Y semble que la dernière fois la compteuse de monde a pris le mauvais chemin par accident et elle a arrivée drète devant ma cabane à mon. Alle était tout surprise ! A m’a dit, “Qu’est-ce que vous faites là ?” J’ai dit, “Madame, j’sus après piocher dans mon jardin.” Alle a sorti sa liste de questions. A dit, “Est-ce que vous êtes amériain ?” “Ben non,” j’y ai dit, “Les Amaricains, ça reste au nord des Avoyelles, pis dans les aut’ états, pas par icitte. Alle était tout contente. A dit, “Que c’est magnifique ! J’ai découvert une minorité.” A dit, “Vous allez avoir droit à toutes sortes de privilèges. Je vais vous lire la liste des minorités reconnues par les États-Unis. Vous n’avez qu’à choisir.

Est-ce que vous êtes Noir?” J’ai dit “Non,” “Chinois?” “Non,” “Mexicain?” “Non,” “Puerto Ricain?” “Non,” “Amérindien?” “Non, j’ai jamais attendu parler de cette qualité de monde-là.” Been, a dit, “c’est la fin de la liste. Alors nous n¹êtes pas une minorité reconnue!” J’ai dit, “Madame, ti veux dire par ça que tous les Cadjins se ressemblont?” A dit, “Non, je veux dire que vous n’êtes pas une minorité. Que diable êtes-vous alors ?” J’ai dit, “Madame, à Bayou St-Pierre, tout le monde est Cadjin, Acadien.” A dit, “Non, pas possible. Ce n’est pas sur la liste. Le gouvernement fédédral à Washington n’a jamais entendu parler de vous.”

Pensez donc ! On est icitte en Louisiane depuis au-dessus de deux siècles et y z’ont jamais entendu parler de nous-aut. Le gouvernement envouaye le C.I.A. tout partout dans le monde pour sa’oir quoi-ce qui se passe, mais y z’ont jamais fouillé assez à Bayou St-Pierre pour nous découvert.

Alle a recommencé avec ses questions. A dit, “Es-ce que vous parlez une langue étrangère?” J’ai dit, “Ouais, l’Amaricain.” “Est-ce que vous êtes en Amérique depuis longtemps?” “Ouais, on est en Louisiane depuis au-dessus de deux sièc, mais on est en Amarique depuis plus de 396 ans. On était en Amarique avant les Amaricains.” A dit, “Quoi, vous étiez en Amérique avant les Américains?” “Ouais,” j’ai dit, “en Acadie.”

Alors, a dit “il n’y a plus de question. Je sais maintenant exactement ce que vous êtes. Vous êtes des sauvages !” J’ai dit, “Ouais, madame, asteur je connais exactement ça que t’es, toi itou. T’es eine couillonne !”
par David Émile Marcantel

Young fella, you still wet behind the ears, eh? Don’t you know that the Amaricans, they like crocodiles more than Cajuns. A crocodile is worth something in Washington. But a Cajun? Never heard about us. They’ll say, “Cajun? Whaddaheck is dat?”

Seems like the last time the “people counter” took awrong turn by accident and ended up right in front of me shack. Imagine her surprise! She told me, “What are you doing here?” I said, “Ma’am, I’m working on my garden. “She took out a list of questions. She said, “Are you amarican?” “Nope,” I said, “Amaricains keep north of the Avoyelles, and also in other States, but not here. She was so pleased with my answer. She said, “Wonderful! I discovered a minority.” She said, “You will be entitled to lots of privileges. I will read now to you the list of minorities recognized by the United States. Just pick one.

“Are you black?” I said “No” “Chinese?” “No” “Mexican?” “No” “Puerto Rican?” “No” “Amerindian?” “Nope, never heard of such a people.” Well, she said, “this is it. You’re not from a recognized minority.” I said, “Ma’am, you mean all Cajuns look alike, if you can’t recognize me?” She said, “No, what I meant is that you are not a minority. What are you, then?” I said, “Ma’am, in Bayou St-Pierre, everyone is Cajun, Acadien.” She said, “No, impossible. This is not on my list. The federal government in Washington never heard about you.”

Get this! We’ve been here for more than two centuries and they never heard about us! The government sends the C.I.A. all around the world to figure out what’s going on, but they never came as far as Bayou St-Pierre and discover us.

She took another shot at figuring me out. She said, “Do you speak a foreign language?” I said, “Yep, Amarican.” “Have you been in the United States for long?” “Yup, we’ve been in Louisiana for longer than two centuries, but we’ve been in America for more than 396 years. We were in America before the Americans.” She said, “What? You were in America before the Americans?” “Yep,” I said, “in Acadie.”

She said, “Got it. I know exactly what you are. You are savages!”

I said, “Well, ma’am, me too I know what you are, alright. You’re a jerk!”

Rien à cirer qu’ils soient en vacances les commerciaux ! Va falloir qu’ils s’occupent de la balance agée pendant leurs congés ! Sinon j’annule tous leurs congés !

À un collègue commercial :

C’est pas parce que vous êtes en congés que vous allez vous arrêter de bosser ! Ça va pas vous tuer de passer quelques coups de fil et de prendre des rendez-vous !

Email envoyé pendant la semaine où j’étais en congés après Vinexpo — semaine passée à la clinique pour faire des examens médicaux :

Veuillez absolument rappeler ce matin Mr. Babar ! Il a essayé de vous joindre à plusieurs reprises ces deux derniers jours.

Je pars en congés le 7 août au soir. Je laisse mon ordinateur à HK, et je vais laisser mon téléphone éteint. J’espère, ô je souhaite qu’il m’envoie un de ses emails fumants comme il aime les pondre sous le coup de la colère. Les prudhommes adoreront.

I left Seoul Kimp’o airport (yeah, that story’s *that* old) on an Asiana flight (code-share with NWA) bound to Hawai’i. I was attending a conference on Asian Studies, and was staying at my friend and fellow crazy linguist Sasha’s place. As I said, first trip to the US. I only knew I didn’t need a visa. I didn’t even know the expression “Visa Waiver”. My English back then was good, I suppose, but still very academic, and British-influenced. Tom Clancy and consorts fixed that since, but, hey, I’m French, I started out with a huge handicap, aye?

Aboard the flight, the attendants were handing out long green immigration cards. Assuming I was a US citizen, they didn’t give me one. So I asked for one - I am not a US citizen. “Oh, okay!”. Handed me one of those green forms - the only kind they had. Important detail. I filled out the form, skipping the “Visa #” part - I’m French I don’t need/have a visa. kkthxbai.

Standing in line, I realize I’m in for a long wait. A long line of passengers ahead of me, all Korean, and not too many who speak English. There’s *one* Korean-American Immigration officer, who apparently speaks Korean, so that line is quick enough, the rest of the counters are slow. Next in line, I see that I will either be handled by a white lady, or a very angry looking Mexican. Well, I suppose he’s a US citizen, but he still looks like Zapata. And sure enough, with my luck, I get Zapata. Handlebar moustache, “Made in Tijuana” accent and bad temper all free of charge.

He looks at my form, my passport, my form, grumbles, lets me stew.

• “Where is your visa?”
• /me squints “I’m French, I don’t need a visa.”
• “Don’t tell me what you need or don’t. You filled out a green form. If you want in on a visa waiver, you have to fill in the white form.”
• “Wasn’t told. They had green forms on the plane. They gave me one. I filled it out.”
• “Don’t give me that crap. All airlines have both forms.”
• “Apparently Korean airlines don’t. Look around.”
• “As I said don’t give me that crap. Now,” He throws back my passport, and a white form. “Get aside, fill this form, and wait.”

I think he wanted me to wait as long as he could possibly make it last, make me “pay” for my insolence or whatnot. Unfortunately, Pedro’s plans were foiled by one of his colleagues. I still laugh at the scene when I think about it.

Comes a HUGE black man, a colleague of his, probably senior to Zapata, since thereafter I didn’t hear a single word from His-Excellency-From-Tijuana. The giant, and I really mean Michael Jordan huge, I had to lift my head all the way back to look at him, says “Whassamatta?” Pedro grumbles something. “Where’s he from?” Grabs my passport. “Hey you’re French!” 1000 watt smile. Stop that officer, I don’t have my sunglasses.

“I just came back from the Loire Valley. Rented a boat, cruised the river for two weeks. Best holidays in my life!” I try to process what he’s saying. Like, you are telling me about your vacations? And I care because…? BECAUSE THE DUDE IS IN LOVE WITH YOUR COUNTRY AND GONNA LET YOU IN, DUMBASS. /me slaps self, mentally. We chat a bit, best pals. I never boated on the Loire river, but I sure am a fan now. NBA-dude deploys a crane, er, extends his arm, and grabs passport, form and stamp. Bang! Bang! “Welcome to the USA son!”. Glares at Pedro, then throws the stamp back on his counter. He escorts me to the luggage area, chatting with me while I wait for and pick up my bag, then again escorts me to the customs area. He nods to an officer, shakes my hand (Can I have my hand back? Intact? Now?) and sends me on my way. “Have a nice trip, son!”

That was surreal.

Tagging Miss Xu, akka I only meow and purr, no scratch, JFA, aka L’autre Tortue, Kiran Denniz, aka Pukka Sahib, Dicey, aka I am either German or Pinay, and I have a Iron Fan™, iMorpheus, my Evil Twin™, kmlawson, aka I won’t stay in a single country longer than 6 months, Joey Lo, aka I will make up my mind on the 11th (no month mentioned)

But the mixture of sleep deprivation, euphoria and stress probably led me to bite the bullet. I have spent the whole week in China, so I felt, what da heck… I am glad I did, as the fellows I chatted with were very pleased. The problem now is that they invited me to Gwongjau, and they’ll expect me to repeat the feast…

Une semaine après sa sortie, la version pré-Alpha du naviagteur mobile de Mozilla est confrontée à un bug qui empêche l’affichage des pages.

CNET has a spelling bug, too, that should prevent them to release articles, too, apparently…

1. Announcements for the Chinese passengers were in Mandarin. No Cantonese. Big fat help.
2. The Chinese interpreter did not speak a single word of Cantonese — very useful on a plane full of Hongkongers.
3. The video to “help our arrival at Hong Kong International Airport” showed scenes from an anonymous, one-size-fits-all, airport (based on CDG). Big Fat Help.
4. The “Immigration & Customs” video was for Mainland China. The forms to fill out shown on the video were for Mainland China. Big Fat Help™…
5. The interpreter ended all her announcements (or rather her rendition in Chinese of other people’s) with “感谢(您的合作)”. 感谢 ganxie. Not 谢谢 xiexie.

Something that wasn’t odd on this flight — like all other Air France flights I’ve been on — is the rudeness of the staff and the dismal service. Lowering your expectations after flying with “normal” airlines like Cathay or Dragon Air is tough…