Save Tonight

I'm off to France heinously early Tuesday morning, and I can't wait. Perhaps this is when I'll discover France as my grandparents did, like Nabokov, like my franophile acquaintances. Taking into account my admiration of the French Revolution, their food and wine, I'm afraid I'll have to admit that, 'oui, je suis francophile'. Albeit, a reluctant francophile. The only country I've visited more frequently is England, and I lost count at 10 visits. Can't be healthy to count past ten, anyway. So, Darlings, I'm off to sip wine, speak horrid French, wear a wide brimmed hat and my Chanel glasses (I chose a shape to fit the hat, I'm so vain!). I can't wait. If I don't chicken out, I'll bring my massive Norwegian-French dictionary, and learn a verb, or so, a day. My yearning for languages is back! Trilingual. Doesn't that sound alluring? Norwegian and English, bilingual; it's so common. Add Russian, and I'm trilingual. That does sound noble. If I only had the discipline, I'd learn French as well. As it stands, it is terribly tempting. First, reading the Russians in their original language is more than enough. P.S: what can't wikipedia provide you with? The piece on multilingualism is very informative. I'm a comound bilingual, in English and Norwegian. If only Russian could come that naturally to me in a few years. Disclaimer: this was written under heavy influence of wine, four courses, and a 'dessert cart' (served, I may add, by a deliciousy flirty waiter). It's a family tradition: we have dinner at a restaurant called 'Brasserie France', to celebrate summer and whatever we've accomplished through the course of the previous year; too much wine, at least four courses, my brother has escargots – and the rest of us steal a few –, and we eat till we can take no more. And, most importantly, I did not proofread.

Save Tonight

I'm off to France heinously early Tuesday morning, and I can't wait. Perhaps this is when I'll discover France as my grandparents did, like Nabokov, like my franophile acquaintances. Taking into account my admiration of the French Revolution, their food and wine, I'm afraid I'll have to admit that, 'oui, je suis francophile'. Albeit, a reluctant francophile. The only country I've visited more frequently is England, and I lost count at 10 visits. Can't be healthy to count past ten, anyway. So, Darlings, I'm off to sip wine, speak horrid French, wear a wide brimmed hat and my Chanel glasses (I chose a shape to fit the hat, I'm so vain!). I can't wait. If I don't chicken out, I'll bring my massive Norwegian-French dictionary, and learn a verb, or so, a day. My yearning for languages is back! Trilingual. Doesn't that sound alluring? Norwegian and English, bilingual; it's so common. Add Russian, and I'm trilingual. That does sound noble. If I only had the discipline, I'd learn French as well. As it stands, it is terribly tempting. First, reading the Russians in their original language is more than enough. P.S: what can't wikipedia provide you with? The piece on multilingualism is very informative. I'm a comound bilingual, in English and Norwegian. If only Russian could come that naturally to me in a few years. Disclaimer: this was written under heavy influence of wine, four courses, and a 'dessert cart' (served, I may add, by a deliciousy flirty waiter). It's a family tradition: we have dinner at a restaurant called 'Brasserie France', to celebrate summer and whatever we've accomplished through the course of the previous year; too much wine, at least four courses, my brother has escargots – and the rest of us steal a few –, and we eat till we can take no more. And, most importantly, I did not proofread.