So, I'm back to tell you more about my visits to France this summer and
the summer before-- caution: may contain traces of stupidity.
As I mentioned in the previous post, there really is nothing like
visiting the country whose language you study to remind you why you're doing
it. As I have found on both of my visits to France-- contrary to popular
belief-- French people are lovely. No, really. The merest attempt to
communicate in French to a French person often results in a beaming smile on
their part, more than helpful advice in response to whatever you asked them,
and even the odd congratulatory comment on your linguistic abilities. What more
could you want?
In fact, this year, Rebekah (who I was traveling with) and I sat on the
fountain in the centre of Lille just to have a break from walking around. There
was a woman next to us (the fountain usually has lots of people sitting on it),
and she immediately started talking to us, asking if we were on holiday and so
on. She explained she was no good with languages, so we spoke entirely in
French. We talked about many things: love, divorce, languages, translation,
immigration... It was a text-book perfect conversation. She was very friendly.
Admittedly, had this been England I might have edged away from her a little,
but this was a linguistic opportunity not to be missed... even if I did spend
most of it with only a rough idea of what she was saying.
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| Centre Grand Place Fountain |
If you're inclined to dislike French people-- and especially Parisians,
consider my trip to Versailles last year:
When trying to make our way to Versailles, Kee and I (well, mainly me)
thought we had the métro route absolutely sussed. I was prepared with a
pocket-sized tourist booklet with a fold out métro map (I really must have
looked the part, especially when I had my rucksack). The métro is pretty much
like the London Underground, and since that's not too difficult to get your
head around, I thought this would be a piece of cake. In fact, there appeared
to be a direct line from our main station to Versailles, so we went about the
station looking for said route. Of course, we couldn't find it, so I stopped a
Parisian woman (who was clearly in a rush) for some directions.
Considering all I'd been told about how notoriously rude Parisians are, I was
surprised that after a slight hesitation she decided to help us and pointed out
that we were actually trying to find a tram line in the underground... oops.
She then kindly told us the way by the métro, which is faster in any case,
pointed us in the direction of the line and referred to a map on the wall, and
we were on our way. She really didn't need to stop on her hectic commuter's
rush to work to help two clueless tourists, but there you have it.
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| They were re-doing the gold leaf on the Palace when we visited-- looks pretty awesome! |
When we got to Versailles, we went to get tickets from the self-service
machines. An assistant came over to check that we were getting the right
tickets and so on. I had noticed on the website that students get free entry,
so I asked the assistant about this (in French), producing my university card.
Of course, since I don't go to a French university, there was no way he could
tell it was a genuine card-- or university for that matter-- so he asked to see
some official ID, which I had conveniently left in the hotel room. My friend
was far more prepared and showed her driving licence and uni card, saving her
18 euros (!!). I must admit I felt a little sick at this sum of money, and the
assistant must have taken pity, or maybe he liked the fact I'd spoken in
French, because after a moment's consideration he suddenly beckoned us to
follow him and we were led (like VIPs, I like to think) past all the ticket
desks and even queue jumped the security checks and were pointed in the
direction of the audio guide desk. I'm not sure I've ever felt so grateful to a
complete stranger. Of course, once we realised he was letting us both in for
free, we did the very British thing of saying 'thank you' continuously-- lest
he change his mind! He even gave us a little smile and a wave as he walked back
to the ticket area. Bless.
Now, really, do those three people sound like the product of a nation of
rudeness and anglophobes? I think not.
If there's one thing I'm going to miss about England while I'm in
France, it's the value for money coffees. If you find most coffee shops very
expensive over here, don't go to Europe, for goodness' sake! Having visited
Versailles, we made our way to a café for lunch where I ordered a cappuccino.
It was €5,50-- a bit steep, but really only a pound or so more than you'd pay
in England. Eventually, the barista brought over our food and drinks to the
table, and I was more than astounded at how small the coffee was. I was
expecting a coffee the size of the average mug, but this was actually the size
of a double espresso (really making my cappuccino a double macchiato-- you can
tell I'm a barista..?). If you're not familiar with coffee speak, imagine an
over-sized thimble. I'd been had.
While we're on the topic of coffee, this year I had a slightly better
cappuccino experience and possibly the most novel cappuccinos I have ever seen.
The first was served to me in a small bowl with whipped cream on top at Le Pain
Quotidien:
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| I seriously approve! |
The second was served at an Illy ice-cream parlour, which incidentally
served about every flavour of ice-cream you could possibly imagine.
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| Still not enough coffee in there, but the novelty makes up for it... |
Moving on to cold beverages now and a slightly mortifying incident in
Roubaix this year... My friend and I wanted a quick drink somewhere because it
was so hot. We walked into a little Whetherspoon's-esque diner/bar and were
immediately asked what we wanted. We'd not had time to look at a menu, so I
thought I'd ask them what cold drinks they had. I'm really not a cold-drinks
person, so I'm not used to asking-- I can order coffee just fine though.
Bearing in mind hot drinks are 'boissons chaudes', I asked if there were any
'boissons froides' which received a slightly confused look the lady tending the
bar. She then told me they had some salmon, which needless to say confused me.
Evidently, she thought I'd asked if they served cold fish ('poisson froid' presumably).
I repeated apologetically, with more emphasis on the 'b' and eventually she
realised what I meant: 'boissons fraîches'. Embarrassing mistake, yes, and
certainly counter-intuitive, but was it really so difficult to realise what I
was asking for..?
Let's go back to the previous year's travels, and-- more precisely-- the journey between Rouen and Amiens. Kee and I had to take a train from Rouen to Paris St Lazare and get a connection from Paris Nord to Amiens. We had 15 minutes between the connections, so we went at a leisurely pace to the métro ticket desk to get our tickets. We were told that the direct line between the two stations was out of order, and so we'd need to get two métros to get to Paris Nord. This was quite a long-winded journey, so we hurried to the first métro. To say that we were packed in like sardines couldn't quite convey how busy it was. People were having to get off at stations they didn't need to so that others could get off and then all the new passengers squeezed themselves in. Of course, having huge rucksacks didn't make us feel the slightest bit awkward... All the while time was marching on and by the time we reached Paris Nord there were only five minutes before our connection left. Ample, you might say, but I think Paris Nord is possibly the biggest and busiest train station I have ever been in. For one thing, it's not just trains, it's local trains, high speed trains with different areas for the different companies, trams, métros, taxis and so on. And it's always busy.
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There
were plenty of signs everywhere, but when you're in a rush it all blurs into
one and I wasn't sure which high speed train platform we needed to be at, so
I asked a guard. He wasn't really sure himself at first and was perplexingly
laid back about the whole thing, but he gave us some rough directions to the
platform and we hurried off. It was so crowded we were pushing and shoving
our way towards the high speed platforms until we came the ticket barriers--
very much like the tube. I was just coming up to a barrier, ticket at the
ready, when someone rudely barged me out of the way. It happened to be Kee
who, in the frenzy of getting to the train before it left, hadn't realised
she was pushing me out of the way rather than a stranger-- I was nearly on
the floor. (We still laugh about it.) We got through the barriers and rushed
to a platform and asked if it was the right train (1 minute to spare). No, it
wasn't and we were pointed further up the wing of the station.
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| It's also rather nice! |
Considering we had our rucksacks with us, Kee was wearing pumps and I
was wearing flip-flops (of all things), I think we ran pretty fast. So fast, in
fact that some poor commuter who happened to be in our path, walking in our
direction literally didn't know where to go. He had a look of terror and did
that little left-to-right dance you do when you don't know which way to go, as
we zoomed past him... and down the wrong side of the train: cue a sharp 180 in
which my flip-flop almost flew off my foot.
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Kee doesn't speak French, so it was more than obvious that the stress
was getting to her when she looked in all directions, hands out in confusion,
shouting in desperation the only French word she knew: 'Amiens!!'
When we got to the right side of the train, I asked/shouted at the guard
(quite out of breath, desperate, and perhaps a little crazed by the experience)
'Ce train va à Amiens?!'. He actually took a step back-- wide-eyed, more than
literally taken a-back: 'Oui!' he said. In fairness, he'd probably never met
someone so desperate to get to Amiens in his life.
We hurried onto the carriage laughing with relief. Rather
embarrassingly, the train was delayed by ten minutes before it left the station
and-- it gets better-- it was then held up part-way through the journey for two
hours (two!!) because the train in front of it broke down. So much for rushing and knocking countless people over...
Well, that's perhaps all there is of any particular interest during my
trips to France the past couple of years. By now you've probably realised I'm
prone to episodes of stupidity, awkward situations and bad timing, so rest
assured there will be more to come. I can only imagine when I actually get to
France I'll have some particularly wonderful examples of me embarrassing myself
on a regular basis, so keep reading!
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