Monday, July 16, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
"And with this?"
"Et avec ceci?"
In France that's how they indicate the same idea Americans do when asking "Anything else with that?" or "Will that be everything?"
Literally, it means "And with this?" which has always sounded a bit on the presumptuous side to me if not a little insulting:
Now that you mention it, yes I had wanted an extra four croissants and a pink macaron to go with my baguette! I just forgot to mention it the first time around. Now that you have verbally enabled me, I am empowered to order everything I actually wanted! Gratitude overflows from the source springs of my soul. See, look. It's emanating from my eyeballs.
Right.
So supposing I had forgotten to order everything I wanted...it's entirely possible, human memory being the surprisingly porous thing that it is...supposing I had forgotten something, would this phrase help bring it to mind?
"Et avec ceci?"
"And with this?"
"Beer" is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear a question like that. A nice pint of Leffe would go down well with a baguette, it would go well with a sandwich, it would go well with one of those gooey almond croissants. Yes, I want a beer "with this", with them.
Except they don't serve beer in bakeries.
A day on the beach in Hawaii. A winning lottery ticket. A massage. There are always other things I would like with my order. But none of them are actually on sale by the person asking me what more I want "with this". And so in the end it just serves as a reminder for all of my unfulfilled longings unattainable in a bakery. I am left with nothing more than a wistful smile and the baguette I ordered in the first place.
Today, after I ordered my sandwich, she asked me "Et avec ceci?"
I politely responded, "Juste quelques serviettes, s'il vous plaît."
"Just a few napkins please."
They're free, and they might actually come in handy.
In France that's how they indicate the same idea Americans do when asking "Anything else with that?" or "Will that be everything?"
Literally, it means "And with this?" which has always sounded a bit on the presumptuous side to me if not a little insulting:
Now that you mention it, yes I had wanted an extra four croissants and a pink macaron to go with my baguette! I just forgot to mention it the first time around. Now that you have verbally enabled me, I am empowered to order everything I actually wanted! Gratitude overflows from the source springs of my soul. See, look. It's emanating from my eyeballs.
Right.
So supposing I had forgotten to order everything I wanted...it's entirely possible, human memory being the surprisingly porous thing that it is...supposing I had forgotten something, would this phrase help bring it to mind?
"Et avec ceci?"
"And with this?"
"Beer" is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear a question like that. A nice pint of Leffe would go down well with a baguette, it would go well with a sandwich, it would go well with one of those gooey almond croissants. Yes, I want a beer "with this", with them.
Except they don't serve beer in bakeries.
A day on the beach in Hawaii. A winning lottery ticket. A massage. There are always other things I would like with my order. But none of them are actually on sale by the person asking me what more I want "with this". And so in the end it just serves as a reminder for all of my unfulfilled longings unattainable in a bakery. I am left with nothing more than a wistful smile and the baguette I ordered in the first place.
Today, after I ordered my sandwich, she asked me "Et avec ceci?"
I politely responded, "Juste quelques serviettes, s'il vous plaît."
"Just a few napkins please."
They're free, and they might actually come in handy.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Sandwich Sharing
I ran out to get a sandwich, or rather two, once my brain made the connection between my wandering mind and my empty stomach. It was almost 3.
On my way back, a woman with ratty clothing and indecipherable speech approached me. All I gleaned was that she wanted money to eat.
My first sandwich had not survived the two block walk back to the office; it was lying in my hand in plain view of the hungry beggar. So I broke it in half. Or rather I broke off a piece, because it wasn't exactly half. In fact, it was a good deal less than half. With flashbacks to childhood arguments over portion size, guilt crept over me. Was I being fair?
I extended my arm towards her with the less-than-half sandwich. She took it, continuing to mumble. This time I caught what she was saying, "Money for..."
I said "no" and continued my return trip, the guilt wiped clean.
On my way back, a woman with ratty clothing and indecipherable speech approached me. All I gleaned was that she wanted money to eat.
My first sandwich had not survived the two block walk back to the office; it was lying in my hand in plain view of the hungry beggar. So I broke it in half. Or rather I broke off a piece, because it wasn't exactly half. In fact, it was a good deal less than half. With flashbacks to childhood arguments over portion size, guilt crept over me. Was I being fair?
I extended my arm towards her with the less-than-half sandwich. She took it, continuing to mumble. This time I caught what she was saying, "Money for..."
I said "no" and continued my return trip, the guilt wiped clean.
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