What Learning French Has Taught Me

I studied French for years living in the States without much progress to show for it. I'm sure all the words I learned are in there somewhere, but years of toil didn't produce much. Two months of living in France has produced a lot. Aside from a new vocabulary and a completely new way of dealing with verbs, learning French has taught me so much more than just another language.

1. I am SO American.
Ok, so this should be obvious right? Well, not so much. You see, in the states when you have a slight bit of knowledge of the world at large it's easy to feel international, mysterious, exotic, and superior. Most Americans don't travel off continent and even fewer know a language other than English. So to spit out a line or two of conversational French to an "Oooo"-ing and "Awww"-ing American, taken in by your travel tales of adventures abroad, makes you feel so, so, I don't know, cool. Not to mention all us Americans LOVE to talk about our ancestral roots in the old world. "Oh I'm a quarter this and one eighth that." No one is ever just "American." Oh no, all of us are a Heinz 57 sauce full of a dash of everything.

There really is nothing like the absolute culture shock of complete immersion into a foreign country to really hit home just how much of your own culture you really are. I'm an American. Through and through. And never so much of an American as I am right now living in France. I hunt down American food and ingredients like a blood hound and pay embarrassing prices to obtain it once found. I stumble over my own culture constantly and feel rubbed the wrong way by things I know for a fact to not have been meant offensively. Yet they still bother me. Knowing is only half the battle. The fibers of my capitalist American self run deep. Even deeper than I once thought.

2. A watched pot never boils.
I'm given so much encouragement by people continually about how good my French is for someone who has been here for such a short time. Yet, American that I am, I'm impatient. I want to have deep philosophical, religious, conversations now! I don't want to stumble around like a three year old grasping for whatever word I can find to kind of sort of explain what I'm trying to say. And then say it badly. I can be understood, for the most part. I can understand others, for the most part. "A watched pot never boils," is such a fun English expression about patience. How constantly watching and waiting for something to happen will slow the time. You're so much better off forgetting about it and being surprised when suddenly it happens. 

The truth is I am getting better, daily, moment by moment. Each TV show I watch, each conversation I have is pushing me forward. More bubbles beginning to form in the water. One day it will boil. One day, without even knowing, it will have happened, I will be fluent. I look forward to that day. For now I will try to describe the deeper things of life like a 3 year old without the vocabulary to fully express what she means and wants to say.

3. People are people.
Americans think French people are so cool. We love the accent (so don't be too embarrassed by it Frenchies and don't try too hard to lose it), we love the food, we love the culture, the art, the history. It's all so rich and colorful. So different from our own. French people have a mystique to Americans. When people heard we were moving to France the reaction was as if we were moving to Disney World. "What?! France?! Oh you are SO lucky! I am SO jealous!" Yes, yes. France is gorgeous, the food is good, the landscape is lovely but people are still people.

The more French I learn the more the mystique is lost. That guy over there is a redneck. Yes he's French, but he is as much a blue-collared redneck as any hill-billy picked out of a hat from the deep woods of Kentucky. Yes he eats baguette and drinks wine instead of Budweiser and pretzels. But he is who he is. Being French doesn't change that and I love that. I love down home salt of the Earth people who aren't full of themselves and I'm so glad they're here to make me feel more at home. He isn't alone. All the classic stereotypes are here. The Auntie May, the girl next door, the geeky loner, the jock, the hippie, the prom queen, they all exist here in their own cultural equivalents. If anyone of them came to the states they'd instantly be given street cred for being French. All our stereotypes we associate with that would be placed on them immediately. If they knew how to play their cards right, they might could even play it off and reinvent themselves.

So I'm encouraged. I will continue to trip over my French and feel blessed by every French person who bothers to return the favor and trip over their bad English. I will indulge my American-ness and wait for my pot to boil. I will take comfort in knowing that these lovely people, are just people. Hopefully, one day, I will have a fabulous testimony to go with all this work and observation. For now, I'm enjoying the journey.