On français...

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Greetings, I'm Chantal. I recently moved to Lausanne from Santa Barbara, California to accompany my partner, Alec, during his IMD year. My mother is originally Swiss so I have spent a little time in this country throughout my life, but I have never lived abroad and remain quite excited to see what the next few years bring for us. My profession is in oceanographic research, which for now I continue to work on from my apartment in Lausanne in collaboration with the University of California. (It makes perfect sense to study the ocean from Switzerland, no?) Hopefully, a new professional opportunity is soon on the horizon for me since my American salary is just about enough to buy me a daily coffee and croissant in Switzerland and that's it!

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I don’t know, may be it’s because I’m aging. It seems I can enjoy a glass of wine in the evening while practicing my online French-learning software, only to wake the next day with a mild hangover and acute memory loss of any of the French tutorial of the night before. This is kind of a shame because I just assumed wine went so well with French things.

My realization that I am now a resident and not just a traveler in Switzerland anymore (hence the need to learn the language) came immediately upon move-in to our apartment. My ability to greet my new neighbors lacked a certain je ne sais quoi, to say the least. They were on their way out of their apartment as I was moving into mine. I said “Bonjour” kindly, to which they rapidly spoke a bunch of nice neighborly stuff I unfortunately could not understand, to which I then proclaimed “BONJOUR!” (again, for lack of any other French phrases) and hurried back inside my apartment to retreat back into mono-lingual purgatory.

During my early education and college years I feel I had a real enthusiasm and retention capability for learning languages. Three years of Spanish, two years of German, a year of Italian. Where did any of my vocabulary go!? Also, I’ve noticed recently that even when doing simple phrase translations using my phone, I still often approach a sales counter and draw a complete mental blank on what I had planned to say en français. (I’m hoping it’s just nerves and not acute memory loss!) What generally ensues after the expectant look from the sales person is my scramble to express ‘sorry’ in the appropriate context (“Je me excuse”…“Pardon”… “Je suis désolé”…I still don’t know which to use!) This is followed by my proclamation of “Je ne parle pas français” in a feeble-minded French accent, to which the sales person invariably responds: “No sh*t, lady.” (or at least I’m pretty sure that is the translation.)

As of recent, I also tend to experience a latent sense of anxiety around town even though I love shopping. This is mainly due to the well-intended sales people asking how they can serve me better, and my knowing I won’t be able to answer properly and politely. Occasionally I can hint toward something I need, using the vocabulary of a small toddler with a French speech impediment (“Er, oranges...avec chocolat, s’il vous plait?” The rapid, incomprehensible response is usually what causes me the most anxiety: “Allorsmadame! pouletjusq’ upousvousjepardejentenjentjis commecicommecamerci beaucoupaurevoirbonjourneeeeeeemadame!!”

Yikes. And suddenly I’m paying 10.- CHF for two candied chocolate-dipped orange slices. Don’t get me wrong, they were heavenly, but my weak français holds the potential to negatively influence my even weaker Swiss bank account.

The point is, it is now due time that I take French lessons. I can’t continue walking into department stores attempting to ask to be shown something (“Bonjour, pouvez-vous me le montrer?”) only to realize I have asked them to mount me (“Bonjour, pouvez-vous me le monter?”). (And don’t get me started on the post office and my not being able to speak French. The post office is the worst; I have confirmed that postal workers are self-loathing the world over; i.e., this is not unique to the USA.)

As a last note, while I will never discount the incredible accessibility and ease of the Google Translator, state-of-the-art translation technology will only ever be able to somewhat guide (or seriously misguide) one on the nuances of français. There is a bar across the street from my apartment on Avenue de Cour called the Gros Minet - my neighborhood bar, if you will. Now, I was told by a Lausanne local that the bar’s name means “Big Kitten”; however, Google says the translation is “Big Pussy”. Mon dieu! It is time to properly learn français.

Fortunately, our IMD partner network already has some informal French classes in the works, and we are lucky there are also language schools very nearby to take advantage of. Thank you to all of those partners who are already offering their time to give many of us language lessons (français, Deutsch, English, Mandarin). I am curious to see how the year progresses and if I can finally break out of my comfy English-speaking shell! I hear wine can help with that, too. Hmm…