One day I’ll have to try to make pierogies, although that may be hoping for too much, from what I’ve heard.