It iswith some trepidation that I go into a small grocery store and ask the classic question "Bonjour Madame, avez‑vous du pain, s'il vous plait?" I get the gist of the answer ‑ no, but the patisserie over the road opens at three o'clock. I had survived my first venture into spoken french.
I remember the year of French that I did at school for the times that I was reduced to tears or just made to feel useless. Having done two years of German with its strict rules of grammar and the pronunciation of every letter in a word, I found French something akin to Martian ‑ there were too many silent letters, and strange sounds and intonations. I swore I would never visit France, the language terrified me and I was afraid of making a fool of myself by not being able to understand it.
Feeling that, on this trip, it would be useful to have at least some basic knowledge of French, I had embarked on various self‑teaching programs. My computer proved a useful learning aid, and I felt I was doing quite well. Unfortunately the computer did not talk back and, while I seem to be able to make myself understood, I have great difficulty in understanding a spoken answer that contains more than about three words. But, yes, it was worth the effort. Contrary to something we had heard on the radio, away from the tourist areas few French people are willing to speak English, and they are certainly quite enthusiastic, and sympathetic, about other people at least trying to communicate in their language.
As regards French bread, we now know out why French people walk or cycle home breaking off bite‑sized chunks from their baguettes. It is delicious, but only when fresh, hence it is baked several times a day.
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