French Roast

Today the world politely reminded me that it is not unilingual.  At the exact same time it also reminded me why I am in Quebec in the first place.

This story really starts last night, when our group went swimming, at a pool, oui.  The pool is in a Police Training Academy that is apparently quite renowned and famous in Quebec.  It is this great big beautiful stone building (this sentence can also be applied to 2/3 of every building in this provence) in the middle of town.  On one wing is a fitness facility and a community auditorium and the rest is probably top secret high security business with shooting ranges and dramatic crime scene reenactments.  At least, that is how it is in my head.

I quit swimming early a) because my left ankle decided it would be a great time to swell up to the size of a small mango and b) because i'm fairly incapable of doing front crawl.
(A small aside - Eric greatly improved my stroke when we were in Thunder Bay, but without him by my side I tend to hyperventilate and my flutter kick looks more like a person having a seizure)

Another important fact about swimming:  It's not cool to pretend to be an orca whale, surfacing for air, when kind, elderly men are busy workin' on their fitness in the next lane over.  Martin, with his long hair, fully splashed about 6 people while becoming the human incarnation of Free Willy and I was ashamed to be seen as his swim partner. Especially as my french capabilities are not great enough to defend myself.  I don't think so anyways.  I should put more faith in my language.

On my way back to my locker a nice policelady says things to me in French (Voulez-vous prendre une douche?)  which I take to understand as "Do you want to shower?"...  I also took this to mean "Would you like to shower with me?" as there was no one else in the room and I had not expressed interest in showering prior to this conversation.

Oh.. hmmm... okaay..

This one caught me off guard a little bit.  But, upon looking to my right hand side I discovered there were several shower units... shower units which I was blocking.  So, facial expressions summarized, first I give this person a look of complete bewilderment, then comes confusion, then comes realization that Hey! There are some showers right there! Look at that! You are asking me to move and not to shower with you! Right! and lastly I manage to actually speak, only to spit out, "Oh! Oui" and move out of the way to let her through. Which in hindsight, I realize, doesn't make sense.  "Yes, I'd love to shower, allow me to move away from them quickly."

I wonder if she knows I don't speak her mother tongue or if she thinks I'm just a really clueless francophone with a very expressive face.

I've been having a lot of trouble with this sort of translation, and have now taken to calling it the shower translation; this furthers the confusion I instigate, I imagine.  I've found lately with the whole question asking that is it more intonation changes than phrase changes and I'm not great with voices I'm not used to.

Today at work I spoke more French than usual and I'm not sure why, though possibly just because it's fun to actually talk to the people in the office instead of just sitting around at break time looking at everyone's shoes like some tired puppy.  After work however I had to go downtown (a phrase which is not used in small places like Nicolet where there is no actual downtown) to buy some tape for said mango sized ankle.

No luck at the grocery store less that 30 m away, although a cute boy with snake bites told me to "check street down with colours".  Although this was in English it needed translation.  I came up with few answers but I continued walking down the street to a drugstore which is called Family with a strange ending.  I walk in and quickly find out that the woman at the front speaks no English. Whatever.  I ask her for the medical stuff.  She points left.  I go left. The store isn't very big so left doesn't leave much room.  I find the medical stuff.  A pharmacist finds me. I express my concern.. in English.

Bad move.

She begins to freak out.

"Non! Non! Non! Jenpeuxpasvousaider!"

Oh great.

I say "It's okay, I don't need help" but really couldn't find it in me to say this in French so I just walked away.  I go back to the medical bondage section which is a small section with nothing in it but tensores and polysporin.  Also great.

At this point I was late for dinner and in a mood that may be described as irritated; I just want some stupid tape!

This came out of my mouth accidentally, as I walked down a different aisle so I looked behind me to make sure I hadn't inadvertently offended the poor, hypersensitive pharmacist.

Rounding a corner I run into what appears to be another pharmacist.  I quickly squeak out a "desole!" and try to veer right to avoid any more problems. Possible-pharmacist woman turns to me then and says "The medical tape is over here and the scotch tape is in the school supplies section."
Hallelujah.  When in doubt, get a little bit angry and say something without meaning to near an anglophone! H'okay let's get this tape and go.

Oh right. Cash register. From personal experience on both sides of a till, language barriers with money are relatively easy to solve as numbers are still numbers and it is general knowledge to have basic 1-10 in another language down by age 6.  I give the girl my card and she tells me my total.  AND THEN IT HAPPENED AGAIN.

While I'm punching in my pin the girl asks me "Voulez-vous un sac?"..

Don't be alarmed though, I was well prepared from the evening before and breezed by with an ultra cool, "Non, merci" as though I had never freaked out at intonation-type questions before in my life.

Bon Nuit!

Petra :)