À la carte
Where I live in Paris there is a plethora of tourists. Actually perhaps that could be said for most areas in Paris, but on my local commercial strip I seem to hear more foreign languages than French. The tourists are steadily dipping in and out of cafes, asking for directions, pulling out the Metro map and looking confused, significant others wearing silly matching raincoats (and caps embroidered with their country of origin) walking hand in hand and looking very much in love. A few Parisians aren't keen on them, but I love the tourists. I have been one myself after all. Plus I've been here for almost a year now and I still need to pull out my Metro map and look confused. But I have learnt to have a discreet one tucked away in my Paris Moleskine. I love the tourists so much that I have been known to walk up to them and ask 'Bonjour! Do you need help?'. The Mairie should pay me for assisting lost souls on their pilgrimage towards Galeries Lafayette.
But my favourite thing about Paris tourism is without a doubt the English translations on menus. Yes, I am one of those silly creatures who derive joy from grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. I am by no means whatsoever a grammar snob who gets annoyed by mistakes (because I certainly make them in French all the time), I just find misspelled words and literal translations charming and delightful. Especially when they sound as appetising as "raped cheese"1. Goodness, does it need counseling? Or maybe you'd prefer "Hamburger with egg of horse"?2
Also the whole thing about Parisian waiters and waitresses being rude is a myth. If you happen to stumble across a rude one he's just as likely to be rude to the locals as he is to the tourists. Most of them are lovely and extremely keen to show off their English abilities. One sort of French I have reached total fluency in is cafe and restaurant French, but if the staff overhear me speaking English with my dining companion, they jump at a chance to tell us the Plat du jour in my mother tongue. Often in the culinary realm though, it just doesn't translate very well.
Waiter: So ze special of ze day is grilled stingray with concussed tomato, it is very good.
Antonia: Sounds delicious. We'll take two.
Friend of Antonia: Am I going to die?
Waiter: And something to drink?
Antonia: Two glasses of red wine and some water.
Waiter: Would you prefer water suffering from gas or not suffering from gas?
Antonia: Oh, definitely with the gas. Merci.
Friend of Antonia: Why are you feeding me poisonous maritime creatures and fart water?
In French raie is not actually the lethal stingray, it is skate, which is very tasty and isn't going to kill you. If only poor Steve Irwin had met a raie instead, may he rest in peace. And those tomatoes hadn't just suffered severe head trauma and memory loss, they are simply crushed (concassé). Well perhaps they do have a sort of concussion but it doesn't require medical care. Perrier is l'eau gaseuze and last time I checked it wasn't farting but it is French so chances are it may be suffering.
My favourite badly translated menu item has to be this:
Apparently this is how steak tartare translates into English at a cafe nearby, but I doubt very much many Anglophones order their beef codly chopped has to the order of the machine cooled. Maybe just the brave ones.
1. fromage râpé is grated cheese
2. Hamburger avec Oeufs a Cheval is really a meat patty with a fried egg on top of it, riding horseback if you will. That's right, French horses don't lay eggs either.
Comments
Mostly Asian, but you should get a kick out of it. Explore!
Of course, we all probably know some examples of Japanese explaining to English speakers that the kanji on their clothing says something bizarre.