I am making steadfast progress on my commitment to learn the French language.
Every day, I immerse myself in French-language podcasts while walking to and fro the subway. My favorite is the Dailyfrenchpod, which features an unfailingly cheerful French man named Louis who presents a 3-7 minute French lesson. The scope of the Dailyfrenchpod can range from a single word (“Le mot de jour”) to a scripted conversation between two rapid-speaking French natives.
I am picking up some unlikely slang words from Louis: “Le mot du jour est connasse… connasse… co-nass-uh… En anglais, bitch. Par exemple, c’est une connasse. She’s a bitch.” Apparently, Louis can have really bad days.
Once a week, I go to a local French conversation class for beginners of varying degrees of proficiency. I floundered for the first two classes, unaccustomed to having to produce French on-the-fly and without the aid of a textbook, but I’m beginning to find my stride. The teacher encourages us to “Frenchify” words if we’re stuck, a tactic that works — imaginez ma surprise.
The weekly pressure of “performing” in front a classroom of strangers is motivating me to try out my French at home. Pity my poor husband, who waits patiently as I struggle through spellbinding homilies like: “Aujourd’hui, j’ai vu un chat. Il est un mignon chat. Je voulais toucher le chat, mais non. Le chat regardait les oiseaux.” (Today I saw a cat. It is a cute cat. I wanted to touch the cat, but no. The cat was looking at the birds.)
Just saying that is intellectually exhausting. Luckily, the novelty of hearing me speak French seems to be compensating for the feebleness of my repertoire. Most of the time. Today we passed an accident scene attended by police cruisers and tow trucks. “Beaucoup de lumieres!” I exclaimed, and Mr. P laughed. “It’s like you suddenly turn into a 2-year child. ‘Lots of lights!'”
A 2-year old child!? That’s progress!
