Many of the French being world travelers themselves (what else to do with all that vacation time every year?), they realize — I'm quite sure — that learning the local language of every place they want to visit is not really an option.

Not many French natives speak the languages of Peru, Syria, or China, for example, but it doesn't stop them from visiting those places. They understand language barriers. They do. It's not so much that English-speakers speak English in France, but the way they go about speaking it.

For example, instead of approaching a French person with the simple phrase Parlez-vous un peu d'Anglais? or even Do you speak English?, many tourists seem to begin with the assumption that the French in general both speak and understand English (rapidly-spoken English, I might add), and they proceed from there.

Failing to make themselves understood, they'll continue prodding their victim, again in English, but this time just a tad more loudly. I've seen it happen. I can't help but think that just because they don't understand English doesn't mean they are deaf, for crying out loud.

 

My extremely limited vocabulary in those first days/months/years meant that I ate pretty much the same thing in every restaurant. It meant that if I were lost, too bad. And it meant that for big problems, I had to go get Mr. FdC. The old adage 'If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all' rang true for this English-speaker; if you can't say it in French, don't say anything at all. That was me.

Now, after some years of living in France, I'm proud to say that my French has improved – and I never did end up approaching a French shopkeeper or waiter using English (this didn't prevent 99 percent of them from responding to me in English, I might add, but that's another story…)

But as much as I wanted to be able to speak to French people in France in French, I have to say that…well…learning French was the worst thing I ever did for my English. I mean it. My English is now what can only be considered whack. It's pitiful. For someone who could always claim a fairly high level of verbal ability, it is downright embarrassing.

I rarely make sense when I talk these days. I stumble over words. Sometimes, when I've forgotten a word in my native language, I pull a Jean-Claude Van Damme (of je suis aware fame) and say something incomprehensible like, 'I swear, I always ramasse when I walk my dog – toujours!' That would be me; fluent in Franricain if nothing else.

Or, I'll say things in English, but as a French person would say them; 'She is very pretty, that house.' I know that English speakers understand what I am trying to say because I can see them nodding their heads as they sidle away from me to the far side of the room. In spite of all the joy that semi-bilingualism brings, I was much more mentally stable when I was monolingual.

To the French, I am as weird as I am to the Americans. I make up words in French. All the time.

Concerned that my husband was about to crash the car into some mountain bikers one day, and unable to come up with the word cyclistes, I yelled, 'Attention, les véloistes!' - after which I was promptly informed by all of the native French speakers within earshot that although véloistes is indeed a pretty word, ça n'existe pas.

Too, I am now incapable of using certain French words in the way that Americans use them and vice versa. I know now, for example, that á la mode means 'fashionable'. It does not mean 'ice cream on top'. I can no longer force myself to pronounce the 't' at the end of bon appétit, and I feel stupid saying Nouvelle Orléans while conversing in French when, being a Louisiana native, what I really want to say is N'awlins.

But I have to admit that — deep down — what bothers me most of all is the effect that speaking French is having on my writing. I've never had too many talents to speak of. I was never any good at sports. I was really bad at art. I did okay with my saxophone, but I had to work really hard at it. The only thing I was good at was school; specifically, anything relating to English. Need a word spelled properly? I was your girl.

The sheer number of French words that — beginning in the year 1066, to be exact — infiltrated the English language is giving me fits. I would have been better off learning Japanese.

French and English have vocabularies that are dangerously close. On top of all the faux amis, there are a good many nouns which not only mean the same thing, but are spelled in almost identical ways.

I said almost. The English word marriage, for example, is — in my humble opinion — too close for comfort to the French mariage. And, just the other day, I went nuts thinking about our address. I mean, does the word for 'apartment' in French have one p or two? Or was it three? Right. Appartement. Champion speller, I might have been, but those days are long gone.

Darn those Norman Invaders.

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November 6, 2006