In my Facebook, I used to tell little anecdotes from when I travel to a place where they speak a different language or dialect. Now that I have this blog, it seems like the perfect place to continue doing so.
This first one happened a couple days ago. I flew to Paris for a short stay, and went to get the bus for the city. I stepped in and greeted the driver:
– Bonjour! C’est combien? [Good morning! How much is it?]
The man looked at me sternly and replied:
– /ʌ’lʊ:/ !
… what? Damn, he must have a thick accent. I think I heard “où?” there, he is probably asking where I’m going because it affects the price.
– Paris-Nation, s’il vous plaît.
– /ʌ’lʊ:/ !
Fuck. What is going on here? I’m good enough at French to carry a long conversation but I was completely puzzled with this guy. He could tell I was lost too. He stood up from his seat and looked at me from behind his dark sunglasses. Then he asked:
– English?
Well, time to admit defeat. First sentence in France on this trip and I’m resorting to English. I will have to hand in my polyglot card and retire to a secluded monastery to atone for my sins.
– English, yes, ok…
He smiled openly and proclaimed:
– Well then, so? ‘ELLO!
Disclaimer: The Blind Mouse does not support mocking people for their accents; I do condemn, though, replying in a different language and insisting on doing so when the other person is clearly at a miss on what you’re trying to say.
Originally published in The blind mouse.
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