The Catch

One of the only good things I've discovered about not speaking the local language is that I can't understand what people are saying when they yell at me.

I had a friend over for lunch this afternoon and it had been raining so she'd left her paraplouie (umbrella) in the hall. Halfway through our cheese and baguette, she says, "I think someone's knocking on your door."

I answer the door and it's my gardienne (landlady). First of all, let me just say that this lady is totally nuts. Today was actually my first real encounter with her but I could tell she was nuts just from passing her in the hall. I think what tipped me off was the guy who follows her everywhere playing the Wicked Witch of the West theme music on a boombox.

"Blah blah blah in French! Regardez de l'eau! Regardez de l'eau! Blah blah paraplouie blah blah!!"

'Regardez de l'eau', for those of you playing along at home, means 'Look at the water' and the water to which she is referring is the tiny puddle that has formed under my friend's tiny umbrella all the way up here on the sixth floor.

Totally bonkers.

So I say 'Merci' because I can't think of anything else to say and I take the umbrella and I close the door. Ten minutes later, we're enjoying our gnocchi with aubergine-tomate sauce when there's another knock at the door. It's la gardienne again and this time she's with her 900-year-old husband who is, like, shaking his cane at me and she's stamping her foot and now they're both yelling at me in french about l'eau and shaking a rag at me and the whole thing is so intense.

So I just smile and wave and say "Merci! Au revoir!" and close the door.

They're probably going to kill me in my sleep.