this post was submitted on 21 Mar 2024
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Try ordering at a french breakfast joint if you want to learn what true humiliation feels like. Having your French criticized by an unexpectedly persistent native speaker is unforgettable. I ordered coffee not crepes, you pretentious Italian-derivative median fish in the world’s tiniest pond. I see you snickering. Who orders a raspberry coffee? Guillaume, if you’re reading this, I hope you never eat a decent croissant again for the rest of your life.
I was at a Hard Rock Café in Paris (yes I know they're overpriced, but the historic stuff on the walls is pretty cool), and I hobbled my way through a conversation in my very basic French, before adding a little self-deprecating "je suis désolée, mon Français est mauvais", to which he replied "yes, it is a bit shit".
I laughed, he laughed, my other half laughed, I paid over the odds for a pint, the French dude got a kick out of pointing out the flaws in my attempts, everyone went on their day.
I was at a place outside Paris, not too far, but in the Normandy countryside, in a tour group for French people because that's what was running when we arrived and we didn't want to wait an hour for the English version.
Me, with my three years of college-level French, was reasonably able to translate for my wife and ask simple questions. I held most of our questions until the end when everyone else had wandered off, so as to not bother anyone, and when we got the chance I started in with the more involved questions. This biscuit of a young woman listens to me stutter my question out with an utterly deadpan look on her face, and paused, then answered in English.
I was like, I'm trying here. At least acknowledge I'm trying to respect your culture.