France, language, and the problem with the French

Walls, Doors, and Plateaus

I love it, but it’s occasionally a real pain in the ass to learn a language. There is inevitably some kind of awkward social situation just waiting to happen. I’ve written about this before, but it really just keeps happening.

While learning anything, you hit a series of walls, or plateaus. I like to think that I'm a reasonably smart guy, but I tend to sound like a young child in French. And not a particularly smart young child. It’s tough to speak to your friends like that.

Thanks for reading Keith’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

There are many french people I deal with here who don’t seem to be so welcoming to me trying out their language. I wish it weren’t so, France, but you do keep reminding me.

There’s an almost British sense of terror about socially awkward situations here. Not to make too broad a statement about both countries, but people in the US are just much more likely to talk to strangers and not be so bothered if it doesn’t go well, whether or not those strangers want to talk to them.

Nobody loves an awkward moment. But when I see a kind of consternation and panic on the people's faces, it only takes one or two to be a bit discouraging. And so if English is available, then we just switch over to that, as lazy as it is for me.

What’s the French word for awkward again?

I really need to pay attention to my accent as well – I know it’s terrible. There's a young woman at the pharmacy near our apartment who seems to be in real pain whenever I try to speak to her. She has a very expressive face. I have to avoid looking at her direclty, maybe staring at her very furrowed eyebrows instead. And pharmacies cover all kinds of things here, so I am over there every other week for something small. I try and place my order and get whatever done I need to get done.  Quickly.

Now, we both seem to have that moment of dread when we realize that I am the next in line and out of the 3 people working there, she is up. She maintains a professional smile, but her eyes show a mild panic, very likely mirrored in mine.

I used to try to be polite about it, to talk to her like the woman ahead of me spoke to their pharmacist.

“Hello. How are you? Nice to see you again. Do you have aspirin…?” Or whatever.

I know they have asprin. So now it’s just”

“Hello? Hi. Aspirin? Thanks.”

Which appeals to the New Yorker in me, so that works out. She seems relived to be able to handle what I need quickly and then move on. It works.

The guy at my bakery seems to get totally disoriented, maybe like what a bird or a pigeon stuck in a small room would feel like, whenever I ask for anything. Like the pharmacist, I can see his eyes shift when he realizes I am up next.

When I went there yesterday, he smiled and seemed to try to step back, which was weird because the place is impossibly small. He could not have stepped back if he wanted to. Someone else helped me while he continued to smile and nod, as if I might attack him suddenly. Or worse, ask him a question he doesn’t understand.

A guy in my shared office space, a well-meaning type with pretty excellent English, seems to want to practice with me. It seems that he lived in the US for a while, but still drops winning lines about how American people seem like children. At this point, I’ve had a few Europeans tell me that Americans are “like children.” I smile and nod at a moment, but there is likely a shift in my eyes as well.

When feeling charitable, I chalk statements like this up to a language barrier. One problem with being American is that people often in other countries seem to think that they understand American culture, more or less, because they see it on TV.  Why yes, I did live in an apartment just like on Friends. Just like it.

At the same time, the French themselves seem to live with this as well and I've heard plenty of French folks correct each other. People practice what they know.

Thanks for reading Keith’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.