Round Up!

I've been a bad blogger this week. First I had to write my papers, then I had to start 30 hours a week at my internship, and finally, instead of sleeping in on the 4th of July, I got up early to volunteer at a school event. I've had a couple of thoughts rolling around in my head to post, so here they come:

One
Jube picked me up at work the other day, surprising me outside of the building. He pulled the car up and said, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle, do you need a ride?"

I laughed and got in. "I have the nicest boyfriend in the world!" I said, catching myself too late. "I mean, I have a great husband!"

Two
I think that I was lucky that I didn't speak any French before I moved to France. I just caught a short video of myself explaining something in French from February of 2005. Wow, I was bad! Thinking back on it I don't remember speaking that poorly. I think that learning in France helped me avoid the embarrassment of the Language Learner that comes from thinking you should be able to speak a language. I felt that way in Spain sometimes, thinking, Come on, you know this! Why is it so hard for you to understand?

Three
Tennis. I'll bet you're bored of me talking about it, aren't you? Well, I'm never bored with watching tennis! I am, however, bored with American announcers. In France, the announcers are certainly biased toward the French players, but they don't try to hide it. They urge them on like real fans--"Allez Grosjean! Allez la France!" In the US it is equally more subtle and more annoying. Instead of enjoying a well-played match, they pepper the commentary with suggestions like this: "She's lucky Venus mishit that return." Or, "Poor little Gasquet! That was a good serve for him! That's Roddick's average!" They say it with straight faces (I'm assuming), without any irony at all, giving the impression that they can't help it if the American players are just better than everyone else. If only there was one announcer who seemed like he enjoyed watching tennis, I would like it more.

Four
Tonight Jube, Lorene, Willy, and I are going to the Bier Garten. I'll tell you how it goes. There are only a few words or phrases I know in German, and das Bier is one of them. I also know Ich kann kein Deutsch, which came in handy in Austria, and "Twenty Minutes!" thanks to Run, Lola, Run. Funnily enough, that also came in handy in Austria. As we were checking into our hotel, Jube tried to communicate in his Bac-level German with the workers. Getting frustrated with us, the woman finally told us, "mumbleblehbleh zwanzig Minuten!"

"Jube, Jube!" I clamored, "I know what that means! She said 'twenty minutes!'"

"I guess we'll come back in twenty minutes, then," he said to me.