Lost in Translation

"Americans who travel abroad for the first time are often shocked to discover that, despite all the progress that has been made in the last 30 years, many foreign people still speak foreign languages." Dave Barry

So this new girl came up to me in class today. I'm a few minutes early because I finally discovered the train-like beast that is the RER (different story)--I'm reviewing my homework which is all in French mind you. I show no signs of being American let alone signs on speaking English. So this girl comes up to me and straight away starts rambling on in English (there are more than 11 nationalities represented in our 20 person class so it's a bit presumptuous to assume I will understand her). I smile politely and respond to her questions in French, but she's not taking the hint. And this is why I understand why Parisians, French people, and foreign people in general become annoyed with us sometimes.

I'm constantly surprised at how many people speak English here. In restaurants, stores, cafes, everywhere, if you speak with the slightest trace of an American accent, they will respond to you in English. As someone who is here to practice speaking French, I find this particularly frustrating. Sometimes it's clear that my French is better than their English would be, so French should be the preferred language. Not the case.

Thank god for dinners here. Mme Dugan insists that we speak French at the table, as she should, and I can tell even in the small amount of time I've been here that the hour or so of conversational French has been so incredibly helpful. And she's not afraid to correct us, which is great in some senses but it can sometimes be a bit abrasive. French people don't hide their feelings at all. If they disagree with something that you're saying, you will know it and then some. For instance we started talking about reading and books at dinner the other night. Mme Dugan asked what types of books we liked to read. I explained that I enjoy reading thought-provoking books at times but the books I read purely for pleasure are murder/mysteries. She asked which authors I preferred, I listed a few...Mary Higgins Clark, Patricia Cornwell, and then I made the grave, grave mistake of saying Dan Brown. While this particular anecdote is significantly funnier in French, it went a little something like this..."Non. Non, non, non. He has absolutely NO talent. (while shaking her head and hand simultaneously) He is a terrible author who doesn't know how to write at all. His books require not intelligence to read. Non. No talent whatsoever."

I explained I don't read his books for their literary quality necessary, it's more of an escape. "Non." She told me. "I disagree. He cannot write. A terrible choice." Sheesh, be a little more blunt about it. But the French think nothing of a discussion like this. While American culture dictates more, ahem, polite ways to express disagreement, the French think that this is perfectly normal, socially acceptable, and quite healthy.

Tonight we had homemade ravioli with an amazing cream sauce, along with roast chicken...aaaand chips and guac? And odd combination I know, but it was delicious. We had an incredible salad on Wednesday after we came back from Les Bateaux Mouches. Initially we were disappointed because we were very much looking forward to a hot meal after the damp cold that sinks into your bones here in Paris. But it was great, it's moved to the top of my list of things I want to attempt to recreate when I come home (I've decided I will probably have to have a month long cooking marathon of sorts). It had rice, corn, ham, tomatoes, olives, cheese, and hard-boiled eggs with a homemade dijon vinaigrette. With a fresh baguette and cheese on the side. Mmm, it was awesome.


Tonight Mme Dugan posed the question "Est-ce que vous savez comment de tenir les ciseaux?" Les ciseaux? I responded, making a cutting motion. I was fairly certain she had just asked if I knew how to use scissors but was apprehensive because it was such an odd question. But no, that was indeed what she asked me. Well yes I know how to use scissors... "Good. Tomorrow you will cut my hair. I just need a straight line."
Um. What?? I tried to back-pedal explaining I'm left-handed and can't hold normal scissors very well. "But you know how to use them, right?" Well, yes. "Good, then we will try tomorrow and you will cut my hair."

Awesome, somehow I got tricked into giving my host mother a hair-cut. I feel like this is a disaster waiting to happen. Also I'm pretty positive she started the dinner conversation tonight by asking me if I was gaining weight since I've been here. Oh how I love this language sometimes.