A drunk stumbles out of a bar by Porte de Hal metro station and walks up to the boyf.
Drunk: Can I have a cigarette?
Boyf: I don’t have any.
Drunk: What, you can’t even give me a cigarette?
Boyf: No, I don’t have any.
Drunk: I’ll kill you!
The drunk is led away by a friend. As he leaves he turns and shouts
Drunk: Look out everyone – he’s a cop!
Tags: brussels, cigarettes, cops, drunks, porte de hal
I foolishly started my first French lesson of the year by telling my teacher that I want to be fluent by the end of the year (possibly by August). Admittedly, I’m aiming for a very basic level of fluent. I just want to understand what people are saying to me, and not feel like crying when I can’t reply. When I manage to reply they normally understand, so that’s pretty good going I think. So, anyway, the teacher thinks this is possible – assuming I actually do some homework, and maybe push the boat out and try actually talking to people rather than panicking – it’s strange how I’m so shy in French.
Out and about, if I stumble across my words in French, people are very quick to switch to English; I’m trying to be better about just continuing in French when this happens, but SHY, remember! I also have a lot of friends who really really like talking in any language, who seem quite keen to take over from me when I get stuck. One of the francophones has been known to take over in English on occasion.
I work in an English speaking office, where, if spoken to in a different language, it’s usually someone who forgot I wasn’t Scandinavian. When my colleagues do talk in French I can follow the conversation, although sometimes missing the point and laughing at the wrong things. If I join in, I usually do it in English to avoid missing the small window of opportunity to say something meaningful (or just something, really) – colleagues have an annoying tendency to continue in English when I do this.
I’ve managed to get past my old problem of focussing on the words that I don’t understand and completely missing vast chunks of conversation while trying to translate something, which usually turns out to be utterly useless – deciding whether they were going to or from somewhere, for example. Now it’s all about piecing together some meaning from what I do understand (yay!). Another old issue was that I couldn’t remember a word unless I knew how it was spelt, which was a total nightmare – this is also loads better.
Current game = listen to people speak English as a foreign language, then work out how I would say their sentence in French. Not really a game, but good practise I suppose.
Tags: french, language, resolutions
Google launched it’s street view service in Belgium a few months back, which is pleasing enough in itself. However, they’ve gone one step further and added a cone of frites/chips/fries to the little search dude.
I can’t even begin to tell you how happy this makes me. Google = honorary Belgians.
Picture the scene… It is 21st July, the Belgian national day, and you are enjoying your first ever proper experience of a national day (being British, you don’t really know when your day is). You are lazy, and forget to post this on your blog for a looooong time.
You’ve cunningly avoided a heavy storm by staying in your office for a while. Sadly, this means you also missed the parade. Well, you saw the end of the parade, but it could just have been a bunch of ambulances pootling along Rue de la Loi. You’ve followed the soggy crowds into the park, where you’ve enjoyed a glass of cava and peered over a fence at the royal palace, wondering if anything is going to happen (no, apparently not).
After a burger, you’ve made your way to Sablon, where people are giving out bags of water which look like they should contain goldfish. They do not, more’s the pity. They may actually contain rain water…
Sitting with friends, you enjoy some 7 euro glasses of wine served by the surliest waiter you’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.
Then a group of people dressed as Asterix characters walk by. You are confused… isn’t he French?
Next, in a more traditional display of patriotism, a marching band head past.
…followed by a drunk woman, marching along behind.
Belgium, I salute you!
Tags: belgium, drunks, national day, patriotism
I’m not normally one to advertise on behalf of a bank, but I do have a bit of a soft spot for the ING lion.
Rawr!
Look at him. How could you NOT have a soft spot for him??!? He’s so stern and orange (and Dutch, apparently).
During a recent trip to the UK, I noticed that ING seem to have taken over there. They’re like the new Santander. I don’t really disapprove – check out the cute adverts!
I am terrible at translating French words into English. Unfortunately, les Belges either haven’t realised this yet, or they enjoy watching me suffer. It all started out simply enough…
‘Comment on dit plâtre en anglais? You know, what you put on a broken bone.’
‘What do you call this? We say trombone.’
‘What do you call the snail without a house on his back?’
For the record – plaster cast, paper clip, slug.
Since then I’ve been asked for more complex translations – phrases, obscure things which I wasn’t aware there were names for – you get the idea. The problem is that I’ve incorporated a lot of French words into my vocabulary, and, for example, when asked how to say convivial in English, the thought process goes something like this:
Convivial… I know this word… Is it an English word…? It sounds French… But maybe we use it, too… Maybe I’ve just picked it up… No, surely English speakers would understand it… Oh shit, they want an answer…
‘I think we say the same…’
Les Belges looked sceptical.
B-O-A-R
Last week, we were talking about sanglier.
Belge 1: ‘Comment on dit sanglier en anglais? Is it wild swine? It’s wild swine in Norwegian.’
Belge 2: ‘Yes, it’s wild swine in Dutch, too.’
W2B: ‘Hmm… We say wild boar.’
All Belges literally ROFL.
W2B: ‘What?’
Belge 1: ‘Boar? What kind of a word is that? Hahahahaha, that’s so stupid! Spell it for us!’
Belge 3: ‘This is the thing that Asterix hunts? B-O-A-R. It’s a stupid word.’
W2B: ‘What’s wrong with boar?’
All Belges: ‘B-O-A-R. Boar! Hahahahahaha.’
W2B (dejectedly): ‘Is this because I laughed at your languages?’
I’m still confused, but a few days later I was cheered up:
W2B: ‘Comment on dit shredder en francais?’
Belge 1: ‘Beeeen…. Destructeur du papier.’
W2B: ‘Haha, destroyer of paper. I like it – logical!’
Belge 1 proceeds to look on the internet to check.
Belge 1: ‘Déchiqueteuse? That’s not a word… Oh, maybe it is.’
W2B: ‘It’s ok, I preferred your word. I think I’ll use that.’
It’s good to know it’s not just me who struggles with her own language…
I should also probably invent slightly more impressive code names for les belges.
Tags: boar, french, translation
I presume a solar powered rucksack might be useful for charging things on the go…
But, when you live in Brussels, it’s probably not worth the initial outlay.
Admittedly, it’s quite sunny at the moment, but this guy has been parading round in this for months…
Tags: bag, belgium, solar power
I can’t remember the reason, but I once spent a long time looking up the word owl in French (I was looking in the wrong side of the dictionary, sssh!). Once I had confirmed that OWL = HIBOU, I finally understood why there is an owl on the giant vending machine Hiboo Shop* at Gare du Midi.
The Owl Shop
Once I had made this discovery, I spent a long time pondering why it was called the Owl Shop. It’s a vending machine, it’s open all night… like an OWL!!!
*It’s spelt wrong because the Os are the eyes of the owl. I had to find a picture to confirm the O situation, and the fact that the owl was involved in the make up of the name. Oh yes, we go to great lengths to provide you with the facts here!!!
Tags: brussels, gare du midi, owl, shop
Kim Clijsters - Quite likes tennis
On our road there’s a clothes shop who’s most notable features are the R&B being pumped out of the speakers and the red carpet they’ve laid across the pavement.
On his walk home the other night, my boyfriend spotted some guys in their fifties, one standing on the carpet, singing along and conducting to an invisible orchestra and the other watching his friend while clutching a half drunk bottle of rosé.
On another day I spotted a group of drunks wandering along the road, trying to open a bottle of wine at 8am.
Maybe there should be a sub-category for ‘Belgian Drunks of the Week’ – the ordinary people don’t stand a chance at the moment!
Tanks!!
Spotted in a lift at the Commission some time ago.
Tags: belgium, european commission, tanks
