The incident on the Metro

I left my hotel this morning to return to my dear cousin Laurences. I was on ligne 7, sitting by myself in a seat near the door to the train, minding my own business when... a young boy of color (to be PC) boarded the metro. He was hunched over, and I was lost in a day dream about how wonderful living in the beautiful town of Ramatuelle will be and what it would be like if some of my friends could visit...

All of a sudden, I was jolted back to reality with this young boy screaming at me in French. Quoi? Je ne parle pas français! I was very flustered - and unnverved (yesterday a young boy of color - same age and all - screamed "plutount/bitch" at me as I walked down the street). He continued to scream at me, now slowly, even though I told him that I did not understand and I didn't speak French. Meanwhile, everyone on the train is staring at me expectantly...

It really was horrific. I began to sweat and I felt embarrassed, confused - and sure, a little frightened. Finally some nice young man walked toward me from the other side of the car and said, "He wants to sit down. He has a back ache."

Well duh. He had been loudly, slowly screaming "J'ai mal à dos."

Of course, being embarrassed and grateful somebody saved me, I jumped out of my seat immidiately. But then I thought about it - this 16 year old boy had a bag half as large and heavy as mine. I grew slightly perterbed; but what was I going to do? Obviously I suck at French. I couldn't say anything... I didn't even know what he was saying when he spoke loudly and slowly, even simple phrases like "my back hurts." I mean really, here I was hoping to work in France and I couldn't even understand a phrase I learned freshmen year of highschool?

It... well, it broke my spirit.

Temporarily. (What can I say? I'm resiliant.)

You know how it goes, something like, "When you fall off the horse you gotta get back on and RIDE it!"
So I went to the marcé to buy some mile for the cereal I purchased before boarding the metro. I successfully explained to the guard at the door that I was bringing a plastic bag of food into a grocery store because the first grocery store was out of milk. I asked several people where I could find "le lait pour boire" because "milk" to them comes in a can. I even could flirt a bit with the cute boy behind me in the check-out line...

I guess that's how learning a language is: lots of highs and lows. Sometimes you're on, you can do it, and you feel like you could talk to anyone in the world. And sometimes you speak and listen so poorly you feel like you want to curl up and die because clearly you can't do anything right...

Yea, I suck at French. I've spent my whole life trying to learn it and I'm still pitiful. Sorry kids, I'm not coming home until I'm fluent.