Au Cochonnet Marin

Or Happy New Year as you plebeians would say.

As long as I am wading trough Latin, I’ll share with you a sentence that could prove to be very useful in Latin countries:
Ubī sunt lātrīnae? Where is the bathroom?
But I am digressing…

I woke up this morning expecting things to be different.
After all, it is a new year, and like all new things the newborn annum should be exciting, shiny, pleasurable to use or wear.
But so far, it doesn’t feel much different from the last days of last year.
How could it be? It is new isn’t it? The wrapping is still on the floor…

If not entirely satisfied, could I get a refund?

Like every calendar year, politicians and businessmen find it expedient to raise the price of just about everything without antagonizing too many people.
They are banking on Holiday Fatigue, and it works. When revelers will wake up from their drunken stupor it will be too late to object.

In the blessed New Year everything (including your blood pressure) will go up, not down.
So why are people celebrating?

In a few days, like millions of Capricorns (Kate Middleton, Michelle Obama, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, Gerard Depardieu) I will be one year older.
Do I get a medal for this? Or a price break in strip joints?
Nah… Just a lousy cake.

Unlike antiques, our value doesn’t increase with each passing year. Where is the logic of that?
After careful evaluation, I conclude that it doesn’t pay to get elderly. If you can help it, boycott it.

Only consolation: on this January 1, 2014, the sun is shining and unlike the rest of the country the temperature is mild and pleasant.

But where is the rain?
Will we have to save water again?
I still remember the bad old days when we were told “If it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down”.

With the help of some French-friendly Huron Indians I am considering a rain dance.
It might work better than the empty incantations of our elected officials.

In spite of it all, « Bonne et heureuse année mes amis! »

Alain

 

On Christmas day I was invited to break bread with my wife’s relatives.
It is an honor and even though this is always an interesting experience I don’t readily accept this kind of invitation.

Since my knowledge of Russian is rather limited, sitting silently for a few hours with a bunch of boisterous Slavs can be a rather trying occurrence.
In this particular occasion, I was the only non Russian-speaking guest and was kept in a virtual straight jacket for most of the evening.
I know a few useful expressions like “fuck-off”, “I am cold and hungry”, “pass the vodka”, “where are the women?” but those are not enough to sustain a polite conversation throughout an entire evening.

My dining companions tried a few times to engage me in English but it didn’t last very long and they soon reverted to their mother tongue.
I don’t blame them. I understand. We native French, often carelessly exclude English-speaking folks when we outnumber them, but to be honest, we feel more comfortable in our native tongue than in our adopted language.
It is not an excuse but a reality.

During the evening I caught a few familiar sounding words, but like a flock of geese they were flying high and fast and I could not really make sense of what was being said.
Once, when everybody was laughing I asked “is this about me?” They assured me it was not and laughed even harder.

When we first arrived, the dining table was loaded with tempting “Zakuski” but I knew from experience that I had to pace myself.
On my first Russian diner experience I thought that these delicious tidbits were the entire meal and I stuffed myself.
Imagine my surprise when two hours later (after a lively twerking interlude) they brought the main course.
Live and learn!

During the meal, in the Russian fashion, many toasts were proposed and cheerily endorsed by the guests with a very generous shot of vodka.
To be friendly I toasted everybody and everything, not knowing who or what I was toasting.

Drinking vodka is an acquired discipline and Russians start practicing early.
When they reach adulthood (?) they are consummate drinkers and seem unaffected by large consumption of firewater.
If you are smart, don’t ever try to outdrink a Russian!

The evening ended with tea and pastries and everybody headed home nursed and comforted by their Florence Nightingale drivers.

Hа здоровье (Na zdorov’ye) and Happy New Year to all!

Alexandrovitch

The New Year is around the corner and like many people my head is full of good resolutions.
Not for me, for the people around me.
Me, I walk on water. There is no need to improve the product. It is the damn people around me who need help.

Jean-Paul Sartre said in a play “L’enfer, c’est les autres” (Hell is other people) and I agree. Without the “others” life would be a dream.

I am a Capricorn, and we are said to be “industrious, efficient and organized.”
I can vouch for that. I am a highly organized person and I don’t see eye to eye with scatterbrained subspecies.
When somebody talks to me, I want the facts… just the facts ma’am…

What, when, where? Or as my friends in the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (KGB) would say: Chto? Gdye? Kogda?

I don’t like to be kept in the dark. When I ask a question, I want a precise answer. I don’t fancy ambiguous situations. Ambiguity creates unease, and unease can easily turn into resentment and armed conflicts.

So first of all, what are you talking about? No meandering, no convoluted introduction. Tell me in a few words what’s troubling you.

When did this happen? Today, yesterday, three months ago?

Where? In your garden, on the freeway, in your bedroom?

If you can manage to tell me all of this in a few coherent sentences, you are going to be my BFF (Best Friend Forever, or at least for the next foreseeable future).
And I don’t ever tell me “I told you” when you pertinently know that you did not.
I am not senile yet.

So here is your resolution for 2014 (and beyond):

“I will tell no drivel and be truthful, accurate and timely when I communicate with my friends” (especially me).

By the way, you don’t need to follow this credo with Republicans, Tea Party zealots or religious freaks. When dealing with fanatics an exception to this rule is absolutely understandable.

You don’t have to thank me. Making you a better human being is my only reward.

Happy New Year to you all!

Alain