On sleepy writing, historian-beach-folk, beach-mobiles, and the French verbal toolbox.

On this fine Saturday morning, whippping through the French countryside in a steel box, I admit I am a little sleepy. This may result in adverse affects on the quality and quantity of this blog. Nevertheless, the dire importance of the facts I have to share requires me to push onwards; for indeed, although this blog has become increasingly cheesy the past few weeks, I am not prepared to throw down my arms just yet. And so, my coup de resistance, my defiant thrust in the face of cheesey menace, here is my sleepy blog entry #5*.

The past few weeks have been filled with a great deal of travel, running, befuddlement and bread. I begin with the travel: myself, along with a few chosen cohorts, visited La Rochelle. It may have been two weeks ago, it may have been three weeks ago. Time is fluid. La Rochelle is a very exciting place for historians and beach-folk alike. I don’t mean to say that there aren’t any historian-beach-folk out there, but their number is statistically insignificant. I have no idea what that means. In any event, the historian or historian-beach-folk will find a number of neat things: the historical vibes left by the impactful Siege of the Rochelle, coordinated by the absolutist minister Richelieu in 1627; in a former prison tower, the detailed carvings left by 18th and 19th century English and Dutch sailors; in a guard tower by the sea, a very comfortable medieval privy that, instead of endangering the peasants, endagers the fish; and many more things that I failed to visit in a half-day. For the beach-folk or beach-folk-historian, there are many beaches, and of the beach-folk, there are many; I take this to mean that the beaches are pleasant. In fact, la Rochelle was one of a number of pioneering beach towns in the 19th century. La Rochelle, along with a number of other beach-towns, spearheaded innnovations such as the beach-mobile, a sort of sun-shielding hut on wheels that you can bring in to the ocean with you. I atttach a picture below. I am not sure why such a marvel no longer exists, though I have a theory; beware, for I venture into the dimly lit cigar parlor of sociology: in the 19th century, the European elite were all about avoiding sun exposure, which suggested working outdoors like a peasant. In the 20th and 21st, the industrial revolution made tans a sign of the upper crust, those who didn’t have to work indoors in factories. Thus, the status value of the sun-blocking beach-mobile diminished. A tan does not a beach-mobile make! This just in: it turns out the proper term, coined by Wikipedia, is a “bathing machine”. This sounds a great deal more intimidating so I’m going to stick with my terms.

Here’s a picture of some folks hanging out with their beach-mobile. Source: 1902 Stereopticon card, accessed via Wikipedia. A stereopticon is bit like a projector, but older.

In other news, there are three pizza joints on a half-kilometer (heh) stretch that leads to my host family’s house. This is significant for the following reason: on Monday nights, I battle it out in ping-pong until 9:00. Then, because there aren’t any buses on Monday nights, I run a few kilometers back to my house. Generally I’m a little winded by ping-pong, carrying a backpack and pretty hungry. This amounts to a tough mental battle. However, I know that in the last stretch, there’s a good chance, if the wind is blowing in the right direction, that I’ll get a whiff of a Domino’s four cheese. And that’s enough to keep my going.

Finally, perhaps, I offer a short review of French verbal tics. I find this subject fascinating, because seemingly all the French I meet make these sounds. I imagine there are similar sounds in English, but familiarity hides them from me. Nevertheless, here are the results of my inquiry, translated into English sounds as best as possible:

“Awhhhhh”. Generally employed to denote that the subject is being unreasonable. Example: “hey stop eating all the cheese in my refrigerator” response: “Awhhhhh” “Pffzzt”. Incredibly difficult to replicate, this sound expresses total ignorance to a subject, and sounds a bit like a fart. Example: “hey where did you put that pitchfork” response: “Pffzzt” “Ayyy-ehh!”. As far as I can tell, this is a rough equivalent to “ow” in the English language, denoting discomfort. Example: “Feel the wrath of my axe, fiend!” Fiend: “Ayyy-ehh!” “Oh la la”. A stereotypical classic, the American prononciation leaves much to be desired. Suffice to say, it sounds less snooty coming out of a French persons mouth than “ooo la laaaa”. Denotes surprise, amazement, impressiveness, or a difficult to translate sentiment of “whoa this has the potential to turn out badly”. Research continues. Example: “We must cross this impressively large river!” response: “oh la la”. “Up-lah”. A transitive expression that accompanys the movement of a heavy object from one place to another. Example: “Pawn to e-4!” chess pieces are made out of lead shwoop-clunk “Up-lah!” “Beh”. A verbal French stocking stuffer. Need a few seconds to think? Not really sure what you’re talking about? Throw a few “beh” ‘s in there to slow things down. Example: “why is Pi irrational?” response: “behhhh” (“Pffzzt”)

Such are the results of my inquiry. If anyone has any insight into why Pi is irrational, I don’t want to Google it so please tell me.

This week I voyage with the good Sister and see some more old stuff.

This weekend (indeed I am writing this a little while later – I’m not a “write it all at once kind of guy!”) I went to Paris. In the interest of getting some print on the paper, I will synthesize the visit: old friend, cool metro, starkly-white-scary-lookin’-freaky-history church, lots of walking, cool stairs, the good Sister and general surreality. Paris is a mind-boggling place. I wish I could tell you more, but I am sleepy.

An excellent week to all.

• I admit I am too lazy to check if it really is #5. I’m letting my subconscious do the math here.

Cool pics for cool folks!