the king's speech

I lost my voice. This is the second time this has happened to me since I've been here. And no, I haven't taken up smoking like a frenchman, although I do sound it. Now, losing my voice at the end of a cold is pretty routine for me, nothing to worry about. But I'm writing about these specific cases because in this condition I find it even more difficult to force the nasal vowels through my nose or hack up enough spit to properly pronounce an 'R'. So French people understand me even less, and I'm forced to listen even more. Throughout my stay, I've learned a lot from listening (hopefully). I listen when in groups of French people, like at Bible Study. You see, I'm what they call an 'E' for 'extrovert' in the Myers Briggs Personality Indicator. And probably a bit of a know-it-all. So, when following conversations and discussions everything inside of me wants terribly to share each thought and anecdote that comes to mind with the group. My heart picks up the pace a little and I get all squirmy in my seat.  However, speaking out is rarely a possibility with my delayed expression time and feeble voice to boot. So I listen. Still not my favorite thing to do but I'm learning to appreciate it.
Last time my voice left it got so bad that one Saturday evening I really couldn't make most sounds necessary for either French or English. So, not trusting myself to allow my voice to rest in a social setting, I want to the movies alone. I saw The King's Speech in English with French subtitles. And wow, did I empathize with King George IV (ie Colin Firth) in his inability to speak freely. Thankfully, my voice came back and is on it's way back this time.  And maybe one of these days my language level will no longer be an impediment, either.

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 Et voila! Laura Ann Miller paid a visit to my overseas reality. What a joy. Our friendship dates back to third grade and has deep roots in the 4300 and 4400 blocks of northeast Shorewood, Wi.  I collected her from the Gare du Nord last Friday morning and she sojourned for a full ten days, just leaving yesterday.  Laura's been to Paris twice before, so she could skip some of the historical attractions and spend more time on Paris 2011: spring poetry, meeting friends, theater and hours of conversing the way you only can when nobody around you can understand your slang/fake brooklyn accents. She also lived in the South of France last year for six months and thus could get around by herself when I was busy, as long as she had the Paris practique (map) with her.  We did so much I'm convinced she must have actually been here for a month.

In front of Ernest Hemingway's main stakeout during the 1920's La Closerie des Lilas  café in Montparnasse.

A Sunday antique fair after church

Kids on a field trip playing tag in front of Castle Chantilly, where Laura and I went for the day.  We visited Chantilly together on our high school French exchange and it were determined to revisit the wonderful town/birthplace of whipped cream. 

Castle library.

Recitation of T. S. Eliot on the castle grounds

Metro. 

Back in Paris, we found the bubbler that produces sparkling water. Seriously! It's amazing. In the Jardin Reuilly. 

A boy chasing bubbles on a bridge (pont des artes) over the Seine while his Dad and brother look on. 

Tuileries. Proof! I also have one in front of the Eiffel Tour, but that's cliché. 

It doesn't get much better than génial.