The Language Barrier

I think of how many people I know in the United States who cannot speak much of any other language at all. I almost wonder how they travel. At the same time, I don’t wonder because in this world, with the domination of America and England, everyone speaks English. Everyone. I look at my Dutch friends who speak English SO well it’s amazing – and all of them do. It’s terribly impressive.

It must be easy. If English is your first language, speak slowly and everyone will understand you and respond in kind. Hence why people like Tony here have lived three years in the south of France and still doesn’t know a lick of the language. But imagine if that wasn’t the case. Imagine if people only spoke their native tongue. Americans would be screwed.

Sometimes at work, when I’m behind the bar, a customer will come up and speak French with awe-inspiring speed and thick accents. I, of course, understand none of it. So I tell them to please speak slowly, I don’t speak French, and every time – to my surprise – they apologize. They actually tell me that they are sorry, they’re sorry they spoke French to me (like they could have otherwise known I don’t speak the language?! It seems ridiculous to me that they apologize for this – I’m behind the bar in a France, they obviously would assume I speak French), and then they apologize that they don’t speak better English (which again seems ridiculous to me. Why should they be sorry they don’t speak perfect English?!). Whenever I encounter this situation, which is quite often, I can only respond with the honest truth lingering in my heart: “Non! S’il vous plait, n’êtes pas désolé! Je suis désolée que je ne comprends pas français bien! J’habite de votre pays, donc je devrais apprendre votre langue.” (“No, don’t be sorry! I’m sorry I don’t understand French better! I live in your country, I should speak your language.”) I think they appreciate that.

But for not speaking French well, working has been surprisingly easy. I apologize for my bad French and they either speak slowly or speak English. They tip me – in fact, I’m the only one there who gets tips – probably because I’m so honest and I do try to speak French and adapt to them (or because I’ve got boobs and speak with an accent – either or, tips work for me).

Of course, as I was walking the dog earlier I ran into someone with a big dog and as our dogs sniffed each other, we introduced ourselves. Upon hearing my accent, the woman said to me, “Ah, vous n’êtes pas française. Vous êtes d’ou?”

“Je suis de Boston, aux états Unis.”

“Oh, I’m from Arlington…”

Funny who you meet abroad, huh?

I don’t know. I do know that in the past two weeks that I’ve been hanging out/working at Le P’tit Club, my French has improved tremendously. Though I don’t speak it very well, everyone seems to understand me and I can hold my own in a conversation – as long as they don’t speak to quickly. I came here to learn French, and I am. Life’s good.