Do I look like I speak French? I must… until I get that gads, I’ve no idea what you’re saying look on my face that I think I’ve got nearly perfected.
This morning when I took Kaitlyn to her last day of summer camp, the director struck up a conversation with me. Mind you, she did this after greeting me in French then Kaitlyn in English. Then she turned back to me and just started carrying on and on in French. I think she told me something about practicing her English to go to Australia or England… and I’m most sure that she told me one time on her way back from Canada she had an 11 hour layover in England so she ate and found the food to be horrible. The food, apparently, is her only hesitation about going to England. At least, I think it is.
Once Kaitlyn was off playing, I figured I’d better tend to one more activity that is nearly impossible with Kaitlyn along. A haircut. I wandered into the hairdresser I’ve been to the last couple of times and asked for an appointment. Je voudrais prendre un rendez-vous, sil vous plait. Then I did my patented pointing to my gray hairs. She asked me when.. I said today. She asked me morning or afternoon. I don’t know how to say either. So I sort of shrugged and in English said it didn’t matter. Then I was fairly sure she told me to sit and wait while she cut some man’s hair, so I sat. She didn’t laugh or shoo me out so I must have understood.
While cutting my hair she tried to strike up a conversation. I guess she figured I’m now a regular-enough customer for her to recognize me so she might as well chip away at trying to talk to me. I managed to tell her we’ve lived here since October and will stay between 3 and 5 years. She repeated it back to me the way I should have said it… but it meant she got the idea. Which is how my end of conversations usually go anyway. At one point, she started asking me about le prochain fois cutting my hair plus court. (shorter) This time, my mis-translation allowed me to make a firm answer… and luckily so. I thought she’d asked if she’d cut my hair shorter last time I was in… she was proposing to do that next time. Fortunately, I had said no quickly. Then worrying that my non was too abrupt, I tried to explain that mon marie prefere comme ca… pointing below my shoulders to indicate how Bill would like me to wear my hair. I hope she understood that just above my shoulders is the compromise that’s kept us married for ten years now.
I finally escaped there.. after trying to ask if she’s open next week so that Kaitlyn can get her hair cut and finally see again. Then I wandered down to a little knick-knack store/ice cream shop/coffee place/restaurant (perhaps it’s spreading itself a wee bit too thin…) in hopes of finding a bag in which to carry my French books. There I managed to bludgeon the language once again when the shop keeper asked me if I was looking for something in particular (yes, something on sale) and I answered her with the wrong verb conjugation. It may not sound so horrible, but it felt really horrible. I hate feeling stupid. I didn’t find a bag the right size and tried to scrape up what was left of my pride to say au revoir, merci, madame on my way out.
Some days I really REALLY wish I hadn’t dropped French in college when it got too hard! Darn university, allowing us to take literature and films in translation to fill our foreign language requirement!
You know, Mandy, I think that you know more French than you realize. I bet you don’t sound stupid at all! It is incredibly hard to learn a new language and it sounds like you are doing great!