June 28, 2012: One Night, in Provence

          I went to a dinner party at Catherine and Barry’s tonight. There were nine other guests, all Bargemonaise, all very gracious and interesting, and all speaking French. For four hours.

       I thought my head was going to explode.

       Still, I had a lovely time. Toward the end of the evening, I found myself in the garden talking to a retired Dutch jet pilot named Klaus. I was explaining to him where in Bargemon Tevye and I live, and at one point I stopped to say, “Je suis desolee, mon Francais est trop terrible” (“I’m sorry my French is so bad”).

        Klaus nodded gravely. “Your French isn’t bad,” he said in perfect English, “But your pronunciation is absolutely dreadful!”

“We live at the end of Rue de la Prison,” I was trying to tell Klaus.

 Thing I Hate Today: Booking airplane seats online


One Response

  1. Broiled Brisket of Potted Purse in Bargemonaise, topped with a delicate yet obtrusively piquant negligee sauce? Ah, mais oui.

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