Because It's Sexy When I Say, "Vieillard" & Other Reasons Why Learning French is Worth It.

"It's so sexy when you say vieillard."

"Say vieillard!"

I have yet to come across an anglophone who would say to me, "It's so sexy when you say old man."

"Say old man! Say it again!"

I've heard fellow western anglophone Canadians say that they would be afraid to move to Montréal because they would have to learn French, and to that I say:

I don't blame you.

Learning a second language is hard.

And indeed the older you are the harder it gets. When I first moved to Montréal I could not make a single complete sentence in French. Despite ten years of French class in elementary and high school, all that retained with me after a six-year pause for university were:

• Comment ça-va? How are you?
• Quel temps fait-il aujourd'hui? How is the weather today?
• Vivre la résistance! Live the resistance!

And a few other phrases that were especially useless when I couldn't understand the person's response. 

A few times I embarrassed myself.

ME

 Au revoir Thom. Je te moucher.

THOM

(laughs and laughs and laughs)

Oh my god. You have no idea what you just said.

What I wanted to say:

ME

Bye Thom. I'll miss you.

What I actually said:

ME

Goodbye until we meet again Thom. I blow your nose.

It can be so frustrating. For a time it feels like your learning so fast and then you hit a plateau where it feels like you are learning nothing. You read children's picture books and they're still too hard, you don't understand anybody and when you talk you sound like a baby, or a really-really-really drunk person. You repeat yourself, you ask people to repeat themselves, you frustrate them, you frustrate yourself, you look up the word, you forget it, you try to say it, you say it wrong, you repeat, and the cycle continues and it only gets marginally better every day.

Early on in my adventure the prettiest of my bosses told me, "Ne lâche pas la patate!" an expression which means "Never give up!" but directly translates to, "Don't let go of the potato!"

And another friend told me not to be afraid to speak; make mistakes with confidence and when you make too many, say these words: "Je ne regrette rien!" I regret nothing!

Which lead me to Edith Piaf and her renowned smash-hit song on this very subject. Here it is with English subtitles, you can play it while you read the rest if you like!

It's become my theme song; an anthem, and it applies to so much more than just my decision to learn French. It's the tune I hum as I scrub toilets with one hand, and hold a fine arts degree with the other.

"Don't let go of the potato," what does that even mean? Why am I holding a potato? What is the potato???

It's so hard! Even with taking 25 hours of class per week plus practicing with fellow colleagues every day it feels like I am learning as fast as a snail crawling uphill through peanut butter.

I look back to four months ago when I talked like a baby, I now have the relative grammar and comprehension of a four-year-old.

Throughout my lifetime I have accumulated this great big ego, and now I daily endure the slings and arrows (<-Shakespeare thank you!) of disappointment, embarrassment, and seemingly-wasted hard work. This is especially true when someone asks me for help and I cannot give it to them.

Sometimes I get so frustrated I just want to quit and go back to where I came from. I don't need to speak French in Canada...

"I don't need to speak French in Canada."

Wait...

I'm a person from small-town Manitoba, where I grew up around a language that they speak in the province to my right, the province to my left, and in the entire country below me.

Knowing English has enabled me to travel the width of my vast country with ease, and have the opportunity to obtain jobs without having to prove my language proficiency.

I don't need to learn French. I don't need to learn a second language, and what a privilege that is indeed.

Would somebody from small-town Québec say, "I don't need English"?

NO!!!

Well, maybe.

But I know if it were me I would have no choice but to learn English if I ever wanted to leave my small town, just to go somewhere within my own country. Even if I wanted to go to Montréal bilingualism is a strong asset and in some cases necessary for the English and the Québecois to find work. Despite the vast accessibility of English media and the common belief that it is an "easier" language to learn, the fact remains:

Learning a second language is hard.

Then I take my attention away from my poor precious ego, and I look at the people surrounding me.

There are people who've given me their utmost patience and grace, and in doing so have helped me succeed in sounding like a four-year-old, and will surely continue supporting me long after I sound like a five-year-old.

There are  people who I couldn't have met had they not also at some point learned a second language.

There are people who I never could have talked to if I hadn't learned their language.

And all of these people are the reasons why it's worth it.

Why don't I let go of the potato?

Si vous comprenez ceci, c'est à cause de vous.

I leave you today, with a quote from my grade 8 French teacher to the class clown.

"Learn French Mitch, because one day you will meet the love of your life and she will only speak French. Then what will you do?" -- M. Luko

Meeting the Naked Calendar Lady & Other Cool Things I Do With All This Time On My Hands

Without a cafe job I have been able to study French, do yoga, and a whole bunch of other things I like to do like: read, draw, and receive kindness from strangers.

I've chosen not to stress about this whole losing my job fiasco. It was just a cafe, do I really need to mourn the loss of pouring coffee?

No? Good.

So since my last post the cool things that have happened have been:

1) Halloween.

The coolest part of this night is I got to spend it with someone from France and someone from Switzerland who have never experienced Halloween before. It was a fantastic night, and I am so glad that they will remember that as their first Halloween.

2) French school.

Twenty hours per week is a lot of hours but I quite enjoy learning the language. My teacher is Santa Clause, so that's nice. He doesn't give us anything though; except education that we can use for the rest of our lives. Oh and he hates children.

But he's Santa Clause because of his white beard, round spectacles, and jolly demeanour.

Fact: The French word for Santa Clause is “le Pére Noel.” So if I ever refer to my French teacher I think that is the name I will use for him, delightful man.

This is also where I was on the receiving end of Human kindness. A woman came into the class offering help for anyone needing financial assistance. That was me! I went into her office with nothing but my story and left with a food bank and an application for financial aid. Turns out she's a single mother who just wants to help people, like how she was helped in the first years of her child's life. Beautiful woman. Truly an unsung hero.

3) Friends

Lately my close group of friends at the hostel consists of two British Columbians, a Swiss, and a Haitian. They are a hilarious bunch.

The friends I meet here are often temporary. We meet. We fall in love. They leave. We never make promises that we will see each other again, but relish the fact that the world is small, and that there are still many more adventures to be had, and maybe in one of those adventures we will see each other again. I have quite a few friends like this now. One on every inhabited continent, and for that I feel very very lucky indeed.

That being said, I've now been invited to two actual apartments for beers and for Thanksgiving! I have a friend who comes over and watches Doctor Who every week. This morning my boss hugged me and told me not to call him “boss” anymore, because we have reached the point in our friendship that it was weird now. I am so happy I could die... but I won't.

4) I Met the Naked Lady

Have you ever seen somebody naked before you meet them?

It certainly doesn't happen to me often.

It was about a month ago, my beloved French friend Cycy and I had to clean the messaline aka The Mezz. Quite the job. We had to scrub mystery sludge, and sort through the old luggage, then recycle or dispose of anything that had been on the shelf for over a year.

Two large black suitcases were six months over due; we dubbed them abandoned then opened them to sort through what we could give to the poor, and what we could recycle. Inside I remember a few of the things that we found including: lingerie, green tea bags, a map with something circled on it, and multiple copies of a nude calendar featuring the same model.

You learn a lot about a person; going through their suitcase. Cycy and I exchanged different theories on who this woman could be, and why she never came back for her things. 

So then it was shift change for the receptionist; he came into the Mezz and saw the calendar. His jaw dropped and he said, “Oh my god. I know her!”

Apparently she is a regular at the hostel; has been for years.

The receptionist left promptly and red-in-the-cheeks to send a sincere apology email but not before telling us that we needed to put everything back because she would most certainly return this year.

And she did.

I'll admit, I didn't recognize her with her clothes on.

Be smart; hug all your friends; support local artists and buy a wall calendar.

Thanks for reading!