J'essaie
Now, I start most conversations with: "Je ne parle pas beaucoup le français mais j'essaie quand même." It translates to "I do not speak a lot of French, but I'm trying anyway." Additionally, it's French-only mode for me when we step out of the apartment. I realized that if I keep speaking to Gabe in English, I'll never make any progress.
Noisette: Our daily routine includes walking Charlie to school and then having an espresso with a dash of milk. Over in Spain, it goes by the name "cortado." Meanwhile, at Lobita in the Halles, it's known as the "piccolo." Gabe usually orders. However, when we go to a restaurant or cafe, I find the courage to place my order. With confidence, I use the French terminology, "Un Café Noisette, s'il vous plaît." The server often blinks at me, their expression a curious blend of surprise and confusion. But I stand my ground, repeating "Noisette". In the end, I do receive my espresso, and though my order might cause a few coffee beans to roll, it brews up a good chuckle.
Un verre de vin: Each time we go out for dinner it turns into a tongue-twisting challenge. Before placing my order, I rehearse the phrases in my head, preparing for that moment. However, when the waiter turns their attention to me and asks, "Et pour vous Madame?" my confidence often takes a nosedive. It's as if the words I've practiced suddenly play hide-and-seek in my mind. I keep requesting "un verre de vin" which mutates into something utterly unrecognizable. I've learned that merely uttering "un verre de vin" without specifying the color leaves room for more questions. I need to be crystal clear about whether I want "un verre de vin rouge" or "un verre de vin blanc". And the subtleties don't stop there; specifying "sec" for white wine, among other nuances, is a must. The boys enjoy poking fun at me, and even though it's all in good spirits, I must confess, it can be a tad tough on my ego!
Batteries: I needed AA batteries for Luke's alarm clock. However, a crucial piece of information eluded me: the French word for "batteries." There I stood, right in front of the cashier, wearing a bewildered expression. In a moment of desperation, I resorted to uttering "ah ah" while pointing at the batteries hanging behind the cashier. To my relief, the cashier retrieved the batteries and said something in French (I have no idea what she said or asked). My response, though, was a confident "Oui." I then paid for my purchase with my carte de crédit digitale and anxiously waited for the inevitable question, "Avez-vous besoin d'un ticket?" I responded with a composed "Non," despite my heart racing and a bead of sweat forming on my brow. It was an embarrassing yet unforgettable moment. (In case you were curious: Les piles = batteries)
Bonjour: I walked down to the Plage du Port Vieux for Charlie's (school) ocean safety class. Sporting my best "I'm a friendly mom" smile, I confidently greeted the other moms with a warm "Bonjour." They returned my salutation with polite nods and then promptly scattered like sand grains in the wind. Perhaps they mistook me for a passerby, or maybe they were convinced that chatting with an American, here for just a year, would be as fleeting as a summer breeze. The irony wasn't lost on me—I'm always the one insisting that Luke and Charlie be welcoming to new classmates or teammates. I firmly believe that being welcoming should transcend timelines. So, I persevered and struck up a conversation with the one mom who hadn't walked away. With genuine curiosity, I said my son was Charlie and asked her about her child. We had a brief encounter, and then she left me in a conversational no-man's-land. Ouch, indeed! It seems breaking the ice isn’t that easy.
Money and Time: Paying for purchases continues to pose a challenge for me due to my lack of automaticity with numbers in French. It's akin to the struggles my students face when they're trying to master their multiplication facts. My own struggle with quickly grasping French numbers adds an additional layer of complexity to everyday tasks, especially when it's time to make cash payments. My attempts at clarification typically involve the polite yet desperate plea of "Répétez s'il vous plaît." The expressions from cashiers suggest that my pronunciation is still terrible. I've now honed the fine art of nodding agreeably while clutching my wallet, praying that the amount I hand over is, in fact, the right one. What really gets me are numbers above 60. After 60, they jump into the realm of 20s. For instance, 80 becomes "4 20s" or "quatre-vingt," and 70 is "60 plus 10" or "soixante-dix." I try to decode it in my head. Try. And just to add another layer of complexity, there's the 24-hour clock. "Seize heures" somehow translates to seven hours in my mind, but it's actually sixteen or, on the 12-hour clock, four o'clock. It's clear that I need to dedicate some quality time to practicing monetary transactions and time-telling.
Around the table: We had Luke's friend and his mom over for dinner. I was happy to meet Emile's mom since I expected she'd be around my age. Turns out, my assumption was spot on. Emile's mom is a real gem - funny, outdoorsy, well-traveled, and kind. As soon as she arrived, following the customary two-cheek greeting, her very first question was whether we should speak in English or French. With determination, I boldly declared, "French!" Emile's mom said if she was speaking too fast to let her know, and she would repeat. Now, did I understand anything? Well, the answer is a resounding "nope." I wasn’t able to contribute to the conversation, but boy, did I give it my all! I did manage to grasp a snippet of the conversation – well, a fraction of it, to be precise. Fortunately, I had Gabe to provide me with a detailed breakdown of what she was saying. Caroline shared something that offered me some clarity regarding the dynamics with the moms at the beach. She mentioned that when she first arrived here, it took a whopping two and a half years for a family to extend an invitation to come over for dinner. It seems that the concept of embracing newcomers might not be high on the priority list around here. Gabe made excellent tacos, we took a pause to catch the sunset, and we returned to enjoy Luke's first flan (which turned out perfect). My brain felt like it had done a marathon workout, but the company made it well worth it.
I am reminded every day that patience and a healthy dose of humor are the best tools to bridge the language gap. Yet, deep down, I know that the real key is to simply start talking, regardless of the inevitable mistakes. After all, language is a living, evolving thing, and it's okay to fumble a bit. So, here's to letting the words flow, errors and all!
Au revoir for now.
Surfmamas is canceled for tomorrow due to adverse conditions: strong winds, big waves, and dirty water following this storm. As for Cidore, it might have smaller waves, but its proximity to the river isn't ideal either. Word has it that some spots might see waves as high as 5 meters tomorrow. We will definitely cruise around to catch a glimpse of the surf.
