Tag Archives: Friday’s French

Friday’s French – gîte

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Even French people confuse gîte and chambre d’hôte. I know this for certain because when I tell people I have a gîte they often start talking about le petit déjeuner which, of course, is only served in a B&B.

Our gîte and future permanent home
Our gîte and future permanent home

Before it came to mean a self-catering cottage in the country, gîte, which comes from the verb gésir, derived from the Latin jacere (to lie down), meant any place to sleep either permanently or temporarily.

Offrir le gîte et le couvert, for example, means to offer board and lodging.

A gîte, I have just learnt, is also a resting place for hares. Ten points to anyone who knows the equivalent in English! I certainly didn’t. “Hares do not bear their young below ground in a burrow as do other leporids, but rather in a shallow depression or flattened nest of grass called a form. All rabbits (except the cottontail rabbits) live underground in burrows or warrens, while hares (and cottontail rabbits) live in simple nests above the ground, and usually do not live in groups.” Thank you Wikipedia. And thank you Susan from Days in the Claise who has posted a photo of a form.

A mineral deposit is also called a gîte, as in gîte de zinc but an oil deposit is a gisement de pétrole. And pétrole is not petrol as we say in Australia for gasoline – you fill your car with essence in France. Pétrole means oil or petroleum. Diesel engines take gas-oil or gazole (pronounced gaz-well, don’t ask me why!)

beef_16x9 Boeuf

Gîte (short for gîte à la noix) is also a cut of beef corresponding more or less to what we call topside (UK) or bottom round (US). French and English butchers don’t cut up beef in the same way so quite often there is no real equivalent (entrecôte, côte de boeuf, T-bone, etc.), as you can see from the drawings. You can read more on the subject in Posted in Paris.

Another expression with the verb gésir is Ici gît le roi d’Espagne (here lies the King of Spain). Other examples are: un trésor qui gît au fond des mers = A treasure lying on the bottom of the sea and ses vêtements gisaient sur le sol, a somewhat literary way of saying that his clothes were strewn all over the floor.

So now you know the difference between a gîte and a chambre d’hôte – and a lot more useful things besides!

Friday’s French – raisins

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I made my Christmas cake this week using the recipe handed down to my mother by her mother. For the last 8 years, I’ve been able to buy all the dried and candied fruit (peel) at my local market but the stall has closed so I’ve been chasing around Paris for such simple ingredients as currants and raisins.  Not so simple in France however.

xmas_cake

The word raisin is an interesting one. In French, it means grape and what we call raisins are raisins secs (dried grapes). However, in Australia (and apparently the other Commonwealth countries), raisin describes a particular sort of large dried grape.

The most common raisins secs in France are what we call sultanas in Australia, except that they are darker. However, you can buy sultanines here which are usually a golden colour and sometimes called raisins blonds.

Our currants, which are very small black raisins secs are raisins de Corinthe – currant is a degradation of the word Corinth.

As far as I know, there is no generic term in Australian English for dried grapes though raisin would seem to cover the lot in American English.

When hunting for my currants, sultanas and raisins, I came across other varieties of raisins secs: raisins de Malaga (in Spain), raisins de Muscat (like our muscatelles), raisin de smyrne, .

christmas_cake_dried_fruitIf you buy mélange de fruits secs, you’ll find yourself with a mixture of raisins secs and nuts, whereas dried fruit in English only includes dried grapes, figs, abricots, etc.

Now, that’s  a word that doesn’t exist in French – nuts. You have to specify the type: walnut  = noix, hazelnut = noisette , cashew nut = noix de cajou, peanut = cacahuète, almond = amande. They all come under fruit sec, but that’s not very satisfactory, is it?

Friday’s French – père de famille

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Now I bet most of you don’t know what this post is about. Père de famille, you say, “father of the family”? Don’t all fathers have families? And why not mère de famille? Aren’t père and mère enough?

Well, there is an added meaning. Of course. Un père de famille ne doit pas prendre de risques means that a man who has a wife and family to think about shouldn’t be taking any risks. We could say a family man as well in English. Une mère de famille pense toujours à ses enfants. Funny, but we don’t say a “family woman”.  I can think of a “woman with a family” or maybe “a wife and mother” and even “housewife” in some contexts. You may have other suggestions.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about. Believe it or not, père de famille and more specifically, bon père de famille, is also a financial term, which always amuses me.

Yesterday, I came across it when I was translating a takeover bid: gestion de la Société en bon père de famille. “Management of the company like a good family man” would be a literal translation but you certainly wouldn’t find it in a contract! I decided on “good, safe management of the Company”.

The expression often goes hand-in-hand with investment: placement de père de famille is what we call a gilt-edged or safe investment. Valeurs de père de famille are gilt-edged or blue-chip securities.

The masculinity of the expression is not surprising – French women were kept out of money matters for a very, very long time. It was not until 1965 that women no longer needed their husband’s consent to choose their own profession or open a bank account. Astonishing, isn’t it?

And it was much later – only I can’t find the date – that women were finally entitled to see and sign the family’s tax declaration. Up until then, the husband en bon père de famille, n’est-ce pas declared both his and his wife’s revenue and could refuse to even show her the declaration!

Women were given voting rights in New Zealand in 1893, in Australia in 1902, in the UK in 1918 (but you had to be 30, equal suffrage only came in 1928) and in the US in 1919 (though women could vote in Wyoming as early as 1868) while French women finally voted in 1944. Enough said.

Friday’s French – chance, fortune and luck

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What luck! What bad luck! What good luck!

Quelle chance ! Quelle mauvaise chance ! Quelle chance !

That’s right, it’s not a mistake – quelle chance twice – because you don’t say quelle bonne chance in French. You can say bonne chance all by itself though to wish someone good luck. Otherwise, chance is always good.

J'ai de la chance d'avoir cette vue - I'm lucky (or fortunate) to have this view
J’ai de la chance d’avoir cette vue – I’m lucky (or fortunate) to have this view

In English we have three words to mean more or less the same thing – chance, fortune and luck.

Fortune in French usually has a financial meaning as in il a fait fortune, which means he made his fortune.

In literary contexts, fortune can be used in our sense of luck or fortune but I’ve never heard anyone use it.

My Larousse gives the expression La fortune sourit aux audacieux which means “Fortune favours the bold or strong or brave”. They are all translations of the Latin proverb Audentes fortuna iuuat, Fortes fortuna adiuuat, Fortuna audaces iuua or Fortes fortuna iuuat.

In most contexts, chance  is used in French to convey the English luck or lucky or fortunate. There is an adjective, chanceux and its antonym malchanceux or malencontreux but they’re rarely used in comparison with lucky. Jean Michel couldn’t find any examples of chanceux in normal speech.

Quelle chance tu as d’habiter le Palais Royal = You’re so lucky to live in the Palais Royal.

Tu as de la chance d’habiter le Palais Royal = You’re lucky or fortunate to live in the Palais Royal.

Il n’a jamais de chance = He’s always unlucky.

J’avais de la chance de trouver ce que je cherchais = I was lucky to find what I was looking for.

Elle avait de la chance d’être là au bon moment = She was fortunate in being there at the right time.

Just for the record, il est fortuné has nothing to do with being lucky – it means he’s wealthy.

So what about “chance” in English? For example, how do you say “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him”? Well, here “chance” means “opportunity” or “possibility” so we would say je n’ai pas eu l’occasion (ou la possibilité) de lui parler.

But if it means “luck” e.g. he hasn’t much chance of winning, you’d use chance but in the plural: il n’a pas beaucoup de chances de gagner.

“Chance” in English is used in a lot of different contexts that I won’t bore you with. Just a couple that might be useful though.

I went there on the chance of seeing him = j’y suis allé dans l’espoir de le voir. Here, “chance” means “hope”.

No chance! not a chance = jamais ! jamais de la vie !

Alors bonne chance in your future use of chance! And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate!

Friday’s French – avoir le droit & entitlement

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In a comment on last Friday’s French, Conrad from Canada asked me how I would translate the word “entitlement”. His example was “The community lost their vistas because of a new housing project; they were convinced that they were entitled to these vistas, so it created great stress for years to come.”

The sort of vista where you wouldn't like a hospital to appear.
The sort of vista where you wouldn’t like a hospital to appear.

I would have spontaneously found a solution using droit but Conrad feels that it doesn’t incorporate the idea of an historic right that entitlement does.

So I asked my translators’ community TLSFRM for some ideas. There were several suggestions such as il leur revenait de (plein) droit de conserver leurs vues; ils pensaient qu’il était légitime de conserver leur vues; ils pensaient qu’ils étaient fondés à conserver leurs vues and ils pensaient qu’ils étaient en droit de conserver leurs vues.

Another possibility is ils estimaient qu’ils n’auraient jamais dû être privés de leur vue which means turning the sentence around completely – another prime example that words in one language rarely overlap in another and that it’s often the context that provides the full meaning.

There are other everyday contexts in which avoir droit à or donne droit à is used in the meaning of entitlement:

Elle a droit à une bourse: she’s entitled to a scholarship.

Cette carte vous donne droit à des places gratuites: this card entitles you to free seats.

The meaning, of course, is that of having the right to something, except that we use a different word in English. The same applies to the following examples:

“J’ai droit à deux morceaux ?”, a child would ask if he wants two squares of chocolate. An English-speaker would say “Can I have two pieces?” or “Am I allowed to have two pieces”.

Tu n’as pas le droit de le taper: you’re not allowed to hit him or you musn’t hit him.

So, can we always use droit when we want to say “allow”. Of course not, that would be far too easy !

She allowed me to borrow her shoes – elle m’a permis d’emprunter ses chaussures.

Smoking is not allowed : il est interdit or défendu de fumer.

The teacher allowed me to go early : le professeur m’a autorisé de partir de bonne heure.

You need to allow 28 days for delivery : Il faut prévoir un délai de livraison de 28 jours.

We are not allowed much freedom : on nous accorde peu de liberté.

I could go on and on and find a different French verb each time! I’m sure you have lots of other examples.

Friday’s French – capital soleil

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vichyIt’s interesting that such a wonderful expression should exist in French and not in English, or at least in Australian English where it would be very useful, given all the sun there compared to what we get in France (it’s a very rainy day today).

Your capital soleil is the amount of sun that your body can be exposed to during your lifetime without causing something disastrous like skin cancer. It’s used very widely in advertising for sunscreens in France. Vichy even has a brand called Capital Soleil.

When I’m translating for cosmetic brands, I usually have to rewrite the sentence completely:

Chaque individu dispose d’un capital soleil déterminé à la naissance becomesEach person can only absorb so much ultraviolet radiation during their lifetime without developing cancer”, for example.

Close in meaning is capital santé which is sort of health and fitness combined. Surprisingly, there is no word for “fitness” in French so salle de fitness and centre de fitness are used.

Yet the French go on fitness kicks as much as anyone else. Maybe the idea could be expressed using forme. J’ai retrouvé la forme means that I got back in shape or got fit again and il a la forme means he’s very fit (well, in the physical sense anyway – it can also mean “he’s in great form”).

So back to capital. Here are some other examples of capital in French where we wouldn’t use “capital” in English (examples from the Robert-Collins dictionary which, if you’re going to use a bilingual dictionary, is probably the best because Harraps has become outdated and the others are pitiful):

le capital de connaissances acquises à l’école = the stock or fund of knowledge acquired at school

la connaissance d’une langue constitue un capital appréciable = knowing a language is a major asset

le capital artistique d’une région = the artistic wealth or resources of a region

elle a su bâtir un capital confiance = she managed to win everybody’s trust

Capital is used in the financial sense of course and we have all sorts of lovely expressions there as well, sometimes using “capital” and sometimes not:

capital circulant = working capital, circulating capital

capital décès = death benefit

capital d’exploitation = working capital

capitaux fébriles = hot money (I love that one!)

capital initial = start-up money

capitaux propres = equity capital (where propre = own and not clean! “Dirty money” is argent noir or sale)

capital social = share capital

Any more suggestions?

Friday’s French: bonne femme, nana, belle plante, gonzesse

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An Australian friend asked me recently exactly what bonne femme meant and whether or not it’s derogatory. A French friend of hers seemed to be using it all time and told her it has no real significance. Well, maybe that’s so in his vocabulary, but frankly, I wouldn’t like someone to call ME a bonne femme.

belle_plante

So why, you may ask, would being called what ostensibly means a “good woman” not be welcome? Well, I guess it’s because you don’t refer to people as bon in French in the English sense of “good”. To say, “she’s a good woman”, you’d have to say c’est quelqu’un de bien. You could also say C’est une femme bien but there is a slight nuance, more the idea of being nice rather than good. Des gens bien are nice or decent people rather than good. Un type bien is a nice guy or a nice bloke.

“She’s a good secretary” would be expressed as elle est très bien comme secrétaire. “He’s a good chap” would be c’est un brave type. C’est une brave femme could also mean “a good woman” in the sense of someone who overcomes obstacles, is hardworking and well-meaning.

So I asked Jean Michel about bonne femme, since he’s the Frenchie, but I didn’t get very far.

If you say sacrée bonne femme, he tells me, you’re referring to someone who’s annoying – or quite the opposite! Otherwise, he doesn’t really know.

C’est la bonne femme qui travaille à la boulangerie would seem to indicate that the person has a lot of character.

Perhaps calling someone a bonne femme is not particularly polite but isn’t exactly derogatory either. What do you think?

My friend then asked about nana, nénette and sacrée nana. No problem here. Nana is simply slang for girl, about the same register as chick. It can also mean girlfriend. Nénette is just an diminutive while sacrée nana can be negative or positive depending on the context.

And while we’re on the subject of women, we might take a look at some other expressions use to describe the fairer sex.

The first time I heard c’est une belle plante, I thought it was horrible, but I suppose it’s no worse than “she’s a fine specimen”. It refers to her figure rather than her face. It’s definitely positive in any case.

Gonzesse, on the other hand, is definitely derogatory and vulgar and saying that a man is une vraie gonzesse means he isn’t virile enough. It can also mean prostitute and a woman who is easily fooled.

Do you know any other similar expressions?

 

Friday’s French – Reflexive verbs

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I don’t usually write about grammar. I learnt French at high school in Australia where we did a lot of grammar in both English and French and, believe it or not, it was something that appealed to me, a bit like maths somehow. However I have some friends who are having difficulty with the reflexive so I thought I might try to help.

grevisse

We don’t have reflexive verbs in English, of course, which is probably why they pose problems to people learning French.

We wake up in the morning, get up, get dressed, comb or brush our hair and brush our teeth, without any help from anyone else and we wouldn’t dream of saying “I woke myself up, I got myself up, I got myself dressed, I combed my hair myself and I brushed my teeth myself”.

Yet that is what you have to say in French, je me suis réveillée, je me suis levée, je me suis habillée, je me suis peignée et je me suis brossé les dents.

I think most people get the concept, but have trouble organising where to put all those pronouns, especially when there is a second verb involved. I’ve been thinking about it and maybe the best rule of thumb is that the me, te or se and the nous, vous and se all have to be right next to the first person pronoun: je me, tu te, il/elle se, nous nous, vous vous, ils/elles se.

So if we go back to our verb from last week, s’embrouiller, we can’t say J’étais m’embrouillé because the me has to be next to the je. The sentence becomes Je m’étais embrouillé, although we’re much more likely to say Je me suis embrouillé (unless the second part of the sentence requires the imperfect, but that’s something else again).

Now, just to make things a bit more complicated, you need to make those past participles agree. Even the French often get this wrong, I’d like to point out. I always have my little Grevisse Le français correct so I can check if necessary.

So, the basic rule is that, with the auxiliary être, the past participle has to agree with the direct object if it’s before the verb. Well, this is the case here because me, te, se and so on are direct objects (or COD as the French say – complément d’objet direct). Je me suis coupée, ils se sont blessés, nous nous sommes habillées (if we’re all female) and nous nous sommes habillés (if there is at least one male).

On the other hand, in the case of je me suis brossé les dents, since it’s not me that I’m brushing, but my teeth, there is no agreement. . It’s because the direct object is after the verb. Other examples are elle s’est coupé le bras, nous nous sommes lavé les mains.

There are a few exceptions to this rule, but, frankly, unless you’re writing to be published, I wouldn’t worry too much : se nuire, se parler (parler à soi), se plaire (plaire à soi), se ressembler, se rire, se sourire, and a few more you’ve probably never heard of and will never need to use, i.e. ils se sont plu l’un à l’autre.

I hope you’re not too confused!

Friday’s French – s’embrouiller

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Well, when I left some homework at the end of last week’s post about “confusing”, I didn’t realise it was so difficult. My apologies.

The last hollyhocks of the season
The last hollyhocks of the season which have nothing to do with s’embrouiller ou confusion!

Two brave souls did, however, take up the challenge. Both found a good solution for the third sentence i.e.

3) Imminent and eminent are easily confused words.

Il est très facile de confondre les mots imminent et éminent.

On confond facilement le mot imminent avec éminent.

But the other two sentences caused a lot of confusion to say the least.

1) Are you still confused about how to use confuse in French?

2) I was confused when nothing happened.

Now, I asked a couple of Frenchies for help and the best we seem to have come up with are the following:

1) Avez-vous toujours du mal à savoir utiliser le verbe “to confuse” en français?

2) J’étais étonné qu’il ne se soit rien passé.

If nothing, it proves that “confusing” can rarely be translated literally.

Both my contributors attempted to use the verb s’embrouiller and I realised that my explications musn’t have been very clear.

The past participle “embrouillé” cannot apply to a person. You can have “une histoire embrouillée”, “des idées embrouillées”, “les paroles embrouillées”, but neither you nor anyone else can be “embrouillé”.

If you want to say you got confused about something or muddled up, you have to use the reflexive verb: je me suis embrouillée en voulant suivre ses explications – I got confused trying to follow his explanations. Il s’est embrouillé dans ses réponses. He got his answers muddled up. It’s all confused in my mind.

François Hollande s’est embrouillé sur la baisse de la TVA pendant de son discours: François Hollande got confused about the drop in VAT/GST during his speech.

Another slightly different meaning can be seen in the following sentence: Autour de vous, tout s’embrouille, les images deviennent floues ou semblent irréelles. All around you, there is confusion, the images became fuzzy or seemed unreal. Tout s’embrouille dans ma mémoire. It’s all mixed up in my memory.

Sometimes people confuse s’embrouiller et se brouiller which can mean to have an argument: je me suis brouillé hier avec ma copine: my girlfriend and I had a fight yesterday.

It can, however, be used to mean “confuse”: tout se brouilla dans sa tête:  everything became confused or muddled in his mind. And guess how you say “scrambled eggs” in French? Oeufs brouillés!

All very confusing, isn’t it?

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