Things French Say--The Olympics

We are big Olympics fans Chez Larson and this year it's more fun because a) they're in our (relative) time zone and b) the big kids are loving every minute right along with us. We've been sitting on the terrace every night with the doors to the living room thrown open and the television moved to the side so we can watch from the coolness of the outdoors as the swimmers and now the runners inspire and thrill us with their incredible strength, drive and speed.
 
I get all teary-eyed at any back story and cheer more and more for that Brit or Aussie and especially fellow American and when we win gold and I hear the refrain of 'the twilight's last gleaming' I cry again. This doesn't come as any surprise to you, I'm sure. Not sobs, mind you. Just a little damp-eyed tug and distortion of the facial features and the kids say, 'Oh, Mommy. You're crying again!'

{American Women's Swim Team: source}

What is is about the Olympics that makes us feel so passionate and proud? It's not just the Americans that get me. I cheer and cry for all of them. When the French stand up there all stoic, mouthing bits of Le Marseillaise with its triumphant ending, I get all sniffly too. I've always loved their national anthem.

{Gold Medalist Camille Muffat: google}

Ma Fille, who is a real fish every summer, has been switched on by the Olympic swimmers and has been swimming laps non-stop since. She keeps asking what it takes to be in the Olympics and if we really think she  can do it. We say, like Dorie, just keep swimming.

And swim she does. Fifty laps of our little pool every day. And more. But the problem is that our pool is quite small and one lap is probably less than a quarter of 50 meters. She's done the math and has realized that if she's going to really get good she needs a bigger pool. Luckily, there's a public outdoor pool with lanes in nearby Castelnau-Le-Lez that we've started going to for her to swim her laps.

I should give you some Olympic style back story here and so I will. I looked online to check the  hours and rules of the pool the other day. The usual European rules of public pools applied: no swimming trunks for boys and men, only speedos, and swimming cap obligatoire. There was a section for comments about the pool and it was lengthy; each comment reviling the woman at the front desk, who was anything from unhelpful to not the right person to be in front of people. Now this is something, thought I. The French are complaining about the Mme this much? How awful must she be?!

We rode our bikes over to the pool, the reviews of the lady on my mind. Who knew what she would think of me and my butchering of her language? It's simple though. I only had to ask one or two questions, smile and be on my way.

When we got there we 'bonjour'ed like you're supposed to, smiles all around. I asked for the proper pass, she smiled and answered, she asked if I'd been there before, I said no, so she kindly explained the rules (there are always rules) and took my money. As we were in the middle of this transaction, a man I'll call the Walrus came out, big, round belly hanging over his tiny, triangle of swimsuit, asking for help because his goggles fell down the drain or something. He had an enormous white moustache that hung so far over his mouth I thought he might lift it with his fingers to speak. I couldn't imagine how he could eat. It would take some serious wax or a clip of some kind to hold it out of the way.

As he shuffled away, helpful teenage staffer following, Surly Madame looked at me and said something about him needing to wear a swim cap over his mouth while he swims. I looked shocked, wondering if I'd misunderstood, and she shrugged, half-laughed and said, "Je rigole. C'est humour francaise!'
See. She's lovely.

We went back yesterday for more laps and to test our luck with the Surly Madame. This time she asked if we were British. I answered this usual question with my usual answer, 'Non, nous sommes americains.'
Here came a heap of Surly, right outta left field and all about the Olympics, thinly veiled and smoothly enacted in an effortless stream of French.

{French relay team: LA Times}

'Oh, you are doing very well in the Olympics, all of the medals, all the wonderful swimmers. You have 60 medals and we only have 25!'. ,
'Yes', I said, adept at the game myself these days, 'but the French team did so well in the men's relay, it was fantastic! They were incredible!'
Lob to me. 'But the Americans are everywhere! So strong at everything!'
'Yes, but we are a big country, with a lot of people. It is different'.
The final blow, the essence of it all, the crux of the matter and the thing that a real French person said to me, 'The Americans are too strong. There are too many! You are everywhere! It Is Not Fair!!! Ce N'est Pas Juste!!!'  

There's just nothing to say to that is there? I smiled, as I do, and nodded and gracefully bowed out, beaten at the game.  One point, France.
Ma Fille and I went into the changing room, quietly giggling about how unfair it is that our country is bigger.