"I Can't Speak French . . ." (Or Any Other Language For That Matter)

If this was my blog, I would probably at this point try to be clever and post the Girls Aloud video of the same name, even though it really adds no value to the post whatsoever. But it's NOT my blog and I wouldn't really have the FIRST clue of how to do it. I'm Paula and I'm temporarily renting a guest post here in LCT's absence since, as you probably know, she's off to South Africa, the lucky thing! So you have to put up with me in her place, like one of these slovenly sub-letters who make a bit of a mess then leave someone else to clean up. Don't worry, I'll try to respect her space. I really wanted to try and do a lovely positive and sunny blog, you see, because LCT seems like a sunny and positive and lovely person. But that's kinda the complete OPPOSITE of what I am to be honest (at least I admit it, give me THAT at least!!!) so I will TRY to be nice but can't guarantee I'll manage it. In honour of LCT's travels, I'll try to blog on a SLIGHTLY related subject - which you may have guessed already from the title of the post. My regret that I can't speak a language. Apart from English anyway. It's not necessarily French I don't regret being able to speak, I should point out.. I would be happy if I could hold a conversation in Italian, Spanish, Portugese . . . even Mandarin. It doesn't even necessarily have to be somewhere I'm ever planning to GO in my life where I will need to USE it. I just would LOVE to have that knowledge. The only subject I've ever TRIED to learn though is French. I'm probably a bit of a disappointment to my mother that I am no good at it because she actually used to be a french teacher. She even LIVED in France teaching for a year as a student. The year I started at high school, she took me to Paris, and also to a village called Bernay in (I think!) Normandy where she had lived back then, in an attempt to give me a head start on my French. It didn't really work. She did all the talking when French was required, and when we stayed with the family she had lived with in Bernay, they constantly spoke to me in English so it was all in vain really. As it turned out, I was okay generally at UNDERSTANDING French and even WRITING it, but holding a CONVERSATION in it??? A completely different story. After all, sometimes I find it hard to hold a conversation in ENGLISH, let alone another language. One day I remember a teacher getting really annoyed at me because she asked me what I'd done at the weekend and I said "nothing". I genuinely HADN'T done anything that weekend (I didn't have much of a life as a child), and didn't see why I should have to make up a lie about it. I didn't realise that French also required more improvisation than drama class and more creative licence than English. "So you just stared at the four walls all day?" she sneered sarcastically at me. Nowadays, I probably would have snapped back something like "En Francais, s'il vous plait!" Back then I . . . cried. Yes. I also had the opportunity with uni to go to Lyons and study there for half a year. I passed it up, which is something part of me regrets, but the other part of me knows I probably wouldn't have lasted. The idea of being thrown into a completely different culture where no one speaks the same language as me would have thrown me completely. I don't even think I could do it now. It definitely would have improved my French though, that's for sure. Sometimes I think maybe I should try and teach myself another language, or sign up for a course. But when it comes down to it, I just don't have the discipline. AT ALL. I mean, I haven't even STARTED the creative writing course I signed up for three months ago, what hope do I have of learning another language??? But I sometimes find it so mortifying how we native English speakers are generally (please note: I KNOW not everyone is like this) ignorant when it comes to other languages. How we go to other countries and EXPECT people to understand us even though we have made no effort whatsoever to speak in their language. And how, even more mortifyingly, they actually CAN speak in our language. Which is one of the hardest in the world to learn. Man, it makes me feel so small. But let me tell you, before I go, a heartwarming tale of a boy who DID try to make an effort. A friend told me this. Her friend Peter went to France with his girlfriend. As they walked up to the hotel reception to check in, he turned to her and said "Don't worry, I did French in high school. I'LL deal with this." So up he walked to the desk, smiled at the receptionist and said: "Bonjour! Je m'appelle Pierre {insert surname here}. Quel age as-tu?" I'm not sure what's funnier. The fact he changed his name into the French version of it, or asked the age of the receptionist. Anyway, at least he TRIED . . . :) Au revoir!!!