BOULANGERIE LEARNING

Parisians are used to hearing British English in and around their city. After all, Great Britain is just a short 2-1/2 hour Eurostar trip across the English Channel. American English abounds in Paris as well. For reasons I can’t understand, some Americans walk about the city believing the world revolves around them. You can hear it in the things they say. I eavesdropped an American conversation and overheard one of the parties exclaim – in disbelief, “can you believe it, the clerk didn’t speak a word of English!” I was left wondering how much French they attempted to speak.

It was in junior high school that I first discovered the beauty of the French language. I found that when you close your eyes and listen, you can feel the words pushing through your throat and mouth before exiting from somewhere on the surface of the tongue and lips. Style and grace give the language its distinctive rhythm when delivered properly. I’ve tried but I just can’t seem to get it right – at least not on a consistent basis. And when I do get it right, strangers give me that Mona Lisa look, you know, somewhere between a smirk and smile.

A few years ago, I discovered that daily trips to the boulangerie served a purpose that went far beyond waistline adjustments. I guess one might describe my experience as being French-dipped. Something was bound to stick. Maybe I would pick-up some everyday French. I never imagined the bakery as a place for improving my language skills, but there I was. Standing in front of the clerk, rehearsing my order, I took one last breath before announcing, “Je vais avoir une baguette et deux tortes au chocolat, s'il vous plait” (I’ll have one baguette and two chocolate tortes, please). After glancing over both of my shoulders, I breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering there were no Mona Lisa smiles or smirks behind my back.

I then realized that I may have served as daily entertainment for the staff, who watched as I rehearsed. But there was one clerk who always seemed to mouth my order as I spoke. She offered delicate prompts when I got stuck. The funny thing was, I was ordering the same bread every day. After ordering, the clerk would confirm my request in English and I would acknowledge in French. It was fun. We practiced practicing the language of the other, sort of like an international train the trainer experience.

Boulangerie learning was a special treat. But the real treat was that fresh baguette and the deliciously rich chocolate torte I devoured each evening at home.