Until recently, I had never heard of a vide-armoires, which literally means “wardrobe emptier”. I have been to many vide-greniers (grenier means attic) and brocantes and had worked out the difference for myself. The vide-greniers provides the occasion for people to get rid of all the stuff they don’t want any more. A lot of towns hold one once a year. Sometimes they are combined with food stalls, but not always.
Vide-greniers
The term brocante comes from brocanteur who, according to the Larousse dictionary, is someone who buys and then sells (or swaps) secondhand goods. However, brocante is sometimes used to mean vide-grenier and the two can be combined. So you can find householders selling children’s hand-me-downs and old lamps next to a professional selling old furniture.
The etymology is not certain. There is a French expression de bric et de broc which means “made of bits and pieces”, maybe related to the German gebrochen or Italian brocco. It could also come from a broc repairer where brocs are the metal staples that used to be used to hold old pottery together.
Real antiques are usually sold at a “foire des antiquaires” but sometimes you find them at brocantes as well.
Vide-armoires
So I wasn’t sure what we’d find at a vide-armoires When we arrived in Bracieux, we discovered it was being run by the local tennis club. It turned out to be strictly private individuals – no professionals – and only clothing, mostly children’s. So not of much interest to us.
And before I finish, the correct spelling is vide-greniers and not vide-grenier and the singular and plural are the same.
Donjon and dungeon are so obviously of the same origin that I was curious to know why the meanings are so different although both relate to feudal castles. What the French call donjon is what we call a keep in English, whereas the places where prisoners are kept is called oubliettes, from the verb oublier, to forget. No need to go into etymology there!
Angers Castle Keep or donjon
Donjon, also written dongun, doignon and dangon in the past, is from the Gallo-Roman dominiono, attested in various forms (dunjo, dungeo, domniono, domnio, etc.), in turn derived from the Latin dominus meaning “master”. It was used for the part of the castle reserved for the master and his family. It was well-protected against seiges and also included strategic food and weapon stocks. Prisoners who needed to be particularly guarded were also kept there.
It seems that the first recorded instance of the word in English near the beginning of the 14th century also meant “an underground prison cell beneath the castle keep”. But it actually seems that it is more likely that the word derives from the Frankish *dungjo, *dungjon- (“dungeon, vault, bower”), from Proto-Germanic *dungijōn, *dungō (“an enclosed space, treasury, vault”), from Proto-Indo-European *dʰengʰ- (“to cover, hide, conceal”),related to Old Saxondung(“underground vault, cellar”), Old High Germantung (“a cellar, underground living quarter”), Old Englishdung (“a dungeon, prison”), and Old Norsedyngja (“a detached apartment, lady’s bower”). (Thank you Wikipedia!)
So there you go, dungeon doesn’t seem to come directly from donjon at all which is disappointing somehow!
Anyone who has been involved in buying (or selling) a house or appartment in France will know who the notaire is but may not be aware of exactly what they do, mainly because the equivalent does not exist in the Anglosaxon world. According to the Chambre des Notaires, which has a very useful English version of their website, by the way, “a Notaire is a legal specialist with a public authority mission who draws up authenticated contracts on behalf of his clients. He is self-employed”.
Notaire’s office in Montrichard with its easily recognisable insignia
The word “notary” exists in English, but has a very different meaning. According to the British Notaries Society, “A Notary is a qualified lawyer primarily concerned with the authentication and certification of signatures and documents for use abroad … and also authorised to conduct general legal practice (excluding the conduct of court proceedings)”. Very different from the French notaire.
So what does the notaire do exactly? He/she is involved in all real estate transactions, as well as wills, marriage contracts and other similar legal documents. Many French people consider that notaires charge too much but it is not their fees that are expensive – it’s the taxes levied by the French government. Doing your own conveyancing in France is simply not possible.
What a lot of people don’t know is that they can consult the notaire free of charge on a variety of matters. Before I bought my first house in the suburbs of Paris, I went to see the notaire to ask what sort of price I should pay because they keep very strict statistics on real estate transactions. He gave me the average “price per square metre” for a house in the area I was looking in and that is exactly what I paid. When I sold it ten years later, the price had doubled.
I went back to see him again of course when I was selling the house after my divorce and buying an apartment instead. Once again, the price had doubled when I sold it ten years’ later. When Jean Michel and I got married, we went to see him so he could advise us on our marriage contract and wills since we each have two children from another marriage and it was important to protect their interests.
After that, I did several interpreting/translating jobs for another notaire whom we subsequently adopted, particularly as the previous one had retired by then. When we bought Closerie Falaiseau, I naturally asked that she be involved in the sale as I knew she would look after my interests. If each party has a separate notaire, they split the fees, so it doesn’t cost any more to have your own.
It was actually quite amusing when we signed the final deed for the house. My notaire was not available on the day and time chosen by the notaires in Blois, who obviously were not going to go out of their way to accommodate a Parisian notaire. They had already been a bit difficult about sending her the deed (and then she picked up a few errors which they didn’t like) so she very apologetically sent her very competent clerc instead. Since the clerc would have had to get up at the crack of dawn to get to the office notarial by 10 am by train, we offered to take her with us in our car.
She was very chatty and we had a most interesting ride, stopping at Paul’s along the motorway to have breakfast. We were very pleased to have her present at the signature. It wasn’t that our previous owners were not honest – they are the loveliest people you could imagine – but they had asked to stay another two weeks in the house after the final signature. We knew they would leave in time, but imagine what might happen if they both had a fatal car accident and their heirs (they don’t have any children) refused to leave the house?
Our notaire was able to make sure that we were completely covered by the law in the event of a problem, an issue which the previous owners’ notaire had not bothered to address.
So my advice is to make sure you have your own notaire, who will look after your best interests, and not just go along with the one suggested by the sellers or the real estate agency. Go and see the notaire in advance and explain your situation and what you’re looking for. I’m sure you’ll find them very helpful.
And if you need help seeing a notaire because your French isn’t good enough, I’ll be happy to help if you live in my area (Loire Valley) or your notaire is willing to use their visio system. As a certified translator, I am qualified to do so.
Whether you’ve heard the term chien assis – literally sitting dog – or not, you probably don’t know its correct meaning. I didn’t until a couple of days ago although I thought I did. The windows in the photo below have always been referred to by the people I know as chiens assis, but I’ve never been able to fathom why.
Our “capucine” windows
It’s because they aren’t chiens assis at all – they are lucarnes à croupe or capucine. What we call dormer windows in English are lucarnes which comes from the Latin word for “light” and they all have different names in French. The chien assis which, it seems, is a word used in the Loire Valley, is actually quite rare and so far, I haven’t found any! Below is a photo from one of my very favourite dictionaries – Dicobat by Jean de Vigan – and it’s full of lots of wonderful definitions and sketches. You may wonder why I have such a dictionary but it’s because I do a lot of translations in the field of building.
Lucarnes in Dicobat by Jean de Vigan, Editions Arcature
So you can see in the photo above, second from the left, what the real chien assis looks like and it does sort of look resemble a sitting dog. The one of the left is a chien couché or lying down dog. It’s also called a lucarne rampante, meaning “creeping” or “crawling”. Below is an example in our street in Blois.
Chien couché or rampant
Most dormer windows are capucines, but we did find quite a few examples of “lucarne-fronton” on the more bourgeois houses in Blois.
Lucarne fronton
In one of the little towns in Sologne called Mur-de-Sologne, I found examples of pignon and meunière dormer windows.
PIgnon & meunière
And this house, which we came across in a forest area in Sologne, has a lucarne rampante à jouées biaises which literally means a “crawling light with sloping reveals”. What a mouthful!
Lucare rampante à jouées biaises
Now just in case you tried to click on the link to my competition post on the Top Ten Châteaux in the Loire Valley yesterday and it didn’t work, you can try again here. All comments welcome!
A post by Susan from Days on the Claise in which she described the fare offered at her local charcuterie set me thinking about the word “persillé” which literally means “parsleyed”, used to describe pâté or brawn with parsley through it.
However, when applied to an entrecôté or côte de boeuf, it also means “marbled”, that is, with streaks of fat through it. I couldn’t quite understand how, etymologically, you could get from parsley in a pâté to streaks of fat in meat.
So I checked out my very favourite dictionary, the “Dictionnaire Historique de la Langue Française”, a beautiful two-volume affair that has that lovely thin bible paper. I happened upon it once at the Maison du Dictionnaire in Paris when I was looking for some technical dictionaries and, despite its exorbitant price, couldn’t resist buying it. But I’ve never regretted it.
“Persillé” was first recorded in 1694 with its original meaning of blue or rather green-veined cheese, “not to be confused with persillé meaning a preparation with parsley as a condiment”, a rather strange thing to say as you would imagine that the resemblance to parsley would have come first.
By analogy with the green-veined cheese, it means anything “with green stains” (1864). There’s a cheese called “persillé de Savoie“. But it has another unexpected meaning. In Provençal, “persil” (parsley) is slang for “money”, along with “oseille” (sorrel) and “épinards” (spinach), and, by analogy (once again), for prostitution (1840). As a result, “persiller” also means “to sollicit clients” no less.
So now you can go off to the butcher’s and ask for an “entrecôte bien persillée” (unfortunately the way I prefer it) and to the cheesemongers and surprise them by ordering “fromage persillé“.
One of my greatest pleasures in teaching at the university in France was meeting young people from English-speaking countries across the world and learning about their hopes and aspirations. My French Life, the global community of French and francophiles connecting like-minded people in English & French, has just published my interview with Inge Laino, who is both tour guide and translator and manager of Paris Muse which gives private guided tours of Paris art museums. Enjoy!
Why Inge Came to France
“I can say that I have accomplished most of what I set out to do: join the Peace Corps, go to Africa, live in France and master a foreign language.” I don’t think many people of Inge’s age could say the same thing!
A New Yorker from Queens; Italian on her father’s side and Flemish on her mother’s, Inge went with her parents and four older siblings on holiday to Belgium every year. “I HATED it… I didn’t speak Flemish and I hated being in linguistic exile. Read more
Last week’s bloggers’ round-up had a single theme – Barcelona – but this week, the subjects are completely different. Chez Charnizay from the Loire Valley offers us a very complete description of the danse macabre, a mediaeval allergory for death, depicted in a local chapel in Touraine. Katerina Forrester, posting on My French Life, examines all the different things that “quand même” can mean, while Bread is Pain comments on French hospital food, very far from the pizza and jello she remembers having in the US as a child. Enjoy!
A bittersweet treat: La Chapelle de tous les Saintes
by Niaill, a Scotsman, and Antoinette, a Dutch American, from Chez Charnizay, who live in the village of the same name in southern Touraine and blog about their adventures in the Loire Valley.
A little while back, friends Susan and Simon who write the blog Days on the Claise ran into Marc Dimanche, an acquitance of theirs. A devoted member of the Preuilly archaeological society, he offered them the opportunity to visit the Chapelle de tous les Saintes [All Saints’ Chapel] which is located on the left as one drives into Preuilly-sur-Claise from the direction of Le Grand Pressigny. They had written a post about the chapel before here, but had never had the opportunity to see inside. Read more
Speak like a local: quand the French use quand même
By Katerina Forrester, Australian born but always longing to be French, posting on My French Life, the global community of French and francophiles connecting like-minded people in English & French.
It’s a phrase that stops a nation, or more so, a young girl at the ripe age of 16 on her first trip to France. This common French expression would continue to stump me for years to come, and I’m ashamed to add that the first time I heard this phrase, I transcribed it as ‘comme même’.
However, I shouldn’t be disheartened by my cultural linguistic naivety. This typical French expression, quand même, may be easily translated into English, but the translation changes drastically depending upon the context!
So let’s identify and explore quand même on the dissecting table…through hypothetical situations. Read more
Of Hospitals and Cheese Courses
by Bread is Pain, a 30-something American living in the Rhone-Alps, and slowly eating and drinking herself through the country
Yes, I am being a slacker this week. MB is having some health issues and afternoons at the hospital have proved to be uninspiring…except for the meals.
Now granted, I haven’t been in the hospital in the U.S. since the 80′s so my information isn’t at all up to date but what I remember of the food was pizza and jello (I was also 8 years old which might account for what stands out in my mind). At the hospital here in Grenoble, however, MB’s meals are somewhat more sophisticated. There is a potato soup, there is a tuna pasta, a freshly baked roll, fromage blanc. These may show up all at the same time but this is basically a 3 course meal…in the hospital. Yesterday he had saucisson…how is that a healthy choice? Read more
When I first started writing this blog in October 2011, I was worried about my university students and possibly my translation clients being able to track down my private life so I came up with the pseudonym of Fraussie. When I created the Facebook fan page for Aussie in France, I discovered that I needed a “real” person behind it. What I didn’t understand was that fan pages and Facebook accounts are kept separate anyway and that someone who joined the fan page did not see the person who was behind it.
Front staircase at Closerie Falaiseau in winter
Anyway, when I set up the account, Fraussie was not enough. I needed a family name as well. We’d just found Closerie Falaiseau which is in the Grouet neighbourhood of Blois, whence the name. It was not until later that we learnt the name of the house or I would have called myself Fraussie Falaiseau and not Fraussie Grouet.
But I have been having more and more trouble keeping my own Facebook account, Rosemary Kneipp, separate from Fraussie Grouet’s. I never remember who I am and I need to keep logging out of one and into the other. It’s good practice for warding off incipient Alzheimer’s of course, but not always convincing. The fan page problem was really quite simple to solve as it turned out: I just had to change administrators!
I’m now no longer teaching at uni and my clients only care about whether my translation is any good or not so I’ve decided to get rid of Fraussie Grouet although I must confess I’ve become somewhat attached to her. Relationnel has also decided he’d like to come out. He’ll now appear as Jean Michel. Without a hyphen.
I’ve often been asked where the name Relationnel comes from. When we first met and I introduced him to my children, then 12 and 15, Leonardo, the oldest (he wanted to be a genius when he grew up and used to read a French comic book series called Léonard hence the pseudonym) was impressed by Jean Michel’s ability to always say the right thing to people, so he started calling him Relationnel and it stuck.
My daughter, Black Cat (explained in another post), would like to keep her pseudonym. It’s bad enough having a mother that writes a blog without it spilling over into your private life as well! I haven’t asked Leonardo because he’s asleep in Sydney at the moment, but I think he rather likes being considered a genius. My kids have a different family name altogether, I might add, which keeps them safe.
Having said all this, I should point out that Kneipp is my father’s name. My married name is Avril, but in France, you always officially keep your maiden name. Using your husband’s name is only a convention, though few people know this. I use Avril when people only know me as Jean Michel’s wife (the concierge, for example) or for friends we meet together. Sometimes Jean Michel gets called Kneipp as well, which further confuses matters.
When asked for your name here, you write KNEIPP Rosemary épouse (spouse of) AVRIL. Family names are always capitalised in this country and in formal circumstances you give them first. My French students would always say DUPONT Marie, for example, whereas the Anglosaxons would say Mary Brown. It can get a bit confusing, but the capitals help if you are not familiar with the person’s given name.
Notice I’m using “family name” and “given name” here as opposed to first name (or Christian name) and surname, since they are no longer politically correct and, above all, can lead to confusion. The terms in French are nom de famille (family name), prénom (given name, which literally means pre-name, which is a bit contradictory considering what I’ve just said) and nom de jeune fille (maiden name).
But, revenons à nos moutons, as my father used to say in his schoolboy French. I shall henceforth be known as Rosemary. However, do keep using your own pseudonyms, such as Maple Leaf, Kiwi, Jane’s cousin and Jane’s cousin’s friend, if you’re happy to keep them!
Some interesting posts this Wednesday on very different subjects. Stephanie, the Llamalady from Blog in France, interviews English cyclist Adam Ruck, author of France on Two Wheels, about his bike trip across France. Australian blogger Frugal First Class Travel, whom I discovered recently, describes the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. She also has lots of tips for winter travelling. Regina from Petite Paris, the Australian website that has all those wonderful B&Bs in Paris, talks about all the French words that exist in English. Enjoy!
Croc Monsieur: Meet Adam Ruck, The Man Who Cycles in Crocs!
Interview by Stephanie, the Llamalady, from Blog in France
with Adam Ruck, author of France on Two Wheels“… a terrific guide to the culture, history, food, B&Bs and other French delights”. He also blogs on cycling and skiing in Adam’s Blog
It’s amazing who you meet on Twitter. Through my @llamamum account, I happened across Adam Ruck, author of France on Two Wheels. As a keen cyclist, I’m always interested to find out about fellow cyclists so I contacted Adam and asked if he’d write a guest post for me. And here it is.
Many travel books start as a publishing or fundrasing idea, and most travel articles start as that ghastly word, an angle. Others develop out of a real holiday or journey, and my book, France on Two Wheels, falls into that category.
A friend rang me to say he was looking for someone with whom to ‘bicycle’ (he does hate the word ‘cycle’ unless applied to washing machines or the economy) to or from Switzerland. I agreed to the return trip. Read more
One man’s faith – a visit to Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
by Frugal First Class Travel, an Australian who loves to travel – especially in Europe – and who has gradually learned how to have a FirstClass trip on an economy budget, without missing out on anything!
I’m not a religious person. In fact I’m a card carrying atheist. But I couldn’t help but be so moved when I recently visited the Sagrada Familia – the Gaudi designed Basilica in Barcelona. Building has been underway for over 100 years now, and there are plans (hopes?) to complete the works in time for the centenary of Gaudi’s death in 2026.
Gaudi was a very religious man apparently, and it was this faith that drove him to spend the bulk of his life (and indeed until the end of his life) dedicated to this project. But the Sagrada Familia is not just a testament to religious faith. Regardless of your own spiritual beliefs, consider this:
Gaudi knew the church would never be completed in his own lifetime, but he did it anyway. Read more
English French Words
by Petite Paris, an Australian-based service for Australian travellers and fellow Francophiles
It’s incredible (“uncreaaabl”) how many English words are actually French!! And every single one of them sounds so chic (oops there’s one) and glamorous!! Décor, couture, décolletage, negligee, deja vu, rendezvous, fiancé, boutique, bric-a-brac, encore…
At this moment I am listening to my Michel Thomas audio – learning to speak French without any memorizing, writing, homework or even trying for that matter. It’s brilliant! No pressure to learn, just listening and ‘hearing’ what your listening to. Its amazing how it flows in and stays there – the next thing you know your constructing sentences in your head with so much ease it couldn’t possibly be normal. Its a practical and modern method of teaching. I highly recommend it!! [AND SO DO I – Fraussie] Read more
There’s an expression in French: “C’est un vrai marchand de tapis” which literally means “he’s a real carpet salesman” but which actually means someone who haggles over small sums.
I’ve managed to find nearly everything I need to make our gîte in Blois as perfect as possible, but I am still missing two small bedside rugs. I can’t find anything I liked, new or old, at a decent price although I have found two large rugs without much problem. With the arrival of winter, especially for barefoot Australian guests, I am starting actively to look again.
Our favourite fishmonger at Saint Eustache market
It’s Sunday and we’re at the market. I’m waiting for the fish to be gutted so I stroll over to a little stall selling carpets and rugs. This is not a particularly cheap market, I might add. I ask the lady how much a small one would cost as there are obviously no prices. “Oh, I’ll ask my husband. He’ll be here in a minute”. A friendly man arrives and says, “One hundred euro. Pure silk”.
“Oh, that’s too expensive I’m afraid,” I answer. “It’s for my gîte and I can’t afford to spend too much. I’m not saying it isn’t worth that much, just that it’s above my budget.” I don’t really care whether I buy them or not and am certainly not paying a hundred euro each. “Well”, he says, “tell me how much you’d be prepared to spend.”
Our bargain rugs
“More like two for a hundred,” I say. “Ok, you can have two for a hundred”, he says, just like that. I’m flabbergasted, but I don’t show it. “I just need to check with my husband”, I answer. He goes off to his truck to find the second rug while I go back to the fish stall and tell Relationnel that I’ve found the rugs I’m looking for. “Go ahead,” he says. “You know what we need.” “Yes, but I still want you to have a look.”
I’m wondering if maybe these rugs are fake or something. I go back and chat with the lady. The man returns without the second rug but says that he has two others that are the same, just a different colour. I hum and ha, though I really think the second colour is probably better anyway.
In-situ to keep our guests’ feet warm
Relationnel arrives and turns the rug over and looks at the label. He approves so I hand over the cash and the man rolls them both up. As we walk away, I explain to Relationnel what happened. He is astonished, “Bravo!” he says. I never bargain for anything usually – I’m totally hopeless, he’s much better at it. “He’s not a marchand de tapis for nothing”, he says. I walk along feeling very pleased with myself!
N.B. The Expat Blog Award closes on 15th December – don’t forget to leave a review if you haven’t already – http://www.expatsblog.com/blogs/526/aussie-in-france
