New knitters, new skills, new friends.

A couple of months ago one of my DB’s work colleagues contacted me to ask if I would consider teaching her to knit. It was an easy decision, of course I said yes. We had already met a few times at work functions so I knew we had plenty in common as fellow antipodeans and the idea of being able to pass on the knitting spirit along with some skills to young knitters delighted me. In a flurry of emails we finalised arrangements and by the time we met for our first lunchtime get-together our party of knitters had already grown to four. The following week another new recruit, then another and another, and now we are regularly 6 or 7: a New Zealander, an Australian (of Italian descent), 3 (or more) French and 2 Venezuelans. Knitting is a globally transmissible addiction!

It’s been quite illuminating for me to think about how I knit and explain that. At our second meeting I proposed that I would try and explain as much as I could in French and the knitting pupils, all fabulously multi-lingual, enthusiastically assisted with the language; a fair exchange, a win-win and a lot of fun. Some had no knitting experience, even holding the knitting needles felt uncomfortable at first, others had tried before, two are left-handed – oooh challenging for right-handed me – and now they are all knitters.

The transition from careful d-e-l-i-b-e-r-a-t-e movements w-r-a-p-p-i-n-g the yarn r-o-u-n-d behind the needle, p-u-l-l-i-n-g the stitch t-h-r-o-u-g-h the loop and o-f-f the needle to the rhythmic click clack of needles in nimble hands is a lovely reward for all of us. These debutantes have mastered cast on and off, knit and purl and conversations are peppered with discussions of point mousse (garter stitch), point jersey (stocking stitch), point de riz and point de blé (seed or moss stitch and double moss) , dimunitions and augmentations (increases and decreases).

New skills are added week by week, the first projects have been finished and new, more challenging WIPs are on the needles. I am so proud of them.

I’ve reflected on my knitting year with a sense of satisfaction that in addition to the knitting projects completed and the new skills gained through those, I’ve been able to pass on the baton – or should I say the needles – to a new group of knitters to enjoy knitting as a social activity, a means for mental stretching and an effective antidote for stress in busy lives. Here are some of my knitting projects from 2015 that haven’t already made it into a blog post.

 

 

How not to knit a chicken, and other language laughs

I knitted a jersey

From the other end of the table a sweet little voice said “Ah, I wondered why you were knitting a chicken” and with that the knitters around the table erupted into friendly giggles.

Let me explain: It was knit night at L’ OisiveThé, the café full of knitting friends was abuzz with chatter in French and English. My fellow knitters know I like to practice my language skills and encourage conversation en français. Someone asked me what was I knitting. “Un pull” I replied, or more correctly I intended to reply. A jersey is un pull, a word I know well and use with ease. But clearly, with too much ease and not enough attention to correct pronunciation, because what I actually said was une poule -a chicken – I am knitting a chicken!

Around the table amid chuckles Anglophones practised and Francophones coached the different sounds: pull sounds (more or less) like “pewl” and poule sounds like pool. The words and their sounds are etched in my mind thanks to the impromptu and thoroughly amusing lesson.

It’s not only the French-English traps that generate laughter. English alone has provided plenty of entertainment when accents play a part. During the discussion of summer holiday plans I mentioned to an American friend that some of our knitting colleagues were heading to the Shetlands on a knitting trip. I could tell immediately by the look on her face that we had a translation problem. With my New Zealand accent and her American ears, what do you think she heard? Yep, it sounded like our friends were heading somewhere for a really crap holiday. Quickly clarifying I meant the Shetland Islands north-east of mainland Scotland solved the problem. The Shetlands then made perfect sense for a knitter’s holiday destination.

My Shetland Island Fair Isle inspired vest. A project from early 2013

Amusing, inspiring, enlightening and cultural; knit night enriches my Parisian life week after week.

Oh la la, j’arrive!

It seems we’ve been here long enough to have adopted a few French words into our everyday chit chat at home – our own peculiar Franglais.  We hear these little phrases and words everyday from friends, on the tele and just out and about.  They are so endearingly French, and being able to use them makes us feel just a teeny bit French ourselves.

Take the verb arriver for example.  When I was at high school (a looooooong time ago – last century in fact) my beginner text book told me it simply meant to arrive.  Now I understand all the nuances of this ordinary little verb, it’s way more interesting than I’d imagined.  Usually announced with a bit of a flourish it turns the truth – “I’m still on my way” – into a positive statement; a personal triumph even.

We have a friend that we meet up with every couple of weeks.  She’s always just a tad on the late side.  A couple of minutes after the agreed meeting time a text from her will ping into my inbox announcing j’arrive!  She’s not actually arriving just yet, what she means is that she’s just got out of the nearest Metro station and is walking to the café we’re at and will be there in just a few minutes.

Cafe on rue de Levis

Waiting at the appliance store for someone to help me, an endless stream of terribly busy sales folk bustle past holding important documents until eventually one makes eye contact and announces j’arrive madam as he whisks past.  He means yes, I’ve seen you there with that slightly impatient look on your face and I will come and attend to you soon; I’m on to it!

Then there are the phrases that didn’t make it into my text book; like oh la la.  I’m sure that I’ve mentioned this before because it never ceases to amuse me; especially in the rugby season.  It’s an essential tool in every commentator’s repertoire.  That one little expression can be used to convey every emotion from great excitement to wincing pain and utter despair.  A rapid oh la la la la la la laaaaaa accompanies the nerve wracking moments when the All Blacks (of course) are right on the try line, the weight of the pack pressing hard on the French defenders, man after man attacks the line, will the defence hold?  In contrast a deep, guttural oh la la transmits the horror of one of those bone-crunching tackles that stops a player in his tracks, leaving him prone and gasping for breath.

Then there is pffff!  It’s not a word or a phrase, just a sound.  But you have to be able to render a truly expressive pffff to be French.  It’s hard to define exactly what it means, I’ve interpreted it as “yeah whatever,” “who knows”, or “who cares”.

So, we learn our grammar, listen to the tele, practise our oh la las and try to spit out j’arrive with the panache of Parisians.  Are we really getting to be a little bit French? Pffff!  We’re having fun.

 

Haircuts and random topics of conversation

Getting my hair cut causes me some angst even when I am on home territory.  Here, there’s even more to give me the heebie-jeebies; not only explaining what I want, and hoping it will happen, but coping with the expectation of some general conversation – en français of course.

I’ve recently found a hair salon (Àlapointe) that I like on rue Lamarck in the 18^th.  I’ve nailed the right language and process for booking a rendezvous and today, for my second visit, I sailed through the routine questions like “is the water the right temperature for you?”  I show a picture to help explain the style of cut I want and I’m reasonably competent with conversation about the weather, explaining where I’m from and how long I’ve been living in Paris.  Tick. Tick. Tick.

That only leaves the dreaded Random Topic of Conversation.  What will it be, will I understand, or will I plummet into the black hole of incomprehension?

Settled in the chair, the scissors snipping near my ears, the hairdresser asks me something about “genne com pee yon”.  Ahhh what?  Clearly I look puzzled because he repeats it – it still sounds like “genne com pee yon.”  I’m at a disadvantage.  Without my glasses on I can’t see his face to observe the way the sounds are formed, I need all those visual clues to hear the word and understand.  I turn in the seat and peer at him – the scissors stop – and he says again “genne com pee yon”.

“OH! Jane Campion (imagine my best New Zild twang there); oui, oui, oui, elle est néo zélandaise bien sûr, elle est Présidente de la jury du Festival de Cannes cette année” I witter.  I ask en français if he’s seen Top of the Lake; he has, just the first 2 episodes so far.  We agree she’s very talented.

This guy must be a film buff; he mentions Avatar and James Cameron, Peter Jackson, the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Weta workshop.  I have enough vocab to respond in some way for each subject explaining that I come from Wellington where PJ and Weta are based.  I more or less managed to tell him about being at a cricket match at Westpac Stadium in Wellington some years ago when PJ asked the crowd to make marching sounds and battle chants for sound effects in the second movie of the Rings trilogy.  He got the gist and seemed amused and impressed – impressed with PJ, not my French I mean.

So I left the salon smiling for a few reasons.

1. My haircut is very good (again), and the hair cut experience totally pleasant.
2. Despite the faltering start I understood the random topic conversation points and even if my responses were less than perfect they were on the same topic at least.
3. I felt rather proud, all over again, of NZ’s film industry fame.

Worth a coffee and scone with delicious strawberry and (I think) rhubarb jam at Soul Kitchen further up at number 33 rue Lamarck to celebrate another successful adventure in Random Conversation Topic territory.

 

 

Numbers and Napoléon

Adieu de Fontainebleau

French numbers are tricky; I struggled with them at first – not the math, but the words and their sounds.  The way certain numbers are spoken in French is quite different to that in English.

Eighty in English is quatre-vingts in French – literally translated four-twenties.

Ninety-three becomes quatre-vingt-treize – four-twenty-thirteen, and seventy seven becomes soixante-dix-sept – sixty-ten-seven.

Not only the translations seemed challenging to my Anglophone brain but the style of speaking numbers is different.  I’m used to hearing the number of a train journey or flight number stated as digits.  At Gare du Nord I’d normally listen for an announcement for train “nine two one three”, instead it would be announced as neuf-mille-deux-cent-treize, nine thousand two hundred and thirteen.  As for the sounds themselves, try this € 177.58:  cent-soixante-dix-sept euro, cinquante-huit or to my ears sonswazondeesseteurosankontweet.

To be able to understand in live conversation I realised I would have to stop translating and just get in tune with the pattern and rhythm of numbers.  I practised by counting in French things like my knitting stitches and exercise repetitions at the gym just to get those pesky numbers embedded in my brain.  Now I rattle off my date of birth when required and my mobile phone number tumbles out more easily in French than in English; it’s a more musical number in French than in English anyway.  When I’m buying food at the markets I hear the price of my purchases first pop most of the time.

Last weekend my Dearly Beloved and I went to a very special antique auction in the town of Fontainebleau not far from Paris.  The Osenat auction house had collated a sale of over 400 items relating to Napoléon I and the First Empire.  The timing of the sale was organised to coincide with the local celebrations for the bicentenary of Napoléon’s departure from Fontainebleau in April 1814, soon after he had signed the abdication order there on 6 April.  The catalogue included coins, medals, letters written by Napoléon and others involved in military campaigns, paintings, furniture, decorative objects, clothing, pistols and swords.

A winning bid

The auction was an exercise in numerical brain gym, the numbers crackling in the air like pistol fire; lot numbers, dates, bids.  We kept up as the auctioneer changed rhythm and pattern: treize cent (13 hundred), quartoze cent (14 hundred), mille cinq cent (one-thousand 5 hundred), sometimes switching deftly to English for dramatic effect when an international bidder on the phone with an auction room translator hesitated momentarily before plunging in with the winning bid.  Lots were sold on bids ranging from € 50 to € 200,000 generating an occasional round of applause for worthy victors.

We knew the real test of our numerical ability would be to bid!  It’s daunting in English let alone French, and certainly not the place to muddle your cinqs and your cents.  DB had spotted a couple of small items he was interested in.  We waited patiently through the first hundred or so lots, observing and listening intently to be sure of the drill.  One lot quickly surpassed the estimated value – and our willing buyer price – the bids coming in rapid fifty-euro volleys.  The other item – a success for us.  The pace was manageable, the auctioneer didn’t dally and with his second bid DB secured Lot#136 as a small souvenir of our French antique auction experience.

The auction also attracted media interest due to controversy over several lots for which the authority to sell had been disputed.  A legal judgement issued on the day of the auction resulted in these items, including one of the nightshirts worn by Napoléon in his last days of exile on St Helena, being withdrawn from sale at the last minute.

All in all it was a fascinating afternoon immersed in numbers and saluting Napoléon on the approach of the two-hundredth anniversary of the occasion he bid adieux to Fontainebleau.

Napoleon bust

Checking out antique ink well

Small bronze medallion of Napoleon I in profile

Crochet class

Dune shawl – picture from L’oisivethe website

I’ve been inspired to take up crochet – as well as knitting.  In the past crochet has left me thinking, well…… ambivalent at best, but a few things nudged me towards a state of “like” and then there was the Dune shawl (L’ Étole des Mers).  This design hooked me, took me through the last loops of uncertainty and now I’m a crochet convert.  Dune was created by Cécile Balladino for L’Oisivethé and Marie Claire Ideas magazine and featured in Issue 97 in July 2013.  I love the way the design blends the colours and conveys a pretty, soft summery picture.  Every time I saw the shawl it made me think about the possibility of crocheting something, possibly in the colours of a rose garden.  I put that on my list of Knitting Year Goals.

Learning in action

As a follow on, Cécile and L’Oisivethé have collaborated to offer crochet classes at the tea salon.  I can crochet a little already – thanks to my Mum’s teaching – so the 2 and a half hour class was just the trick to augment my skills enough to make these pretty granny squares.

There were about 8 or 9 of us at the class, we had tea and cookies and scones and worked our way through the construction of the square, making the colour changes from one round to the next and transforming the circular pattern into a square in the last round.  It was all in French, which I could understand, although Cécile spoke English for me when I needed help.  Alongside me was a young American woman who spoke French fluently, so we confirmed crochet manoeuvres chatting in French and English as we went.  All in all it was a super way to spend Saturday morning and I made creditable first squares.

Starting rounds

 

The round made square

 

 

 

 

 

Our finished squares alongside Cecile’s book and the Dune shawl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve crocheted a few more squares at home, following the pattern and the basic crochet stitch instructions in Cécile’s gorgeous book Crochet Bohème.  Somehow learning to crochet in French (ie listening and reading in French) has enabled me to “get it” this time.  Maybe it was the visual learning, or maybe I had to try harder, anyway it worked; I can repeatedly produce the granny squares.

Now I am in the process of selecting colours for the rose garden blanket.  I’ve got a few sorted and am trying out combinations to confirm the last few of colours.  These squares will be my interlude project – I always like to have a bit of variety, an interlude to other projects that are all one colour, or are not so transportable.

I’m happy that I’m making good progress on my Knitting Year Goals; the rose garden is underway, I’ve got a small bit of finishing on another project before I take pictures and give you a proper progress report.  À bientôt, I’ll post that soon.

Preparations for the rose garden blanket

Living in Paris – my first anniversary

Montmartre street

Hard to believe but I’ve just passed the first anniversary of living here in Paris.  What an experience it is; the fulfilment of a long-held wish for both of us (me and my dearly beloved).

Amongst the items on the wish list of things to do and see during our time here I included my aspiration to be able to speak French.  I’ll be brave and tell you that my actual goal, written down in black and white, is to be able to speak French fluently by time I am 60 years old.  I have a few years, ( 4 and a half to be precise) to keep practising yet, but they will go fast so I’m making the most of the chance to immerse myself in the language now.  It seems a good time to give you a little review of my progress.

When I arrived, although I had been having lessons and could manage a classroom conversation, putting my language skills to the test “in the wilds” of urban Paris was pretty damn daunting.  Out and about at the market, or shopping at the supermarket, I often couldn’t hear the words distinctly enough to understand what was being said to me.  On the Metro other people’s conversations were just background noise that I didn’t tune in to, and speaking on the telephone was a nightmare.  I had to pluck up courage to make a call and rehearse my spiel beforehand.

Twelve months on I have definitely progressed.  Hurrah.  Sometimes I surprise myself when vocabulary pops out my mouth that I didn’t realise I knew.  Other days my brain denies any knowledge of even common verb conjugations and all French grammar rules.  However,  I can now understand snippets of overheard conversations and  at the market and in shops it’s not very often that I don’t know what is being said to me.  I can even reply and although I might not always get the response grammatically correct, at least I can answer on the correct topic without breaking out in a sweat.

Ready for lunch – a weekend away in Charolles

Just recently we took the TGV train to the Burgundy region for the weekend.  On board the train, a man sitting near us made a funny comment in relation to an announcement by the train manager.  Everyone within earshot laughed, including me – I had understood the announcement and his comment and I got the joke! Woohoo.

Occasionally though, I am caught short when I don’t know the word for an everyday item – like breadcrumbs.  I had put breadcrumbs on my shopping list and only realised at the supermarket that I didn’t know the French word.  My phone with its handy online dictionary was charging at home.  I asked a chap stocking the shelves for help, explaining en Francais that I didn’t know the word but I was looking for “breadcrumbs.”  No, he didn’t speak English so my next step was to try and describe breadcrumbs en Francais.  How would you do that?  I went with explaining I wanted le pain concassé (literally crushed bread), I didn’t think I could get through the whole Hansel and Gretel trail of breadcrumbs routine, but hoped he’d get the gist.  He directed me to an area that looked hopeful.  I found the breadcrumbs and now know the word is la chapelure.

 

I can have short conversations with people; the hairdresser, the beautician, the sales staff at yarn stores and fashion boutiques.  No surprise; that’s because I’ve had plenty of practice with the latter ones!

Yarn shopping

I have made restaurant bookings over the phone and been satisfied with success when we turned up to find that we were indeed expected.  I can ask vendors on market stalls for help, like how to cook the great big cèpes (mushrooms) that are in season right now, and understand the instructions, imparted with generous detail and accompanying actions, for cleaning, preparing and cooking these monstrous things that look like they could kill you.

So, I’m reasonably satisfied with progress.  Listening to French TV and reading the headlines on the French newspaper feel very ordinary, everyday things.  There’s plenty more practice required though and I shall enjoy the next 12 months living life en Francais.

 

 

Cepes

Cepes and Girolles

 

A huge cepe

A pattern to my days

Katherine in Berlin

It’s almost 12 months since I moved to Paris; the time has flown by.  There’s an enjoyable pattern to my week, as well as events that are pinch-me amazing because I couldn’t do them in NZ; like going to Berlin just for the weekend with my daughter Katherine.

All these places I’ve wanted to visit are only a hop away, and the weekend in Berlin had the added bonus of seeing my darling girl.  We had a great time sightseeing, exploring the very hip and trendy boutiques in East Berlin, shopping in the chic West, and I got to see the remains of The Berlin Wall.  The fall of the wall has been a point of inspiration for me during my career.  My friend Collette once bought me a little souvenir piece of it that I kept on my desk to remind me when it was tough going that great and positive change can be achieved.

The moment I realised the wall was covered in used chewing gum.

Remnants of the Berlin Wall at Potsdamer Platz

 

 

The pattern of my week includes social knitting get-togethers.  I’ve joined up with a lovely group of knitters; we meet every Tuesday afternoon at a café that is also a sewing boutique in Montreuil called De Fil en Cafe run by Marianne, who is an expert seamstress.

There are two Kiwis, Barbara and me, (I introduced you to Barbara in my last post), two Englishwomen, Antoinette and Sarah, and Yuko who is Japanese.  Yuko is an expert in all yarn related crafts.  She knits and crochets the most beautiful and delicate garments and accessories.  She’s our coach for anything tricky.  We usually speak in French because that’s the language common to all, though I’m not very good at it, and now Yuko is learning English so we are interchanging between English and French.  Barbara and Antoinette are both professional language teachers so we are in good hands.  It’s a real pleasure meeting up each week to enjoy good company and conversation.

Our knitting group settled in the corner space

Knitting in action

The pattern also includes a French lesson with my lovely tutor Martine every second week.  (I confess there are a few holes in the pattern where the homework is meant to be.)  We usually start with a chat, all in French of course, to catch up on each other’s news.  I always try and incorporate some new vocabulary or a grammar rule that I’m trying to master, just to keep it a notch above a weather conversation.

This week’s new vocab included:

le désespoir = despair

se plaindre, (or gémir) = to groan

Yes I’m talking about les courses de voiliers pour la coupe de l’ America. 

I couldn’t see the actual races live; it was probably just as well, instead I watched a live blog on Stuff and I could feel le désespoir in Trevor McEwen’s words as they popped up on the screen.

Martine has a new Kiwi usage for her English repertoire:  “gutted”

A little knitting boutique in Paris

Le Comptoir at 26 Rue Cadet

One of the pleasures of living in Paris for me is discovering knitting, yarn and craft boutiques – and of course to spend time knitting.  This post is about a yarn and craft boutique that’s on my list of favourite spots: la petite boutique du Comptoir on rue Cadet in the 9^th arondissement.  It’s not that far from the Grand Magasins on Boulevard Haussman, I walked there map in hand with no trouble, although the Cadet Metro is closer.

I first discovered Le Comptoir on line a couple of years ago when I was fossicking around on the internet looking for knitting shops in Paris.  There it was, so pretty and interesting; I clicked the Facebook like button and began my followship of Le Comtpoir.  It was good practice reading the updates in French and imagining myself one day visiting and shopping there.  I didn’t know I would be living in Paris at that stage.

I have now visited the real boutique a couple of times.  My first visit was full of anticipation, I had waited to schedule the occasion until my French was a bit better, I felt more confident, and I actually needed some yarn for a particular project.  I didn’t want to shatter my vision of popping in all Parisienne like to parler en français.  There was quite an expectation to live up to, for both me and the boutique itself.

Shelves stocked with lovely yarn

 

I had a lovely visit – it’s a quaint little boutique, with a super range of yarns in all sorts of colours and textures (most of them are sold on line on the boutique site), knitting kits and patterns plus all sorts of other very pretty mercerie – buttons, ribbons, threads – and lovely accessories; knitting needles, craft scissors and books.  I could have spent even longer there looking at things, there’s plenty of reason for future visits still.

I spoke in French, completely for the whole visit, albeit with a few hesitations and probably quite a few mistakes but the owner, Barbara was kind enough to even compliment me on my French.  I bought some gorgeous gold-green yarn, a melange of 70% kid mohair and 30% silk from an Italian brand Grignasco, and some Debbie Bliss extra fine merino lace-weight yarn to make the “Symi wrap” from Rowan Magazine number 53.  I have enough of the mohair-silk yarn to make something else which is an idea still percolating in my head.

So now, the visit is over; expectations were met, the stitches are on the needles and the project is coming along nicely.  I have visions of wearing my stylish wrap on a summer evening promenade.

good progress on Symi wrap

Symi wrap on the needles

French knitting soiree

Last year when I was still home in New Zealand thinking about my new life in Paris I imagined how wonderful it would be to discover knitting boutiques and perhaps join a group of French speaking knitters.   Well I’ve found knitting destinations that have me in raptures. The first one I am going to tell you about is L’ Oisive Thé – Salon de Thé.

Tins of tea

L’ Oisive Thé is a charming little tea salon cum knitting and wool boutique located in the 13th arondissement at 1 Rue Jean-Marie Jégo. The 13th has a rather village like atmosphere, and feels a long way from the intensity of the historic centre of Paris. By all accounts it’s quite trendy too. The boutique-tea salon itself is very bright and pretty; there’s a tantalising range of skeins of coloured wool displayed on the walls, mostly from artisan suppliers in the USA and UK, and shelves stacked with tins of exotic teas. When you visit you can drink tea, have lunch, brunch or a sweet treat while you ponder on your next knitting (or crochet) project. There is plenty of inspiration for sure.

Every Monday and Wednesday evening at L’ Oisive Thé about 20, maybe 25, fellow tricoteuses (knitters) gather for a knitting soirée. It’s very popular so you book your attendance online in advance on the Ravelry website at the L’ Oisive Thé group page, where you can see who else is going and what knitting dramas and projects are news this week.

Tricot soiree

Aimee, owner of the tea salon, is the soirée host and a knowledgeable knitter. She is a delightful young American (from Kansas), married to a Frenchman. The first time I went along her friendly welcome put me at ease straightaway and I’ve been back as a Monday night regular ever since. Most attendees are French but I’ve met another American there so I can revert to speaking English if in need.

knitters in action

I only take my very easy knitting projects because while most of my fellow knitters speak good English, it’s good for me to speak French and practise as much as I can, but I have trouble conjugating French verbs on the run while knitting at the same time – unless I want a random holey lace pattern! I can now follow the conversation for the most part and from time to time participate en français. It’s a very convivial atmosphere; other knitters are patient with me and help out when I need a word here and there. Quite often people going past the window stop and peer in at us – it’s like an aquarium one of the knitters said. A couple of weeks ago a France TV channel came along and filmed us in action knitting elbow to elbow around the dinner tables; wool crafts like knitting and crochet are enjoying a real resurgence in interest here too.

Aimee is very internet savvy so you can check out everything about L’ Oisive Thé online (www.loisivethe.com) including purchasing yarns, and she keeps everyone in touch via Facebook and Ravelry and Twitter. So for me it’s a real find; just what I had imagined, and a sense of belonging in a foreign city.

The friendly team from L’ Oisive The at Aiguille-en-fete (Aimee wearing orange scarf)