Pardon... Je Ne Comprends Pas

I have been smitten with the French language and I cannot explain why.  I remember sitting on the muni in San Francisco behind two French ladies one day.  I was pretty certain they were having an argument, but they sound as though they were exchanging compliments about each other’s hair instead.  At that time, I was already taking rudimentary French but I learned that day that it will take me a very long time before I can advance to “French for Eavesdroppers”. Spare for a trip to French Canada, I have not had the opportunity to practice my “French for Babies”.  I still remember a few words here and there and if I think REALLY hard and I get desperate, I might be able to croak, “Ou est la Tour Eiffel?”. But that will be the extent of my French.

After over three years, I’ve picked up trying to learn French again - out of necessity, this time.  Friends, je vais a Paris!

It would be interesting how far I could go with listening to podcasts thirty minutes a day on my short drive to and from work and studiously working on a couple workbooks for four weeks.  I don't think I'll get the ROI from Rosetta Stone given the procrastinated nature of my trip - unless somebody is willing to loan me one?    

In about four weeks, I will be in the country of my favorite guttural and nasal speakers.  I would be sitting at a Parisian café sipping French coffee al fresco, dreamily watching Parisian life go by while the air buzzes with the melancholy of the singsong French language filled with conversations about mundane, everyday affairs like someone telling someone how much laundry she did that day or the a man complaining to the waiter that the toilet would not flush.

Somebody, pinch me!