5 Days to Learn French!

Two years ago, my friend Darren and I went on a cycling trip to France. But rather than taking the sensible option and learning some French beforehand, I decided to rely on my distant memory of language classes in high school (Over 35 years ago!)

I could still remember some simple words and phrases like ‘Bonjour Madam/Monsieur’ and ‘Le chat et dans le jardin,’ so at least if I were to cycle past a house with a cat on the lawn, I could have a deep and meaningful conversation with its owner.

Another reason I didn’t bother learning much French before the trip, was because Darren is quite fluent. His wife is French Canadian, and after many years of marriage she’s taught him a lot. He seems especially adept at ordering French perfume and handbags along the Champs Élysée!

Darren has a heart of gold, but he’s also a bit of a joker. So while he’s happy helping me out of a pickle, he’ll quite happily watch me swim in the vinegar and have a good laugh at my expense first. Which brings me to my first experience in a French bakery!

To be fair to Darren, he gave me every chance to get it right. When we walked into the patisserie, I hung on his every word as as he began ordering …

“Bonjour madame! Sandwich au jambon et au fromage sil vous plait.”

Then after getting into some pleasantries with madame that I couldn’t understand, he looked at me with a wily grin and left the patisserie. I was on my own! With a French person!

I mean how hard could it be, right? I just had to copy him and it would be fine. The only problem was I wanted a tuna sandwich, not cheese and ham. I started getting nervous as I rehearsed what I was going to say, then …

“ahh … oh god help me … hmmm … err … can I have … no sorry I mean … em … shit … I…”

It felt worse than being at my first job interview! I could see Darren watching my performance from outside the entrance to the patisserie. He was munching on his jambon and trying not to laugh, while the madame was expectantly waiting for me to order. Then after a minutes embarrassing silence, I blurted out one single word at her like a deranged madman …

“TUNA!!”

She scowled at me, mumbled a few French words that I probably deserved, then handed me my jambon. I just about managed to choke out a ‘Merci’ before I left, although I think what I was really saying was ‘mercy!’ Obviously Darren has never let me live this moment down since.

So now it’s two years on and I’ve only gone and done it again. We are both cycling to France next week and I have learned absolutely zero! All I can remember from our last visit, was that every time I said Je voudrais before attempting to order food, Darren started giggling like an immature schoolgirl. It turns out the French don’t say ‘Je voudrais’ (Can I have) before ordering food. It’s too formal apparently!

It’s going to be even harder this time as we are going to watch two stages of Le Tour de France. This means I will be surrounded by a mass of excitable French cycling fans drinking vin blanc and bière. If I open my mouth once they will quite rightly, se moquer de piss Anglais!

So I now have five days left to cram as much French into my petit brain as humanly possible. Souhaitez-moi bonne chance! Although ‘Wish me luck’ seems so much easier!

Merci de lire!

*

Originally published at https://medium.com/never-stop-writing/i-almost-quit-my-work-pension-e54ef1bc2e2c