Yes, I wore these underpants yesterday

All this time to make amends. What do you do when all your enemies are....French?

This week, you will be generously provided with a direct translation, courtesy of Babelfish, of my French blog entry. The purpose is to give you an idea of the type of English I hear on a regular basis while also providing a demonstration of the deterioration of my own speaking abilities as I begin to speak more and more in direct translations. I have made some minor changes to render the text legible, as we know online translations are not of the highest quality (and neither is my French). In doing this, we all get an experience of a different type of English, and I keep up the normal blog. Thus, we all benefit magnificently from this experiment, with the only downside being that reading the blog becomes an irritating, borderline painful experience for you, the reader. Good idea, right? Original text available at http://espritailleurs.blogspot.com/

Even if I did not work but 7 hours this week, I stays occupied. My courses had passed rather well, and I made a small observation: I cannot to prevent myself from laughing each time a pupil uses the words " Big Boss" to describe someone very able to do an activity. Where did they learn that? Apparently the Big Boss of humour learned them how in order to make me laugh.

Soon I will have 3 hours of course private per week. Being given the lack of work as assistant to the high school and middle school, I think that this one is a good opportunity. Moreover, I prefer to work with small groups.

I am on holiday now, and Wednesday evening (feb 11) I leave to Paris for one week at Robert's. For Maria, the assistant of Spanish, that will be her first time. For me, it is rather a week to spend time with Robert and other pals at Paris. Then, I will go to Marta's in San Sebastian. Sweet. I impatiently wait to be able to see them.

There are 5 or 6 days ago, I entered the kitchen towards 18:00 to nibble a little bit. There, I find my owner, who has an astonished air to see me. Good evening, Madam. I live here since 3 months, and I call myself Greg. Yes, it goes well, and no, the weather is not too cold for me.
In any event, she asks to me whether I eat already. " No," I say, and in a funny manner I add, "I just to buy gouda (cheese), and now I often want to taste it!"

Oy… She says to me that is not a problem, and I can take my snack, but the gouda is not the best cheese. Hmm, of agreement, but I did not ask you for your opinion, Madam. I try to defuse the situation with a joke and one is in a cheese debate. How this is French! Nevertheless, I think that she do not like my gouda because of the fact that this comes from the Netherlands, and not La Belle France (called LBF hereafter). Pff, I have nothing of that to make.

Since this meeting, I finished my gouda....and there is a reason that this cheese is called gouda. It is more " good" than all others! In short, I was at Lidl (a grocery store) there are 3 days, and I decided to test a new cheese which calls itself "Edam." As you can guess well, it is a cheese of the Netherlands. To make a small revolt against my owner and LBF, I have a half kilo (about a pound) of Dutch cheese in the refrigerator...and each evening, I eat very small little, so that can remain there for a long time.

Today, I stays washing my clothing by hand in the bathroom when I heard a sound in the room just next to my bathroom. Considering that I had used much water, I lowered the volume of my music (Foo Fighters, of course), and moved back towards my room in order to pretend to not have been doing anything. However, there, I heard the voice of my owner in the room right beside mine. Similar to the battle of Dunkirk, I was there, encircled there by the forces of the enemy. I could not what make. Rather than to leap by the window, I remained quiet. After a few moments (in which the heart beat quickly), the attack was inexplicably stopped. Fortunately, I had dodged a confrontation.

I recently wrote an email to the director of this program of housing, and it seems that I will move at the end of February. However, I am supposed to write a letter to the family almost a month in advance by saying that I will not any more live here. I do not know if I must describe my reasons, but they know well that I remain in France until May. Perhaps I can say that my dog died, and it is necessary me to attend the burial, even if this last takes place one month after the event? Fortunately, I am on holiday now, and I will be soon in Paris at Mr. Robert's. On the other hand, it nonetheless means that I must spend one week in this apartment after the holidays. That could be a delicate stay, not? Nevertheless, I do not worry. When I am of return, I will ask cordially "Thank you well for addressing me as vous" (the more formal "you" in French), all the while filling the refrigerator with kilos and kilos of cheeses of Netherlands origins.

**I do not mean to slander my host family in any way. They are nice people, but the fact is that I do not enjoy the circumstances in which we have to coexist. When writing about this, I am merely expressing my discomfort with my living situation. Our relations are in no way hostile, just humorously uncomfortable.**