It has been the most beautiful day at the school.  The sun shone all day.  There was warmth while sitting in the garden. In the distance we could see the rolling hills of Provence and the green, lush trees on the terrain.  I’m just sorry this is my last day here in Provence.

It’s my last day!  I made it through all the classes.  I even “passed” the interview with my teacher, Martine, who had scored my comprehension, speaking, and reading.  I think . . . no, I know she fudged the results.  After all, they don’t want me staying for another session.  Time to move on to Paris.

I had a 2 hour lesson with Catherine, one of the instructors, today.  It was strictly conversational, working on passé composé.  She was so patient with me as has been the entire staff.  But, after our lesson I got to thinking about the conversations I’ve had off and on over the last few days.  I was re-tracing in my mind what I must have said to some of the students I met.  I don’t have a large French vocabulary, and I can’t transpose most verbs from present to past tense or future tense.

So, here is how some of the conversations must have sounded if you were hearing them in English:

Hallgrimur: Where are you from?
Me: I’m from Dallas, Texas.
Hallgrimur: When did you arrive at the school?
Me: I have five children
Hallgrimur: Have you been speaking French for long?
Me: I am a housewife.

Robert (an American from Washington, D.C.): Are you returning to the United States after school?
Me: I go to Paris on Saturday.
Robert: What are you doing in Paris?
Me: My husband and I play in Paris in an apartment.
(Puzzled look from Robert . . . )
Me: Excusez-moi. My husband and I rent an apartment in Paris.

Suzan, (a lovely woman from England who struggled as much as I did), in class conversational practice: Good day, Deborah.
Me: Good day, Suzan. How are you?
Suzan: I am well, thank you. The weather is warm.
Me: Yes. Do you have a coat?
(A puzzled look . . . )
Me: Do you have a coat? For your day?
(Total confusion . . . )
Me: Oh, it is hot. I think you say cold. I am sorry.

We have not been allowed to speak English at all.  If the teachers suspect you are speaking English (and there are only a few of us who have attempted this), you get a certain look.  Not a dirty look or scowl.  Just a look that seems to say, “You are speaking English? Why would you want to speak any language but French?”

Tonight at dinner, Bryan and I sat at the end of the table and whispered  short conversations in English.  How refreshing!  We even pulled in our friend, John, who is 78 years old and speaks French with a very Australian accent.  He’s precious–as we say in Texas–and he was more than happy to speak a little English.  When we couldn’t come up with the French word, we just added ‘ique’ (eek) or ‘ie’ at the end of the word.  You know, ‘telephonie’, ‘formulique’, etc.  Seems to work. . . . and tres (trey) works with any word.  Tres funny, tres interesting, tres difficult.   I also noticed that when I was speaking in English I was using a French accent.  Wonder if Bryan and John noticed.

In one of my first blogs, I mentioned that I was struggling to keep up with everyone here. I dawns on me, after remembering my conversations, that I may be the belly dancer! I think I may have propositioned half the men here at the school and maybe even some of the women. I’m sure none of them understood my occupation. It could explain a lot of the guarded looks I’ve seen.

Most of the students are Europeans, and they speak excellent French, in my opinion. The wonderful Brazilian couple speaks fluently. The Canadiens and Brits keep up with every conversation in the room. The Americans are able to understand and reply.  They know about each other better than I have been able to discover. I’ve garnered bits and pieces, but I’ve missed out on a lot. Rather than deter me, it has made me want to speak and understand the language even better.

I leave for Paris tomorrow and two more weeks of French school.   I believe I’ll either go home in two weeks so full of myself that I’ll want to hire out as a translator at the UN, or I’ll have a nervous breakdown and be CareFlighted home, there to be transported straight to Louie’s and remain at the bar until all memory of my experience is gone.

Here’s hoping for the best.

A bientôt!