I just spent a fabulous week in Paris. It was my very first trip there, and as with any such iconic place, I had some preconceptions about what it would be like.
The food would be fabulous.
The city would be fabulous.
The ambiance would be fabulous.
My decision to start taking Spanish instead of French in 8th grade would now give me a big fat raspberry and leave me s.o.l. as an immediately identfiable American tourist and the object of scorn and derision.
The food was fabulous.
The city was fabulous.
The ambiance was fabulous. (And now I can say ambiance in a completely genuine and non-ironic way).
And you know what?
My complete slaughtering of the French language was not an impediment to any enjoyment whatsoever.
Though I did get smirked at a few times. Especially when I accidentally started speaking Spanish.
Because my brain apparently only holds enough space for the languages 'English' and 'Other'.
And right now, 'Other' does not include much French.
But Paris was so lovely, and Parisians were so charming, that I just may try to add a little more space up there for some useful words. Such as...
S'il vous plait!