La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, Chapter 2 of the Intermediate Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Bon, dis-moi tout, Hervé. Je te connais très bien et j’ai vu le regard entre vous deux. Tu as quelque chose à me dire ?” J’étais énervée, mais c’est vrai que j’avais un peu peur aussi à propos de ce que mon frère allait me dire.

“Ben, non c’est rien, Leïla,” il a dit, mais il rougissait un peu et était mal à l’aise. C’était clair.

“Rien ? Je l’ai vu, Hervé ! En fait, j’en ai vu deux ! Pourquoi vous vous regardiez comme ça ?” j’ai insisté.

“C’est juste que tu avais l’air un peu inquiet à propos de ta conversation avec Jean-Louis,” il a répondu.

“Et, alors ?” j’ai demandé.

“Alors, récemment, je ne sais pas comment dire ça, mais Amina et moi, nous avons l’impression que peut-être tu n’es pas complètement heureuse,” il a admis. Il avait une expression grave.

“Comment ça, pas heureuse ?” j’ai demandé. “Hervé, c’est normal ! J’ai trois petits enfants, je fais mes études et j’ai un mari qui…”

“Qui…” a répété Hervé. “Qui quoi, Leïla ?”

“Un mari qui…” j’ai commencé, mais je n’étais pas capable de terminer la phrase. Qui était la femme que j’avais entendu quand j’ai appelé ? Ou est-ce que je l’imaginais ? Perdue dans mes pensées, j’ai sursauté lorsque mon frère a pris ma main avec douceur.

“Leïla, écoute-moi. Comme je t’ai dit, tu me connais très bien. Ben, je te connais très bien aussi, tu sais. Je n’ai pas besoin de connaître les détails, mais je veux que tu saches que tu peux toujours me parler. Je suis là pour toi. Amina, aussi. On t’aime bien, Leïla, et on ne veut pas que tu sois malheureuse. C’est une des raisons pourquoi on t’a demandé de nous accompagner lors de ce voyage. On voyait que tu étais soucieuse, et on s’est dit que ça serait une bonne idée pour toi de venir avec nous pour changer tes idées un peu. Tu es ma petite sœur et mon rôle est de te protéger.”

“Me protéger de quoi exactement, Hervé ?” j’ai demandé, “Je ne suis plus une enfant.”

“Je connais ça bien, Leïla. Peut-être que ‘protéger’ n’était pas le bon mot. Je veux m’assurer que tu sois heureuse, c’est tout.”

“Merci, j’e l’apprécie bien, Hervé. Et tu n’as pas tort. Je ne suis pas totalement heureuse mais je ne sais pas pourquoi. Je vais réfléchir un peu. Peut-être que j’essaie de trop faire en ce moment, avec les enfants, mes études, tout ça. Ce n’est pas facile de tout jongler, tu sais,” j’ai admis. “C’est pour cette raison que je suis tellement connaissante d’être ici, avec vous. Je ne peux pas le croire !”

“Profite bien, alors, frangine !” Hervé a dit et il a souri chaleureusement. “Et n’oublie pas qu’on est toujours là pour toi.”

“Merci mon frangin,” je lui ai dit. “Je l’apprécie beaucoup.”

“Right, tell me everything, Hervé. I know you very well and I saw the look between you two. Do you have something to say to me?” I was annoyed, but it’s true I was also a little afraid about what my brother was going to say to me.

“Well, no it’s nothing, Leïla,” he said, but he was blushing a little and was ill at ease. It was obvious.

“Nothing? I saw it, Hervé. In fact, I saw two of them! Why were you looking at each other like that?” I insisted.

“It’s just that you seemed a bit worried about your conversation with Jean-Louis,” he responded.

“And, so?” I asked.

“So, recently, I don’t know how to say this, but Amina and I, we’ve got the impression that perhaps you’re not totally happy,” he admitted. He had a serious expression.

“What do you mean, not happy?” I asked. “Hervé, it’s normal! I have three little kids, my studies and I have a husband who…”

“Who…” repeated Hervé. “Who what, Leïla?”

“A husband who…” I started but I was incapable of finishing the sentence. Who was the woman I heard when I called? Or was I imagining it? Lost in my thoughts, I jumped when my brother took my hand kindly.

“Leïla, listen to me. You said you know me very well. Well, I know you very well, too, you know. I don’t need to know the details, but I want you to know you can always speak to me. I am here for you. Amina, too. We really love you, Leïla, and we don’t want you to be unhappy. It’s one of the reasons we asked you to come with us on this trip. We saw that you weren’t yourself, so we said to ourselves that it would be a good idea for you to come with us to get away from it all for a bit. You’re my little sister and my role is to protect you.”

“Protect me from what exactly, Hervé?” I asked. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“I know that, Leïla. Maybe ‘protect’ wasn’t the right word. I just want to be sure that you’re happy, that’s all.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, Hervé. And you’re not wrong. I’m not totally happy but I don’t know why. I’m going to think about it a bit. Maybe I’m trying to do too much at the moment, with the children, my studies, all that. It’s not easy to juggle it all, you know,” I admitted. “That’s why I am so grateful to be here, with you. I can’t believe it!”

“So make the most of it, sis!” Hervé said and he smiled warmly. “And don’t forget I’m always there for you.”

“Thanks bro,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

Sent to the fence

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably in a bit of a hurry to learn French. By that, I don’t necessarily mean you have an upcoming trip or are about to take a new job in a French-speaking country. I just mean that you’re very keen to get better and dream of the day when French words will flow effortlessly out of your bouche*.

I remember when I first got serious about my French. I have a very clear vision of my bedroom floor being strewn with verb conjugations on lined foolscap pages with those little white circles around the holes to stop them from tearing out of the lever arch files (remember them?). We only graduated to those ever-awkward files in upper school if I recall. I also have no memory of my sister (with whom I shared a room) being mad about the mess for once, so she must have already left to go off to university in Perth. My best guess, therefore, would be Year 11, which means I’d been doing French for several years before I really knuckled down.

Our teachers must have been extremely patient with us as we fumbled our way through our verbs, mangling and mispronouncing the conjugations in our rush to achieve fluency. I imagine they didn’t have a lot of choice, mind you. This was coastal semi-rural Western Australia in the 80s. I suppose they were taking a ‘softly, softly’ approach in order to avoid losing us to the much stronger forces of the time: the beach and boys. I’ll be forever grateful to the language department at my local high school for opening our eyes to the world beyond our Puberty Blues-esque origins. They really were battling a pretty strong cultural current.

So, possibly motivated by a short exchange I did to l’Île de la Réunion* in Year 10, I must have decided it was time to get serious about my French. I did so by writing out reams and reams of verb conjugations. I did it because I loved French, but I must admit, too, that it satisfied the slightly obsessive part of me that dogs/helps me to this day. Yes, I had to brush them up a little many moons later when I started Lingua Franca, but the intellectual muscle memory was there, so the process was more agréable* than laborieux*.

I have no such muscle memory when it comes to tennis, as I must have only played it for a season or two as a child. This is an unfortunate fact for my tennis coach, though he wears it with patience and grace. One of the kindest and friendliest men I’ve ever met, he nevertheless lets me get away with absolument rien*.

At a recent lesson, before I even got a ball in my hand, Vince asked me to shadow his stroke with my racket in an attempt to get the fundamentals of the forehand swing down pat. We did this with our backs to the fence to the side of the court so as to shorten my swing and therefore reduce the margin for error. When he was satisfied I was close to mimicking his stroke, he allowed me onto the court, and started gently lobbing balls to my forehand side, reminding me that the technique was more important than the result.

Though my ears received the message, my body did not react as it was simultaneously receiving a message from my brain that screamed “imagine if I absolutely creamed this ball and hit a winner?”. Naturally, any technique I may have possessed just a minute or two before was instantly forgotten and as though to underscore my recalcitrance as a student, my ball went straight into the net. Vince let this go a couple of times (as I mentioned, he really is très patient*), but as more and more of my balls found the net, he suggested that we may need to return to the fence, sans ballon*, to go over the technique once again.

Naturellement*, I didn’t want to do this, so I tried harder and harder to whack the ball over the net, which caused me to tighten up and, well, you can probably imagine the rest. Being sent to the corner, like when we were in primary school is called aller au piquet* in French, and with my head slightly bowed and my sneakers dragging across the court to the sideline, Vince probably wondered if he wasn’t, in fact, dealing with une petite gamine*, rather than a fully-grown 51-year-old femme*.

In case you haven’t already gathered, being sent to the fence is the sportif* equivalent of being told to learn your verbs.

So many of you express the desire to just “speak, speak, speak!” and we, as your tutors, are here to facilitate that, of course, but it is also truly what we’d love for you to be able to do. There’s nothing better than looking at a student you’ve been teaching for months or perhaps years on end, and one day suddenly realising they actually speak French! It’s as rewarding for us as it is enriching for you. Sometimes, though, achieving that goal does mean we have to suggest that you spend some time back against the fence in order to come back to the playing field of speaking better prepared to claim your victory.

By the way, I’ve noticed over the years that there are periods where you can skate by without really mastering your verbs…and then there are times (often months later, when you’re least expecting it) when that fence will be looming. In my experience, and according to the Lingua Franca system) they are:

1. At the end of Absolute Beginner Revision: you really want to have mastered the verbs être, avoir, aller and faire in the present by then, simply so you can enjoy seeing just how much you can already say based on these crucial verbs. It’s a lot.

2. Intermediate 1: this is where we introduce the imparfait (imperfect tense). While the concept of the imparfait can be tricky, the conjugation is relatively simple. Simple, that is, if you learned the conjugations of the 20 slightly irregular verbs we taught you back in Beginner 1, such as dormir, sortir, mettre, boire, prendre et al. Ringing any bells? The reason' they’re crucial is that in order to find the stem for the imparfait you must go to the ‘nous’ form of the present tense, and if you find yourself guessing at that, put down the ball, slink over the fence and start limbering up.

3. Advanced 2: for a similar reason as above, in order to be able to conjugate the subjunctive tense, you need to know your present tense ‘ils/elles’ conjugations. We find that when students aren’t 100% confident with these, it really does add unnecessary stress to learning this rather abstruse concept.

La morale de cette histoire*? A little bit of effort goes a long way. Do your future self a kindness by committing your current one to learning a verb conjugation a day. Here’s the first one to get you started. It’s one people commonly get wrong when trying to take their first steps in speaking in the imparfait. Je t’en prie*.

BOIRE - to drink

je bois 
tu bois
il/elle/on boit
nous buvons
vous buvez
ils/elles boivent

Therefore, to say ‘I was drinking’, we take the ‘nous’ form of the present tense conjugation, remove the -ons and add the imperfect endings. So, je buvais = I was drinking. Voilà*!

Next month, in an effort to remain at all times contraire*, we’ll look at how every time you turn up to French is a win. Until then, maybe buy a pack of 500 loose leaf A4 sheets and see how much damage you can do. Bon courage*.

*mouth | *Reunion Island | *enjoyable | *laborious | *absolutely nothing | *very patient | *without the ball | *Naturally | *to be sent to the corner | *a little girl | *woman | *sporty | *The moral of the story? | *There you go | *contrary | *Good luck

Fun French expression: Raconter des salades

From chanter en yaourt*  to tomber dans les pommes*, the French language is awash with whimsical phrases. And, if you’re finding your chat a bit lacking, here’s another fun one to spice up your next conversation: raconter des salades*.  

Directly translated as ‘to tell salads’, this expression dating back to the 19th Century means to spin yarns, tell tall tales or, simply, mentir*.

Pourquoi des salades*? Because they’re made with a mix of colourful ingredients. And, if you racontes des salades*, so is your story. Cute, non*?

PS. Here are a few more handy expressions to have up your sleeve if you think someone is pulling your leg.

Tu racontes des bobards – you’re fibbing
Elle raconte des bêtises – she’s talking nonsense
Il raconte des conneries – he’s bullshitting
Tu racontes des craques – you’re lying

*fake singing/ fudging song lyrics | *fainting | *to spin yarns | *to lie | *Why salads? | *no

The problem with baguettes...

Ever find yourself stalling at la boulangerie* due to a mental blank over the gender of certain baked items? Well, here’s a simple workaround we love when it comes to ordering baguettes. Bon Appétit!

*the bakery | *Enjoy your meal!

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A post shared by paris davis ~ slow travel | freedom lifestyle (@____viaparis)

Go high or simplify

You probably know that English and French share many of the same words. There’s a very good reason for that, and if you’re at all interested in history, you may enjoy this article about the influence of French on the English language during the Norman Invasion in the time of Guillaume le Conquérant*.

To paraphrase, when William the Conqueror invaded England, he brought with him the French Norman language which was spoken at court. The masses, by contrast, continued to speak English. For this reason, words used by farmers, such as cow, pig and deer remained English, whereas when the flesh of those animals was prepared to be eaten at the lavish banquets of the court, the words ‘boeuf’ (beef), ‘porc’ (pork) and ‘venaison’ (venison) were used instead. Though the Normans sont partis* 300 years later, traces of the French language of course remained.

La bonne nouvelle* is that we can use this little history lesson to our advantage when speaking French.

If you find yourself stuck on a word, say for example ‘money’, try elevating your thinking to that of a king. Would he waste his time talking about grubby money? No, he’d be talking finance* of course.

Or perhaps you want to describe something that is ‘over the top’. Rather than search your brain for those three words, which are unlikely to translate directly as the phrase is somewhat idiomatic, try for a more formal way to explain the same sentiment. Extravagant is a word shared by both French and English, so apply your best French accent to it and you’re away! The fact that up to 45% of French and English words are the same or similar means it’s definitely worth a try. And the more soutenu* the word, the more likely you’ll be to pull it off.

As an example, in a recent class, one of our students, Tracey, was searching for the word ‘weather report’. She looked at me quizzically for help and I told to her to ‘go high’, hoping she’d choose the word meteorology (la météo is used in French for the weather bulletin). Instead, and almost as a joke, she said ‘la prédiction’? and guess what? She was right.

Conversely, if ever you’re getting yourself tied up in knots about how to say a word in French, try to bring yourself back to basics. Imagine the vocabulary of a young child. Do they know the word ‘novel’? Probablement pas*, but they do know the word ‘book’ and I bet you do, too, in French. 

Perhaps you want to talk about a politician addressing the nation. Could you instead say she was speaking to them? I know it can be uncomfortable to express yourself in such a rudimentary (simple?) way, but rather get your message across than stop, stumble and then give up. As I’ve said before, the aim of the game is to keep the conversation flowing.

So, if you find yourself stuck, remember, go high or simplify. It’s a skill that takes practice, but I promise you, your efforts will be well-rewarded.


*William the Conqueror | *left | *The good news | *finance | *formal/high level | *Probably not

La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, the first chapter of the Intermediate Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“C’est officiel. J’adore Londres !” Hervé a dit, en regardant autour de lui.

“Moi aussi,” Amina a répondu, en buvant son verre de vin blanc. Nous étions assis sur la terrasse d’un petit pub rue Neal avec les enfants. Il faisait beau, il y avait beaucoup de personnes dans les rues du quartier et l’ambience était fantastique.

“C’est tellement agréable d’être ici de nouveau” a continué Amina. “J’ai de très bons souvenirs de cette ville.”

“Et toi, Leïla, tu as passé une bonne journée ?” a demandé mon frère.

“Pardon ?” ai-je dit.

“Ça va, Leïla ? Tu as l’air distrait” a dit Amina, ma belle sœur. “Ou peut-être tu es fatiguée finalement ? Nous avons fait la sieste, mais pas toi. Tu veux rentrer ? On peut manger à l’hôtel si tu veux.”

“Non, c’est gentil, Amina, mais tout va bien. Alors, qu’est-ce qu’on va manger ?” ai-je demandé pour changer le sujet.

“Je peux avoir le poisson et les frites, maman ?” a demandé Anouk.

“Oui, bien sûr, ma chérie… si tu peux le dire en anglais.”

“Je voudrais….ze…feesh and ships, s’il te plaît.”

“Très bien, ma chérie. Je suis fière de toi. Peut-être qu’un jour tu feras un échange ici en Angleterre, comme ta tatie Amina.”

“Les autres enfants te manquent, Leïla ?” a demandé Amina.

“Oui, bien sûr. Elles me manquent beaucoup.”

“Tu leur as parlé aujourd’hui ?” Hervé a demandé.

“Oui, cet après-midi. Enfin, j’ai appelé pour dire coucou mais elles dormaient,” ai-je expliqué.

“Ah, quel dommage, Leïla,” a répondu Amina. “Jean-Louis va bien ? Il a tout sous contrôle ?”

J’ai regardé la carte avec attention et je n’ai rien dit.

“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?” a demandé Hervé, concerné.

“Ah, ce n’est rien. C’est juste que… ah non, ce n’est pas grave,” ai-je dit, hésitante.

J’ai levé la tête et j’ai vu un regard passer entre Hervé et Amina.

“Quoi ?” ai-je dit. “Pourquoi vous vous regardez comme ça ?”

“On ne se regardait pas, Leïla. De quoi tu parles ? Continue, tu disais quelque chose,” a dit Hervé.

“Ce n’est rien, c’est juste que j’avais l’impression que Jean-Louis ne voulait pas trop me parler,” ai-je admis. J’avais trop peur de leur réaction en disant que j’ai cru entendre la voix d’une femme inconnue quand j’ai appelé.

Hervé et Amina se sont regardés une deuxième fois.

“Et voilà ! Vous venez de vous regarder encore ! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?” Je devenais un peu agitée.

Amina a rougi, et elle s’est tournée vers les enfants. “Alors qu’est-ce qu’on va manger, les filles ?”

Hervé n’a rien dit.

“Et, alors ?” J’ai regardé Hervé. Tu veux dire quelque chose ? Dis-le, Hervé ! J’ai vu le regard entre vous deux. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ? Dis-moi !”

“Excusez-moi,” a dit Amina timidement. “Je vais aux toilettes avec les enfants avant que nous mangions.”

“Très bien,” a dit Hervé, et Amina s’est levée et s’est dépêchée d’aller vers les toilettes avec les filles.

“Bon, elle est partie. Dis-moi tout, Hervé.”

“It’s official. I love London!” Hervé said, looking around him.

“Me too,” Amina responded, drinking her glass of white wine. We were seated on the terrace of a pub on Neal Street with the kids. It was nice weather, there were lots of people in the streets of the area and the atmosphere was fantastic. “It’s so nice to be back here again,” continued Amina. “I have very good memories of this city.”

“And you, Leïla, did you have a good day?” asked my brother.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Are you okay, Leïla? You seem distracted,” said Amina, my sister-in-law. “Or maybe you’re tired finally? We had a nap, but not you. Do you want to go back? We can eat at the hotel if you want.”

“No, that’s kind, Amina, but everything’s fine. So, what are we going to eat?” I asked in order to change the subject.

“Can I have the fish and chips, Mum?” asked Anouk.

“Yes, of course, my darling…if you can say it in English.”

“I would like….ze…feesh and ships, please.”

“Very good, my darling. I am proud of you. Maybe one day you’ll do an exchange here in England like your Aunty Amina.”

“Are you missing the other children, Leïla?” asked Amina.

“Yes, of course, I’m missing them a lot.”

“Did you speak to them today?” Hervé asked.

“Yes, this afternoon. Well, I called to say hi but they were sleeping,” I explained.

“Oh, what a shame, Leïla,” responded Amina. “Is Jean-Louis going well? Does he have everything under control?”

I looked at the menu attentively and didn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hervé, concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that…oh no, it’s not serious,” I said, hesitantly.

I lifted my head and saw a look pass between Hervé and Amina.

“What?” I said. “Why are you looking at each other like that?”

“We weren’t looking at each other, Leïla. What are you talking about? Continue, you were saying something,” Hervé said.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that I had the impression that he didn’t want to talk to me too much,” I admitted. I was too scared of their reaction to say that I thought I heard an unknown woman’s voice when I called.

Hervé and Amina looked at each other a second time.

“And there you go! You’ve just looked at each other again! What is it?” I was becoming a bit agitated.

Amina blushed and she turned towards the children. “So, what are we going to eat, girls?”

Hervé didn’t say anything.

“And, so?” I looked at Hervé. “Do you want to say something? Say it, Hervé! I saw the look between you two. What’s up? Tell me!”

“Excuse me,” said Amina timidly. “I’m going to the toilets with the girls before we eat.”

“Very well”, said Hervé, and Anna got up and hurried towards the toilets with the girls.

“Right, she’s gone. Tell me everything, Hervé.”

What is this thing?

When the complexities of another language confound you, sometimes you just have to laugh. Case in point the long-winded enquiry, “Qu'est-ce que c'est que cette chose-là?” Literally translated as “What is this that this is that this thing there?”. Or, in actual usage, “What is that/this thing?”

It seems even the French can see the humour in this unwieldy sentence. So, if you’re un apprenant*? Best not to overthink it and, instead, commit the phrase to memory. 

Or in conversation, you could always go for le plus concis*, “C’est quoi, ça?” We’ll leave it in your capable hands (and limber lips). 

*a learner | *the more concise

English makes no sense

When learning a language, you just have to shrug and accept there will be some things that make no sense at all. And, if you need un gloussement*, this video perfectly illustrates the hurdles English learners face. Quel cauchemar*!

*a giggle | *a nightmare

The Art of Being a Flâneur

When dans une nouvelle ville*, do you race around with a jam-packed schedule of galleries, monuments and restaurants to get to? Or are you more of a “let’s see where this street takes me” wanderer?

New York Times writer Victoria Tentler-Krylov is a firm proponent of the second approach. In The Art of Being a Flâneur, she writes: “To walk a city led by your senses rather than a destination is to awaken to the city and, possibly, to yourself. It’s an opportunity to expand your capacity for wonder, to discover and delight in things you might have missed had you been aiming to get somewhere.”

If you have five minutes or so, this article is a lovely exploration Baudelaire’s “passionate spectator” and the French art of flânerie, or idle strolling. Enjoy!

*in a new city

SWOON: Saint-Émilion

Characterised by steep, winding cobblestone streets, Romanesque churches and ancient ruins, Saint-Émilion is un charmant* Medieval village in le cœur* of the Bordeaux wine region. A must-visit for oenophiles and history buffs, the UNESCO World Heritage site takes its name from a hermetic Breton monk, Émilion, who arrived in the 8th century and was known for performing miracles.

Home to Europe’s largest monolithic church, Saint-Émilion may no longer be a place of miracles. But, as you can see, it’s still quite magical. 

*a charming | *the heart

Pictures : whatoliviadid.com

Pardon My French

If you’re looking for un livre* to tuck into this winter, we have une suggestion*. A new memoir by freelance writer and mum-of-three Rachael Mogan McIntosh, Pardon My French tells the story of an Aussie family upping sticks to spend a year in cobblestoned Sommières – a small town in the south of France.

C’est une idée tentante, non*?

The book is touted as a tale of, “Food, faux pas and Franglish – one family’s riotous year in the south of France.” And we’ve been told by a student who’s midway through that it’s a delightful, funny and easy read. (As long as you don’t mind your books peppered with blue language.)

Intrigued? Here’s the publisher’s blurb.

At the school gate, when she accidentally kissed one new friend on the nose and called another a ‘beautiful man-horse’, Rachael realised that small-town France could hardly be more different to beach-side Australia. The smell of cigarettes replaced the tang of bone-broth and sprouted sourdough, the neighbours sometimes came to blows and under no circumstances would anyone wear activewear in public. Ever.

Muddling through every interaction in terrible French pushed Rachael’s family to their limits. Some days, everybody cried and ate their feelings with almond croissants. But the town of Sommières embraced these ragtag Australians, and the family fell in love with their temporary hometown and its outrageous gossip, cobblestoned beauty and kind, eccentric inhabitants.

Pardon My French is a candid, hilarious love letter to family life and France with three valuable lessons for overcoming adversity: make home a beautiful nest, lean into the tough lessons and look for the comedy in everything.

You can buy the book on Booktopia. Or read this article written by Rachael.

*a book | *a suggestion | *It’s a tempting idea, isn’t it?

La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, the final chapter of the Intermediate 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

En entrant dans la librairie, j’ai eu le souffle coupé.

“Je crois que je suis au paradis !” je me suis dit. J’ai levé la tête pour voir les cinq étages, totalement bordés de livres de toute sorte.

Tout de suite, un jeune homme s’est approché de moi. “Hello, madam, can I help you at all?”

“Bonjour, euh, pardon…Hello,” j’ai dit en rougissant.

“Vous êtes française, madame ?”

“Oui,” j’ai dit. “Vous aussi ?”

“Non, je suis anglais, mais je parle français aussi,” il a répondu en souriant. “Vous préférez parler en anglais ou en français ?”

Je voulais pratiquer mon anglais (c’était la raison principale pour mon voyage, après tout), mais je me sentais un peu timide, je dois admettre. “French?” j’ai répondu et il a rigolé.

“Oui, bien sûr, madame. Avec grand plaisir.”

“Ah merci, c’est gentil. C’est mon premier jour ici à Londres, et c’est difficile pour moi de trouver les mots en anglais en ce moment.”

“Je comprends totalement, madame. Quand j’ai étudié le français à l’université, nous avons fait un échange en France et je me rappelle très bien de mon premier jour. J’ai eu peur d’ouvrir ma bouche !”

“Mais vous parlez tellement bien français, c’est difficile à croire,” j’ai dit.

“Vous me flattez, madame,” il a dit et j’ai rougi de nouveau.

Pour changer de sujet, je lui ai dit: “Cette librairie est extraordinaire. Cinq étages de livres en anglais, c’est mon rêve !”

“Oui, moi, je l’adore aussi, mais si vous aimez la langue anglaise, vous devez visiter The Bodleian Library à Oxford. C’est magnifique. Il y a plus d’un million de livres.”

“Oh là, là !” je me suis exclamée.

“Oh là, là !” il m’a taquiné, “You really are French ! Si je peux me permettre, comment vous appelez-vous ?” il m’a demandé.

“My name is Leïla,” j’ai dit lentement.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, Leïla. Je m’appelle Will. À votre service.”

“Enchantée, Will, mais je regarde seulement.”

“C’est dommage,” il a dit et pour la troisième fois depuis cinq minutes, j’ai rougi.

“Je dois…I have to go now,” j’ai dit et je me suis dépêchée vers la porte.

“N’oubliez pas The Bodleian, Leïla !” il a crié “Et profitez de votre temps ici en Angleterre !”

“Oh là, là !” je me suis exclamée de nouveau en fermant la porte. “Ces hommes anglais !”

Je ne savais pas exactement pourquoi, mais tout d’un coup j’avais envie de parler à mes filles.

Il y avait une cabine téléphonique rouge juste à côté de la bibliothèque. J’ai appelé l’hôtel de Jean-Louis, mais le réceptionniste m’a dit qu’il n’était pas là. J’ai décidé d’appeler la maison et j’étais surprise quand il a répondu tout de suite.

“Chéri, c’est moi. Pourquoi tu n’es pas au travail ? Où sont les filles ? Elles sont avec toi ?”

“Ma belle, comment vas-tu? Tout va bien à Londres?” Jean-Louis a demandé. Il avait l’air un peu stressé.

“Oui, super, merci. Mais tout vas bien? Où sont les filles ? Elles sont avec ta mère?”

“Ne t’inquiète pas, Leïla, elles sont ici, avec moi. Nous sommes rentrés pour récupérer plus de vêtements.”

“Oh, elles sont là ? Je peux leur dire coucou ? Elles me manquent tellement.”

“Euh….non, désolée, ma belle, elles dorment.” Jean-Louis avait l’air distrait.

“Elles dorment ? À cinq heures de l’après-midi ?”

Et là, j’ai entendu la voix d’une femme, et ce n’était pas ma belle-mère. 

Upon entering the bookstore, I caught my breath.

“I think I’m in heaven!” I said to myself. I lifted my head to look at the five levels, totally lined with books of all sorts.

Straight away, a young man came up to me. “Hello, madam, can I help you at all?”

“Bonjour, um, sorry…Hello,” I said, blushing.

“Are you French, madam?”

“Yes,” I said. “You too?”

“No, I’m English, but I speak French as well,” he replied, smiling. “Do you prefer to speak in English or in French?”

I wanted to practise my English (it was the main reason for my trip, after all), but I felt a bit shy, I have to admit. “French?” I answered and he laughed.

“Yes, of course, madam. With much pleasure.”

“Oh thank you, that’s kind. It’s my first day here in London, and it’s difficult for me to find the words in English at the moment.”

“I understand totally, madam. When I studied French at university, we did an exchange and I remember very well my first day. I was scared to open my mouth!”

“But you speak French so well, it’s difficult to believe,” I said.

“You flatter me, madam,” he said and I blushed again.

To change the subject, I said to him: “This bookstore is extraordinary. Five levels of books in English, it’s my dream!”

“Yes, I love it, too, but if you like the English language, you must visit the Bodleian Library in Oxford. It’s magnificent. There are more than a million books.”

“Oh là, là !” I exclaimed.

“Oh là, là !” he teased me. “You really are French. If I may allow myself, what is your name?” he asked me.

“My name is Leïla,” I said slowly.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, Leïla. My name is Will. At your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Will, but I’m only looking.”

“That’s a shame,” he said and for the third time in five minutes, I blushed.

“Je dois…I have to go now,” I said and I hurried towards the door.

“Don’t forget The Bodleian, Leïla!” he cried, “and make the most of your time here in England!”

“Oh là, là !” I exclaimed to myself again as I closed the door. “These English men!”

I didn’t know exactly why, but all of a sudden I felt like talking to my girls.

There was a red phone box just next to the bookstore.I called Jean-Louis’ hotel but the receptionist told me he wasn’t there. I decided to call the house and I was surprised when he responded straight away.

“Darling, it’s me. Why aren’t you at work? Where are the girls? Are they with you?”

“My beauty, how are you? Is everything going well in London?” Jean-Louis asked. He seemed a bit stressed.

“Yes, great, thanks. But is everything okay? Where are the girls? Are they with your mother?”

“Don’t worry Leïla, they’re here, with me. We came back to pick up some more clothes.”

“Oh, they’re there? Can I say a quick hi? I miss them so much.”

“Um…no, sorry, my beauty, they’re sleeping.” Jean-Louis seemed distracted.

“They’re sleeping? At five o’clock in the afternoon?”

“And then, I heard a woman’s voice, and it wasn’t my mother-in-law’s.

Le Festival is Back!

After a three-year break, Brisbane’s beloved festival of French culture, food, entertainment and, bien sûr*, vin* est de retour*. That’s right – Le Festival is back! And by all reports, it promises to be bigger and better than ever.

This year, the weekend of French frivolity will take place on 21-23 July in a new location at Victoria Park (Barrambin). And while we’re taking une petite pause* from exhibiting, you’ll be sure to spot us browsing the wares at the French market and chatting with our francophone pals.  

What’s on la carte* for Le Festival 2023? The official program is yet to be released, but you’ll be able to shop the best of French homewares and lifestyle products and sample delicious crêpes and cuisine at the French Market and Artists & Artisans’ tent, enjoy live entertainment on the Main Stage and catch up with vos amis* over du Champagne*.

Sound good?

Best bag(uette) yourself a discount by purchasing tickets en avance*. Early Bird tickets are $12, or you’ll pay 15 at the gate. Under 12s are free. Secure your spot here.  

You can also keep track of all Festival-related updates on Instagram and Facebook. See you there!

*of course | *wine | *is back | *a small break | *the menu | *your friends | *some champagne | *in advance/ early

My Paris Adventure (Part 3 – La Fin)

So, two months have passed and our intrepid traveller Pip est rentrée* from her French sojourn. We touched base briefly to see how she’s recovering, any lessons learned and her top tips for any chouchous* planning a long stay in Paris.

YOU’RE BACK! THAT WENT QUICKLY…

Way too quickly! I arrived back a few days ago and am battling with jetlag and Paris withdrawals. I can’t believe that after all the planning and buildup it’s over. At the start, two months seemed quite daunting, but I definitely wasn’t ready to come home. I’d just found my groove at the end and my apartment and quartier* really felt like home.

SO, YOU LOVED IT?

Presque* every minute.

WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE ANYONE PLANNING A SIMILAR TRIP?

Firstly (and most importantly), make finding a decent coffee spot a priority. Otherwise you’ll end up paying $8-9 for a weak, milky cup of sludge each morning. My pick if you’re near Le Marais is the boutique Japanese chain, The Coffee. They take their brew seriously and it shows.

For easy-peasy travel, make sure you download Citymapper. This app provides amazingly clear instructions for getting from A to B, including which section of the train you should be on to land at the right exit. A total life safer for someone as directionally challenged as me! 

When people say it gets hot in summer, believe them. As a Brisbanite, I laughed off this warning. But by the end of my stay, it was STINKING hot. And the city is just not built for it.

Don’t pack exercise gear. Seriously. You’ll be doing so much walking each day that you won’t dust off your actual runners and Lululemons at all. And unless you’re staying in a hotel and plan on catching Ubers to dinner, leave les talons* at home.

Also, beware the cyclists! Trying to cross the road takes some getting used to as you need to check the bike lane as well as the traffic lights. And the cyclists tend to be un peu fou*.

WHAT ABOUT TIPS FOR LEARNING THE LANGUAGE?

It depends on your goals. For me, it was more about enjoying a change of scene and soaking up the culture and picking some more French up along the way. I had work to juggle so I wasn’t going to spend my free time studying when there was Paris at my doorstep to explore!

I highly recommend doing an immersion course (I went to Langue Appart for 4 weeks). But I think if want to learn a lot in a short time frame, there are better ways – and places – to go about it. It’s difficult to do a true immersion in Paris with so many tourists and everyone automatically switching to English when you speak.

In the future, I’d be interested to explore other options. Like a homestay in a quieter city or the countryside. Somewhere with fewer shiny distractions. And I’d also book private lessons.

Another thing… I had an Aussie friend stay with me for two weeks and that, while one of the highlights of my stay, put my French back a lot. So, if you’re serious about improving, dit non* to any English-speaking visitors.

ANY OTHER TIPS FOR THINGS TO SEE, DO, EAT?

I won’t list all my favourite spots in Paris as it would take all day (and I’ll get too nostalgic/ hungry). But I would recommend you book most of your activities well in advance as they book out.  

Look at Discover Walks, too. They operate free, tip-supported tours in different parts of Paris and the guides are great. The one I did in Montmartre was exceptional.

Finally, try to factor in some free time. With so much to do and see, it’s tempting to schedule every minute. But my favourite moments were often unplanned – discovering hidden parks and pop-up shops, enjoying an impromptu spritz in the gorgeous courtyard at Le Musée Carnavalet or strolling aimlessly around town for White Night and La Fête de la Musique. Being une flâneuse* in Paris is one life's great joys. 

*has returned | *teacher’s pets | *neighbourhood | *nearly | *high heels | *a bit mad | *say no | *urban spectator who walks around not doing anything in particular but watching people and society

Beyond Paris

As the world’s most visited city, Paris is undeniably magical. Toutefois*, it’s not the only ville* in France worth the plane fare (or TGV trip). From indulging in Michelin-starred gastronomy in Lyon to hiking in Corsica or catching rays on the Cote d’Azur, this article provides plenty of inspo for your next visit à l’étranger*.

*However | *city | *overseas

Walk before you can run

Last month, I started down my Top 5 list of tips for speaking French. I hope you’ve been practising recently and have started to see les fruits de tes efforts*. Don’t be discouraged if you feel you’ve not made great strides. As tutors we know it’s sometimes difficult for students to see their progress, but if you’ve made any attempts at all, you’re more experienced and almost certainly better than you were before you did so. Allez*! Let’s get onto Top Tip #2.

Boring, je sais*, especially when you’re dying to speak French fluently. I mentioned in a previous post to think about slowing down your speech, as if communicating an important message to a four-year-old (do…not…put…the mobile phone…in….the toilet), but I feel it’s worth a bit of elaboration again this month.

It’s important not to run before you can walk and one way you can do this is to consciously slow down your speech, or rather, as this is more often the problem, your thoughts.

We’re so used to thinking and speaking at lightning speed in our own language that sometimes we try to do the same in French. You’ve put in so much time to learn your vocabulary, conjugate your verbs, remember the difference between au, du, de la, aux (or is it en, or dans - oh mon dieu*!) that by the time you come to speak, your head is an electric field, firing shots all over the place with the result that when it comes time to open your bouche*, your brain has seized up and you just draw a big, fat blank. Please let me assure you this is incredibly common and absolutely normal. However, if you launch into speaking in that frame of mind, ça va mal finir*. 

If you don’t make a conscious effort to slow down your racing mind and therefore your speech, instead of inching slowly towards the rabbit hole we all know so well, you race right into it and then can’t get out. Remember, le but* is to keep the conversation going. What usually happens by going too fast out of the gates is we strike a word we have no idea how to say very early on. We, as tutors, see it all the time. The student’s brow furrows first, then eye contact is lost because we tend to look up and to the left when we’re trying to remember something. This is followed by an awkward pause and almost guaranteed, our valiant Chouchou* will break into English with “Ugh, how do you say XYZ in French?” and the momentum is lost. Worse (and I know I’ve been guilty of this), the student reaches for their phone or dictionary, picks up their pencil and enters their own little world as they look for the word they think will get them out of their dilemma. In my experience, even I do find it, the person to whom I’m speaking has lost interest by that point and it’s very hard to pick up the thread of the conversation from there. Better to creep toward that potential rabbit hole and give yourself a chance to step around it.

Remember, calmez-vous*, slow it down, lentement mais sûrement is the path to good conversation.

Next month, Top Tip #3 gives you the choice: go high or simplify. Bonne continuation et bon courage!*.

*the fruits of your labour | *Come on | *I know | *oh my god | *mouth | *it’s not going to go well | *the goal | *Teacher’s Pet | *Calm down | *slowly but surely | *Hope it all keeps going well | *Good luck.

The 15 Hardest French Words to Pronounce

Learning grammar and memorising vocab are tough. But for many of our chouchous*, the biggest challenge of all is mastering French pronunciation.

It’s a problem shared by language learners and this article, ’The 15 Hardest French Words to Pronounce (with English Translations)’, will make you feel seen. If not entirely heard.

This list is by no means definitive, but ne vous inquiétez pas*. Our teachers are busy compiling une liste* of the words Lingua Franca students find the trickiest, plus some essential tips to help you parlez* like pros. Stay tuned.

*teacher’s pets | *don’t worry | *a list | *speak

Fancy a home in Provence?

If you’ve been dreaming of buying or renting a bolthole en France*, today might just be your lucky day. A former Lingua Franca couple is looking to sell their share in a lovely holiday home in Provence!

Regarde* the description and images below and on the AirBnB listing here  – the property is also available à louer*. C’est un rêve, non*?

Home in Provence

Ever dreamed of a home-away-from-home in France? Our lovely terrace house in the Vaucluse Department of Provence is available for rent! It has two bedrooms (2 queen beds and one single) so can easily accommodate a family of five for a delightful sojourn.

Our house is situated in an historic town in the lands around Avignon once owned by the Popes when they moved out of Rome and lived for most of the 14th century in Avignon. It has a medieval wall around the town, and our house is built into the wall, next to the “new gate: Le Portail Neuf”. From the top-floor balcony, there are views of Mont Ventoux, often featured in the Tour-de-France.

The town is Beaumes-de-Venise, famous for its muscat wine (often found on the dessert-wine list of Australia’s best restaurants). This lovely little town is central to a beautiful area of Provence dotted with numerous small towns with markets and many historic attractions accessible for delightful daytrips.

À louer
The house can be rented either on AirBnB for $160 AUD per night, or through the owners, Jane & Tony, long-time Lingua Franca students, for only 120 euros per week.

À vendre
The house is wholly owned by 12 Australians through an Australian company, and we own two of those twelve shares. The house is valued at approximately 240,000 euros ($AUD360,000). We have found we don’t fully utilise our two shares, so if anyone is interested in purchasing one of the shares, please contact Jane to discuss on mob: 0414 842 199 or email: aocbdv53@gmail.com

*en France | *look | *to rent | *It’s a dream, isn’t it?

La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, Chapter 5 of the Intermediate 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Veuillez attacher votre ceinture, s’il vous plaît, Madame. Nous allons atterrir à Heathrow bientôt.” L’hôtesse de l’air a souri gentiment et a continué le long du couloir en faisant ses contrôles de sécurité.

J’ai regardé Anouk qui avait les yeux fixés sur les nuages vers l’extérieur de l’hublot.

“Maman, on va pouvoir voir la maison de la Reine d’ici ?” elle m’a demandé. Elle avait l’air sérieuse.

“C’est un peu plus grand qu’une maison, chérie,” je lui ai dit “mais on ne sait jamais. En fait, demain on va voir sa maison de plus près quand Tatie Amina nous montrera les sites touristiques de Londres.”

“Ah,” elle a dit, ses yeux grands ouverts. “J’espère qu’on la voit.”

“On verra, ma petite,” je l’ai rassurée en prenant sa main pour l’atterrissage.

Trois heures plus tard on est arrivés à notre l’hôtel, près de la station de métro Gloucester Road. J’étais absolument ravie d’être à Londres pour la première fois. Tout me semblait tellement charmant, même si c’était une des plus grandes villes du monde. “Paris est sublime,” je me suis dit, “mais cette ville a un vrai caractère. Je l’adore déjà.”

Nous nous sommes installés dans nos chambres d’hôtel respectives et le plan était de se reposer un peu avant d’aller dîner à Covent Garden. Il était 14h30. Anouk avait l’air très fatigué, la pauvre. Moi, par contre, j’étais très impatiente de sortir de l’hôtel pour pouvoir découvrir le quartier. J’ai demandé à Amina et Hervé de garder Anouk pour une heure ou deux et heureusement ils étaient d’accord. J’ai pris la clef de ma chambre et je suis allée parler avec le concierge pour lui demander les directions jusqu’au métro, ou The Underground, comme disent les Anglais.

Après un peu de confusion à propos de la prononciation du nom “Gloucester” (je ne comprendrai jamais les règles de prononciation de l’anglais !) j’ai quitté l’hôtel avec un plan du quartier, un grand sourire et une forte envie de me plonger dans cette ville fascinante.

Je ne pouvais pas en croire mes yeux quand j’ai vu mon premier autobus à impériale rouge en vraie. J’avais le sens du déjà-vu comme il y avait souvent des photos de ces bus iconiques dans les pages de nos textes d’anglais.

Une heure plus tard, je me promenais toujours. Loin de mes responsabilités, je me sentais plus légère et j’avais l’impression d’être libre. Dans une sorte de rêverie, je me suis perdue un peu alors quand j’ai vu une librairie absolument charmante, j’ai décidé d’y entrer pour demander mon chemin. Je ne le savais pas à l’époque mais cette décision aller changer ma vie. 

“Could you attach your seatbelt, please, madam. We are going to land at Heathrow soon.” The air hostess smiled kindly and continued along the aisle doing her security checks.

I looked at Anouk, who was staring at the clouds through the window.

“Mum, are we going to be able to see the Queen’s house from here?” she asked me. She seemed serious.

“It’s a bit bigger than a house, darling,” I said to her “but we never know. In fact, tomorrow we’re going to see her house from closer up when Aunty Amina shows us the tourist sights of London.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes round. “I hope we see her.”

“We’ll see, little one,” I reassured her taking her hand for the landing.

Three hours later we arrived at our hotel, close to the tube station Gloucester Road.

I was absolutely delighted to be in London for the first time. Everything seemed so charming to me, even if it was one of the biggest cities in the world. “Paris is sublime,” I said to myself, “but this city has real personality. I love it already.”

We settled into our respective hotel rooms and the plan was to have a bit of a rest before going to dinner in Covent Garden. It was 2:30pm. Anouk seemed very tired, the poor thing. I, on the other hand, was impatient to leave the hotel to explore the area. I asked Amina and Hervé to look after Anouk for an hour or two and luckily they agreed. I took my room key and I went to talk to the concierge to ask him directions to the tube station, or ‘The Underground”, as the English say.

After a bit of confusion about the pronunciation of the word “Gloucester” (I will never understand the rules of English pronunciation!) I left the hotel with a map of the area, a big smile and a strong desire dive into this fascinating city.

I could not believe my eyes when I saw my first red double-decker bus in real life. I had a feeling of déjà vu as there were often photos of these iconic buses in our English textbooks.

An hour later, I was still walking. Far from my responsibilities, I feel lighter and I felt like I was free. In a sort of dream-like state, I got a little lost so when I saw an absolutely charming bookshop, I decided to go in to ask for directions. I didn’t know it at the time, but this decision would change my life. 

My Paris Adventure (Part 2)

Last month we heard from one of our students, Pip, who was about to depart on a two-month adventure in Paris. Well, it’s been presque cinq semaines*, so we thought it was high time we check in to see what she’s been up to!

SO… HOW’S EVERYTHING BEEN GOING?

Très bien*! It has absolutely flown by, and I can’t believe I only have a few weeks left. There’s still so much on my (ever-growing) to-do list! The first month was wonderful but a bit intense as I was working remotely and was also doing daily immersion classes. So I was cramming in most of my sightseeing on the weekends.

I’ve just finished my French lessons now and am feeling much more relaxed. My best friend arrives this week and I finally have some time off work, so that will be lots of fun.

I’m loving Paris and am very happy with the bobo* area I am in (Voltaire, in the 11th) as it’s central and a short stroll to Place des Vosges. Paris’s oldest (and prettiest) square is one of my absolute favourite spots for lounging with a coffee and croissant. Or une glace* now it’s so warm.

ANY HIGHLIGHTS SO FAR?

So many. Every successful interaction en français*; watching the light projections at le Square du Vert-Galant for Nuit Blanche*; seeing a classical concert at La Sainte-Chapelle with the sun streaming in through the famous stained glass windows (a must); perusing le Musée Picasso – the current exhibition with art direction by Paul Smith is incredible, but just as amazing is the 17th-century private mansion it’s housed in – divine.

Also, my first pain au chocolat; visiting Versailles and the equally impressive Opéra Garnier; strolling Canal St Martin; thumbing through books at the legendary Shakespeare and Company bookstore; dinner in the most stunning garden at l’Hôtel Particulier in Montmartre. The service was questionable, but the location is so breathtakingly beautiful it was worth the 90-odd minute wait for our entrées.

I also loved the tranquil garden (and mint green tiles) at the Grand Mosquée. An unexpected side of Paris and well worth a visit.

There have been times when I’ve been moved to tears by the sheer beauty (and Frenchness) of it all. I still grin from ear to ear whenever I see La Tour Eiffel. Seeing this accordion player and his cat in Montmartre today was more than I could take. And I’ve also met some lovely people along the way.

AND LOWLIGHTS?

That’s not to say it’s been easy. It hasn’t. There were a few issues with my Airbnb when I arrived (terrible bed, for starters), but I am lucky to have a great property manager who dealt with my list of complaints promptly. The neighbours tend to have parties at unpredictable times (say 2am on a Monday). Juggling work and school has been exhausting, I’ve been sick and I’ve had a lot of FOMO.  

Mon chat me manque beaucoup*. But, in a strange twist of fate, there’s a cat café on my street (yes, I did go once after a bad day. The food was hideous, but I made a friend who lives in London).

I also had un incident malheureux* involving a very long, stressful and rainy day, a traditional Jewish fallafel sandwich from the iconic L'As du Fallafel in Le Marais and a day-old Sézane trench coat. One trip au pressing*, $60 and a two-week wait later, I got my coat back just as summer finally arrived.

HAS ANYTHING SURPRISED YOU?

The lack of screw-top wine bottles anywhere. That the French seemingly have a thing for escape rooms (there’s a surprising number in my quartier). That you’ll have to queue not just for museums but to go into stores like Polène and Sézane.

Also, Parisians are nothing like the aloof stereotype we’re familiar with. 90% of my interactions have been positive and, as long as you’re polite, decisive (they don’t like dilly-dallying) and try to speak French, they’re quite chaleureux* and helpful.  

YOU ENROLLED IN AN IMMERSION OVER THERE. HOW WAS THAT?

It was chouette*. I went to Langue Appart in Oberkampf (11th) – a 10-minute walk from my apartment. I would definitely recommend it, it’s a great little school. The teachers are excellent (they all have a different teaching style from what I’ve heard), and all the staff welcome you by name. The materials are very comprehensive, it’s all conducted in French and the lessons are a mix of grammar (argh), videos, games and lots of speaking practice and practical exercises.

There are also a few social activities: drinks; an excursion – we learned all about La Commune and the history of the artsy 20th arrondissement and Père-Lachaise; and an international ‘picnic’ held indoors (I went to three stores only to be forced to make Anzac biscuits with honey instead of golden syrup… not the same).

However, you really do need to be motivated. The students come from all over the globe and are predominantly young, well-educated and highly intelligent (lots of med and law students in my batch). If you slack off, you’ll very quickly feel out of your depth.

ARE YOU FEELING MORE CONFIDENT WITH FRENCH?

Hmmm, bonne question*. I think I had an unrealistic expectation of how much I’d learn by osmosis over here. I now realise I would need a good six months of full immersion to be anywhere even close to fluent.

After having done the intensive course, all the tenses are a lot clearer in my head. My reading is better (but that’s always been my strength) and my listening has improved, largely from eavesdropping on people. However, speaking… I still struggle a lot. (Having said that, immediately after writing this the lady at the métro station complimented me on my French and made my day.)

The number of times I’ve walked off only to realise I said something incorrectly in conversation is higher than I’d like to admit. But I’ve been trying and, by and large, the French have been quite supportive – if a little amused at times (especially at the chemist).

When shop assistants realise you’re not French, they’ll sometimes ask if you’d prefer them to speak in English or French. I find this really helpful and always opt for French. However, there are many more who’ll automatically switch to English. In which case I just keep trying to answer in French to get them to revert back :).

HAVE YOU BEEN ENJOYING THE FRENCH CUISINE?

Far too much! I’m particularly partial to galettes. However, the extremely carb-heavy French diet is less than ideal for a type 1 diabetic... I’m also desperate for some spice in my life, so have booked a Mexican restaurant for when I’m in London next week.

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO FOR THE REST OF YOUR STAY?

Ma meilleure amie* arrives soon, and I can’t wait to play tourist (and directionally challenged tour guide). I had another friend here from Sweden for a weekend which was so lovely, but other than that I’ve largely been flying solo. It’s been fine during the day, but I’m looking forward to more nighttime exploring.

I’m also excited to see Paris through a fresh set of eyes now I’m a ‘local’.

*nearly 5 weeks | *Very well! | *short for bourgeois-bohemian (hipster)| *an ice cream | *in French | *White Night | *I miss my cat a lot | *an unfortunate incident | *to the dry cleaners | *warm | *great | *good question | *My best friend