If I don’t know a word in French then I will usually say it in English but with a French accent. Then I hope for the best. Sixty percent of the time this method of mine has served me well. Where I often go wrong though is when I think a French person will do the same. Meaning, if they don’t know the word in French, to think that they will say it in English with a French accent too. That’s me.

When one is sitting in the dentist’s chair however, this is no time to be taking risks with one’s vocabulary. The first time I went to the dentist about my toothache I thought she was talking about the “resin” (on my crown) wearing off (which is close to what probably happened anyway). Come time again to sit in the seat I had the nagging feeling that my French had failed me. I was right. I put one and one together quickly to finally realise that the dentist was referring to an infection on my racine, or root (which is pronounced much the same way as the English word “resin”). It’s moments like this that I come to know the meaning of the word enlightenment.

Plop!—Canon EOS 30D

Plop!—the sound of chocolate taking a nose dive into a bowl of milk. And I can’t believe it only took me two shots to get what I wanted here. For sure it wasn’t half as messy as this one! But both were oh so fun! More splish splash, drip, drop here and here.

It’s humbling learning another language because one is obliged to become like a child (which probably isn’t a bad thing). I was speaking with a friend from the states who has been here now for two years. I don’t get to see her often because, as most of us English speakers here know, we try not to mix much if we intend on immersing ourselves in the culture and learning the language. Not that we always to do this, but you know. She related how whenever she speaks French how she doesn’t feel like herself. That she feels like another person, one that really isn’t her. Listening to her I couldn’t help but agree. Not that I feel like another person when I speak French, but the moments when conversing when I have stopped in the middle of the conversation and thought, “I really am smarter than I sound.” Maybe this is what my friend was trying to tell me. That we really are smarter than we sound.

Then as I listen to the dialogue going on in my head, I hear the voices of my children. Their voices are vague but after a minute or two begin echoing like a video that is played back repeatedly on the same scene. The times when they have been unable to express themselves well even in English. The times when they have stumbled getting a thought out, or have mispronounced certain words because they have only read it but not heard it. At this I hear something that is barely audible to my ears. “Louder!” I say. I hear it again, but it isn’t much louder than before. It is saying how they too really are smarter than they sound and I am made to reflect on that until my emotions grow bigger than the list of entries in my dictionary.

Happy to report that my friend and I managed to get to Pau last week so that I could have my medical examination. Part of that examination required that I stand on the scales to be weighed. Now I don’t know about you but when it comes to weighing myself in front of another person I would rather dance on the table than stand on any scales. And I can’t dance. I thought I had at least gained ten pounds while being here but when I tiptoed onto the scales I was surprised to learn that I had lost some—after that bit of information I felt I ought at least finish the interview with a dance on the table, but he looked so very serious I didn’t think he would appreciate it. I credit the little weight loss to climbing up and down all those stairs (in many of the older buildings that have no lifts that I am oblidged to climb) and the food. But I finally had the courage to go to the dentist after I told my friend about my tooth. She made the appointment for me and then dragged me half way across town to make sure I made it on time. The dentist gave me a prescription for antibiotics and stronger pain killers with a precaution that if it didn’t work miracles then I had better start praying harder. Well ok, that’s not what she really said but it was near enough. The resin on my crown has worn off, but not only that I have the habit of eating chocolate croissants for breakfast, lunch and dinner followed by hot chocolate and anything else chocolate. So that’s my love affair with French food, and I’ve only mentioned the chocolate. One can wonder why I have a soft spot for France.

I’ll post this now, but I’ll try look for a pic to send later. Maybe one of chocolate, or me cradling my sore tooth.