"French is the language that turns dirt into romance." -- Stephen King

 I was at the grocery picking up a few items this afternoon and the 20-something cashier, whom I deal with several times a week, totaled my items and smiled and said, "Fourteen forty-seven." In clear English. My eyes got big and I said, "very nice" and she says, "you can help me work on my English."

We're now nearly five months into our French immersion and I am learning only too slowly. While the written word is comparatively easy, the spoken is not and it's largely due to the shortcuts and duplicities that can make English look simple. Of course, that's easy for me to say. But we got a short tutorial from our landlord today when she came by to water the plants on the balcony.

She speaks pretty good English, but we try to engage her in French as often as we can. She does her best to stifle laughter, but took time today to write down some subtleties. As in any language, there are some things like guttural sounds that don't translate well. For example, we had been mispronouncing the city of Reims, where we are headed next week. It's as if you pronounce the R and the M but the two letters in between are a sound unfamiliar to English. I get it.

Spanish has no real similarity to the soft G, as in "general." This makes it difficult for some fans of the Los Angeles Dodgers to pronounce the team name. It comes out "Doyers." In Los Angeles, you can buy shirts that say "Doyers" in the familiar team script. I almost bought one once, but figured it might be misinterpreted as a slur outside of Southern California. It's not. But so it is with French -- it takes time to learn the native mouth movements and that's the frustrating part.

We met new friends for lunch Saturday in Paris -- the kind of meet-up you have with folks you know on Facebook and through mutual friends but turn into actual face-to-face things. It was one of the most enjoyable days we've had lately, expanding our usual one-on-one over champagne and nice food. We'll be seeing them again.

Our suburban experience is delightful, though there is much less to do outside our front door. It takes time to go places, such as my hike up to a 1500s church this morning. Going out to eat requires at least a bus trip and a return to Paris requires at least 30 minutes between bus and train. We miss the immediacy of the Big City but the slower place here is also nice. Paris is accustomed to tourists, but this area is not. Like with the grocery cashier, we're seen more as oddities and a learning experience when it's clear we're not here for just a week or so. "Why are you here?" seems to be the main question. Well -- we planned it that way.

In our remaining month, there will be at least three more trips to Paris for me. I have a croissant class there this Friday. Next week we'll both be going to Reims (however you pronounce it) to taste some champagne, then the week after to Giverny (easier to pronounce) in NormanDEE to see Claude Monet's house and garden. All these trips require trains into Paris and some Metro time and each one will offer some lures to linger and maybe pick up something else we don't need in a city we dearly love.

All that said, we're looking forward to our North American return at the end of June. There will no longer be a language barrier (well, it's Canada so maybe a little. I say that with a smile). The neighborhood looks great from a grocery and strolling standpoint and it'll be good to experience some actual time in British Columbia. I visited a series of times when I lived in Washington, but it was only for the day. We'll be in an actual house (how-oos, as they say) and back to a separate bedroom, as opposed to the current studio arrangement. The place looks tiny, but we'll work things out like we always do.

The photo at the top is of our desserts this evening. We don't know if we'll ever be able to find that kind of thing again when we leave here, at least on a consistent basis and without having to drive someplace. It'll all be part of our ongoing readjustment.

We are forever changed, making us both more patient with some things yet more intolerant of others. It's  the real dichotomy of being Out Here. It's difficult to say which is worse.