Taking Stock - Part 1

“There is never any ending to Paris, and the memory of each person who had lived in it differs from that of any other. Paris is always worth it, and you received in return for whatever you brought to it.”
Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast

As I sit here at 5am on a Sunday morning, no longer able to sleep, still jet lagged, I wonder what the three Tai girls brought to Paris and what we received in return. What was our year all about? Going to Paris we certainly had goals in mind; what we wanted to accomplish and hoped to gain from this experience. Did we achieve these? Can we check our goals off our list? Now that we are back in Calgary, it is time to take stock of our year.

The year in Paris (and my blog) started with me sitting in a café after dropping Gabrielle off for her first day of school. The Frenchman beside me struck up a conversation and the second sentence out of his mouth was “what a lovely English accent you have." For a transplanted half Canadian half French woman, hoping to fit in, this was not the most encouraging way to commence the year. Luckily our French improved over the year, some of us faster than others.

It only took a month of school for Nathalie to start sounding like a Parisian adolescent, stylish mumbling included. Her accent is impeccable; any hint of the Canadian is completely gone. By October, she was correcting my French. By November she was rolling her eyes at me when I made mistakes, looking embarrassed in front of her new friends. I brought this on myself though, as this was one of our main goals for the girls, for them to speak French better than I do. I did not factor in the 11 year old attitude and the rolling of the eyes.

Gabrielle had higher to climb and more work to do. She did not disappoint. She was in special lunch time sessions with her teacher for students with French issues. Come December, Gabrielle was told she no longer needed to attend the lunch time sessions. By January, Gabrielle was correcting my French. Apparently I should have been attending these sessions with her. But a week before our departure back to Canada a French friend told me that he could almost not hear my accent when I spoke French. I did not question him any further, took this as a compliment and quickly changed the subject.

A few days later, with some good family friends and apparently speaking French with barely any accent, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake.” Kristian is my younger brother. Years ago when he was 12-years-old and we were in Paris he commented to our French family about the peanut butter he liked back home because it did not have any “preservatives” in it. In French, "preservatifs" means condoms. Needless to say, our family was quite delighted to hear that Canadian peanut butter did not contain condoms. Yes, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake” two days before leaving Paris. At least after a year of school in Paris the girls speak French better than I do. Apparently my French still needs some work.

The only French I wished we had left behind are the lovely schoolyard words the girls have learned and occasionally use –which I will not repeat here. These are some words that are better left at recess at their Parisian schools. Merde, this is not the kind of French I brought them to France for, goddammit!

I can proudly check off our list: French language skills (with some bonus words too). √

Next, getting to know zee intimidating Parisian relatives....