Quelque chose a travailler

Whoa, that last post threw me into a bout of nostalgia of the likes I haven’t felt in years.

It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about my time in France, largely because I think I wore out the topic over the course of the past decade. When I first came home, it was my novelty. People asked, and I talked. Non stop. For about a year.

My biggest regret is not keeping up the French language. I have 12 years of public immersion education, two years of true cultural and language immersion, and a four-year university major in French behind me, and yesterday I spent a solid 90 seconds trying to remember what the French word for cell phone was. Handily, I had a Quebecois nearby and asked him. Telephone cellulaire, he offered. But I knew that wasn’t right.


I can still read and write and eavesdrop, but when I try to speak I stall out on simple, common words.

Like portable.

(Okay, I didn’t forget that last one – it’s slang for “very” or “really,” used for emphasis. I use it a lot, which earns me raised eyebrows from the resident Quebecois.)

I know I’ve written a few times here in French, and I’m going to make a concentrated effort to do so again. (My keyboard spontaneously switches to Canadian French a few times a day, so that’s probably a sign).


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