Faire des courses is one of my favorite terms in French. It essentially means to go shopping, but to be more specific, when you say that you are going to "faire des courses" you mean that you are going to run errands. You'll probably go to the super market, the butcher, the patisserie and boulangerie, maybe Nicolas for some nice wine for dinner, perhaps the fromagerie and post office as well. You get the point.
You can also say faire des courses when referring to running track or running a race as well.
This is why faire des courses is one of my favorite French terms. The fact that you use the same term for both actions is terribly ironic but the most obvious thing in the world at the same time.
Paris, (and I would almost go as far as to say all of France, but not quite as much as Paris), is known for its specialization of products. The reason you have to go to about 6-12 different stores in order to successfully "faire des courses" is because of specialization.
Where I live on rue de Rivoli, if I stand on either of my balconies and look out at either rue Sainte Antoinne or towards the heart of the Marais, I see: two super markets, several boulangeries, a mielerie (yep, that's a honey store, no lie), a chocolaterie, a fromagerie, two Nicolas, several Jewish/kosher delicatessens, several pharmacies, two butchers (one kosher, one not), a vaisellerie (for dishes), several patisseries, as well as restos and the like.
So the irony in the faire des courses terminology is that if you indeed run errands on, say, a Saturday afternoon, it is exactly like running track or running a race, because you have to run around until you're nearly dying of exhaustion. And if you're me, you have to lug everything you bought up five flights of stairs, and you're about ready to keel over by the time you get to your apartment.
But the thing is, if I had the choice, I wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly. When I was in London a couple of months ago and Delanie and I were grocery shopping for the week, being in a huge supermarket nearly turned my stomach. I walked up and down the isles literally in awe of everything that this supermarket had. The worst was when I reached the bread isle. I stood there dumbfounded by the idea of having an entire isle dedicated to bread. There was easily 25 different types of sliced bread there. I thought to myself, why do people need 25 different bread options? One brand that sells white (or pain Americain as they call it in France), whole wheat, rye, and perhaps a sourdough or multi-grain is perfectly sufficient. If you want something else, I suggest finding a fresh bakery where you can get better bread. I couldn't get over the culture shock, and that was just the difference between England and France.
One time I needed to sow a couple buttons on my jacket. It was a Sunday afternoon, and naturally nothing was open except the epiceries and a couple various pharmacies. After striking out pathetically at all the epiceries, I tried a couple pharmacies. The first couple I went into I just looked around and left when I couldn't find a needle and thread. At the last one, I decided it would be beneficial to ask the pharmacienne for help. Naturally I couldn't remember how to say "to sow" or "needle" in French, so I had to go with the word for thread and then act out as best I could what I needed. After a few minutes of the woman at me like I had two heads (no worries, I've definitely gotten used to this look by now. I'm completely unfazed by it, actually), she finally understood what I wanted. Relieved, I said, "Fantastique! L'avez-vous?" After looking at me again like I had two heads, she erupted with laughter and said, "non, non, non, madame! C'est une pharmacie! Nous ne vendons pas cela ici! Seulement des pharmaceutiques, madame." As if selling thread and needle was the craziest thing in the world to sell in a pharmacy!
I immediately flashed back to all the times in Boston when I was either too lazy to walk to Shaws or too poor to pay for over-priced groceries at Wolly's and instead opted to do my grocery shopping at CVS. You can buy botox, reading glasses, and perfume at Parisian pharmacies, but a needle in thread is the most absurd thing ever suggested.
I didn't get it at the time, but I get it now. It's all about specialization. A pharmacie just isn't the place to get a thread and needle. Now that I've lived here for several months, I wouldn't even think twice about why it would be convenient to sell that in pharmacies. If I needed some black thread on a Sunday and supermarkets weren't open, I wouldn't even hesitate to walk the 15 minutes into the Chinese garment district in the 3rd to buy some thread. It's just how it is.
For that reason, I'm kind of terrified to go back to the States. If I had been living in Paris for all of 5 weeks and got overwhelmed in a London supermarket, I don't know how I'll be able to handle going back to American supermarkets after living here for 5 months.
I can imagine throwing a fit because I won't be able to find warm baguettes or croissant d'abricots whenever I want. Or fresh tuna and crudites on a baguette when I want something light and refreshing for lunch.
This is what worries me most about going back home next month.
