Private lessons

"I always think about that invisible connection among us all , what we have in common, as opposed to what divides us"

-Meryl Streep


This week, I took a French course at Berlitz. It was a private course, payed for by the Government. Each day, I had the opportunity to discuss any subject that interested me. You may think it bizarre for me to say this, but I think I was able to express myself more clearly in French than in English because I had to think very carefully about which words to choose. What would have ordinarily been a convoluted discourse became almost zen-like in its simplicity and clarity because I had a limited vocabulary. I had no choice but to say what I meant. So, you could say that what I perceived as a weakness was in actuality a great strength.

French is a beautiful language. When you speak it, you cannot help but feel sophisticated and inspired, and therefore capable of improvising elevated treatises on the the most intimate and profound subjects. The secret is in how you use your lips. I remember that a professor of mine had to pick up a French colleague they did not know at the airport. When he asked his friend how he would recognize the said colleague he was told "just look at the mouth. It will be parted ever so slightly... and the lips will be jutted out. Like he wanted to kiss you, but hesitated." When you adopt this stance for yourself and then try to speak French on top of that, it has a magical effect-- you can say precisely what you think and not be embarrassed by it at all.... For the French are not ashamed by sentiment. To explain what I mean, I want you to imagine saying the following things in English without laughing:

- What is the the nature of man? We know that man is an animal with instinct, but also endowed with reason. Perhaps the existence of both creates conflict between the two, and is the fundamental root of all the problems that plague humanity.

- Why does art exist? Art exists to elevate humanity, but also to console. When one creates art, one can practice what one wants to achieve, but in the moment of performance, it is in the hands of the divine.

- What is the nature of our previous lives? My teacher, Sylvie, told me that in a previous life I was a French noblewoman, perhaps associated with the Basilica of St. Andre. At the very least, I am an old soul who is currently my last life. She said that she was in her last life too, and that she was content not to meet her soul-mate, as perhaps that was asking too much of the universe which constantly inspires her and gives her messages which she cannot understand.

- What role do symbols play in our lives? Consider the oriflamme - the sacred banner of the Kings of France, which rests eternally in the basilica of St. Denis in Paris. Its heraldic device is a flaming red arrow. Ah the arrow. So strong, so indicative of a path to take. But in the end, so deadly.

Comprenez-vous?

Such is the magic of French, that even a phrase like "I have to go to the bathroom" acquires a special musicality and sophistication. In French, if you need to answer the call of nature, you say "Je dois passer au petit coin - I have to pass by the little corner".... If you say this in the right way, like my French teacher Sylvie (who I swear is the long lost twin of Bridgitte Bardot) with the appropriate fluttering eye movements and insouciant smirk, you can make people believe that you are not going to the bathroom at all, but a cute little boite for an exquisite meal and a secret rendez-vous with your lover.

When you exist in this world of the jutting lips and deep thoughts, it is easier to think of yourself as superior to others. One of my teachers, Kasse (who comes from Congo, and therefore is intimately acquainted with the perceived and actual arrogance of the French) asked me if I thought the French were arrogant. I paused, and said that if I were French, I would be arrogant as well (Si j'étais français, je serais arrogant aussi). Of course, English can be poetic too, but only when you think like a French person. That is to say, you must be simultaneously amused, disgusted and inspired by the human condition.

Indeed, I believe that in order to learn a language well, you must first of all think like a native speaker of the tongue. If you want to speak German, you must resign yourself to being angst-ridden, precise, and brutally direct. If you want to learn Italian, you must summon all the passion in your being and make the expression of your ideas a matter of life or death. To this mix you must add sophistication and the knowledge that all roads, real and imagined, lead to Rome. Only then can you speak like an Italian. It also doesn't hurt to wear a really nice suit. When I tried to learn Russian, I pretended that I was a 75 year old Babushka from a collective farm. It worked wonders for my consonants. I know people who speak foreign languages perfectly, but they lack passion and an understanding of the mind of a native speaker. So, in reality, they speak IPA. I also know people who can only speak a few words of a foreign language, but they are masters of communication. How do they do it? With a wild imagination, a perfect ear and ideally, a bottle of wine to share. Failing that, a few choice swear words and a well developed repertoire of facial expressions do the trick very nicely.

It is very nice to occupy your time in the pursuit of learning a foreign language, but the world has a way of intruding on things, and it came to pass that one afternoon I was compelled to explain the history of the Middle East to Kasse. In French. And if this doesn't summon all the vast resources of a language, nothing will. He was baffled by the complexity of it all (who isn't), and replied that we are all, au profond, the same, and that there are more things that link us together than would divide us. What a cliche, you might say. But if you say it in French, it does not seem so embarrassing. And so I would like you to read this phrase, and repeat it often:

"Nous sommes, au profond, tous les frères

Every day of the course, I wore a different pocket square. In this way, I could look sophisticated and European without having to spend a fortune. I also like pocket squares very much. Kasse admired them too, and so I bought him one as a thank-you gift in my favourite colour - lime green (or vert-citron). He was very touched, and he put it in his non-descript Berlitz-issue grey dress shirt. Kasse and I look very different. He is 6 feet tall and black. I am definitely not 6 feet tall, and about as far away from black as you can get, but that day we learned a little bit about each-other, and we both wore lime green pocket squares.

Which is to say that we found one more thing in common.

"Nous sommes, au profond, tous les frères " .

Just your typical Saturday night.....

I seem to be going to a lot of very interesting parties lately, which is how it should be, this being summer in Vancouver. I just came back from a loft in the remotest part of gastown where a gay couple from Oregon was celebrating their one year anniversary in Canada. Apparently, they lived in the one county in Oregon that allowed Gay marriage, so they got married. A few months later, the supreme court of the state overturned the law, and they were sent a letter in the mail informing them they were now divorced. Understandably, they came to Canada. I wonder what is going to happen if gay marriage becomes illegal here....Well, there is always South Africa.

I have no idea what these men do for a living, but they make a ton of money....and they spend it like children, which is to say on anything that strikes their fancy. There were 4 wine fridges, and a special humidified cabinet filled with whole prosciutto.... there was a room completely devoted to their single malt scotch collection. They celebrated their anniversary in Canada by opening bottles of Cristal with fencing swords and then we read Edna St Vincent Millay in between tokes of a Moroccan Hash Pipe. And just when you thought it could not get any more surreal, I noticed a well thumbed copy of Das Kapital beside the humidor. It is true when they say that the only difference between a crazy person and someone who is merely eccentric is a great deal of money.

I drank single malt langavulin and smoked vanilla flavoured cigarettes and my friend Ellie and I performed an impromptu concert of Puccini arias...Ellie has met a 45 year old man who looks like he is 30 because he is content with his life, and is not a tortured soul (or so Ellie says). And so, most of Ellie's technical issues when it comes to singing have sorted themselves out, even though she lives in Terrace and doesn't study with a teacher right now. This is what happens when you are happy. And that is the crazy thing about having an instrument which is inside you.

I was worried about the smoke and drinking affecting my voice, but then I remembered that Caruso smoked 4 packs of cigarettes a day, and then I relaxed and we had a great time. A man told me that I have a voice like port, which was a nice complement because I like port very much. Then this woman named Jen sang Van Halen songs, which was different, but still operatically intense and very good. Jen sings for fun...she is actually a software writer for a Norwegian internet company and just came back from skydiving in Utah. I like Jen because she smokes and drinks and laughs a lot, and clearly likes it. Now that you can't smoke anywhere and people are drinking low calorie beer or worse, we need more people like her. She also has the best books in her bathroom... Like a guide to walking tours in Vancouver from 1974 and a pocket size historical atlas of Europe. She also has a recording of Fidelio, and I think that has added a Beethoven-like profundity to her music making.

Anyway, I don't really know what I am talking about because it is 4 in the morning and I have many substances floating within me... but I am happy that I got to sing with my friend Ellie, just like last week I got to sing with my friend Rebecca. Ellie, Rebecca and I are sensitive people with big voices which is very special but sometimes hard. I told Ellie that some day we will all sing in a production of Die Walkure together. Rebecca will be Brunnhilde, Ellie will be Sieglinde and I will be Siegmund. We will sing lustily and we will laugh and be very aware of who we are and at the same time unaware of ourselves to the extent that we can let the music speak. And that is what you must do to sing.

Last week, my friend Rebecca got married, and I was supposed to write about that today.
However, I almost never write about what I think I am going to write about. And that is what you must do to write, I guess. Well, the wedding was supremely beautiful. There was Albanian honey cake and homemade quilts and the rain stopped when they said their vows.

As I was leaving to come back to Vancouver, Rebecca told me that the world was a safe and accepting place.

And despite all the contradictions, and taking into account the fact that one day a couple can get a letter in the mail saying that they are no longer married due to a clerical error, I believe it.