Language: it separates us from the chimps

I've been dodging the language question up until now. How is my French language adjustment coming along? Hmmmm... Short answer: ok. Long answer: Well, it's like I pass through each day in a little bubble where all intelligent meaning is filtered out. Little things like driving, or shopping for groceries take longer as I try to interpret labels, which is what any sane person would expect. However, the real fun starts at the till. For example, when my backpack set off the alarm at the big grocery store yesterday, with only twenty people in line behind me, I was pretty sure I was in for a difficult experience. When the 16 year-old cashier asked me what I thought was "could you take off all of your clothes?" and later turned out to be "could you take your backpack through the security sensor one more time?", I seriously considered dropping everything, running for the door, driving to the beach, and drowning in a vane attempt to swim to England. Then today, after I thought I had all of the obvious cashier questions sorted out, I get another "blah blah blah blah?" after handing over a crisp 20 euro bill. Is it a counterfeit? Do they not accept 20 euro bills on Tuesdays? Don't laugh, in France this could be a union protest thing. Needless to say, I'm baffled, as is the cashier after I lock up after being asked if I have 35 cents to make the change more simple. I don't expect to be invited into any political or philisophical discussions with my French neighbors any time soon.
Yesterday I took a walk along the beach when the weather conditions would be politely described as blustery.  Not surprisingly, the place was quite peaceful: not a screaming baby in sight. And, as the pictures attest: no one in sight.

This walkway is usually packed and even on bad days there are usually at least a few crazy, but determined vacationers intent on making the most of their beach holiday. After walking down the pathway for a while, I finally came upon one guy who understood how to take advantage of the serenity, such as it was.

I imagined his large extended family jammed into the smallest rv you've ever seen arguing over when grandpa was coming back so they could all go to the local McDonalds. Don't ask me why, but McDonalds here is extremely popular. Perhaps the local populace craves a minimum level of toxicity after being exposed to too much unprocessed food.

Tomorrow I get a royal visit of my own as the reigning princess of the household arrives. Perri unwittingly holds the key to the success of the whole venture in her delicate little hands. Who knew we would bet the farm, as it were, on the ability of a 14 year-old to adapt?