VOICE

There are two places where I find it impossible to speak French: in cafés and in the home I live in.

The first, cafés, just becomes a series of bumbling interactions but luckily it's not necessary to have a well developed conversation in order to eat food at a restaurant. Be aware that cafés or brasseries are all around confusing. A stereotype of France is that the service is terrible and while it's true, this is a country where the customer is not always right, I generally don't have a large problem with the service I meet with. After all, living in a tiny town in a rural place where all you have are small shops that are often run by seemingly (though not always truly) taciturn folk or staffed by upstart high schoolers you don't expect to be charmed every time you need to purchase something. In cafés though I am always at a loss. I step inside and shift from one foot to the other trying to decide if I'm supposed to wait to be seated or sit where I want, then the host often waves me to pick where I'd like to sit but then tells me I've picked the wrong spot so I move and then once my meal is over and I turn down dessert and coffee they do not bring your bill. You've made it clear you want no more of their food or drink and they do not bring your bill you have to ask for it. It's like they don't care if you take up space in their restaurant and have lengthy, enjoyable conversations with your dining partners! What a novel idea! But still I don't like having to catch the waiter's attention to ask for my bill because they never seem pleased to acknowledge you at that point. I've been learning that I need to memorize phrases and practice saying them charmingly so that I feel less like I've sunk into a quagmire of language vulnerability when these situations arrive.

In the second area, this home, it is half not a problem that I'm at a frenchy loss. I'm paid to speak English. Though when they have guests over and I'm supposed to keep up the work of making myself at home and being like a member of the family things start slipping and I can't keep my verbs and pronouns straight and all sense of vocabulary is fleeing down the rain soaked street.

But when strangers stop me on the street, like the old man yesterday in bright red Crocs ("Bonjour ma jolie princess!"), or when people from church invite me over for lunch and then keep me until nightfall, spending the day with their family playing games and talking and going for lovely walks, all is well. That is not to say my French comes flawlessly and fluidly pouring out of my mouth. There are still stumbles but I can get back up.

I suppose it has something to do with the social arrangement of these situations. In the successful operations, people are choosing to speak with me and give me their attention. In the former failful experiences, I am a member of a rapidly speaking group and therfore have to run, jump, and speak very loudly in order to take part in the conversation. As that's a thing I'm no great shakes at in English, small wonder it's a struggle in France. And here, so very far from things familiar like chunky peanut butter and oatmeal, this is what I have to learn: to speak up or I will never be heard.