American in Paris | The Perpetual Passenger

Excuse My French!

June 21, 2012 · by Nikki

I love this phrase. I use it liberally as an excuse to swear. I find it especially effective when talking to my mother who, in the not-so-distant past, used to “speak loudly” (yell) to (at) me using my entire name (you know–in that way that only Moms can) for merely mentioning the word “crap” (don’t worry, Mom, I know you’re supposed to do that 🙂 ). I suppose perhaps part of why her disdain for my linguistic shortcomings has subsided over the years stems from the fact that now I’m an adult (or so they say), so swearing has become slightly more acceptable. Even still, I find that a well-placed “excuse my French” after the choice words I had reserved to describe, say, the French postal service, for example, seems to lessen the blow that a vulgarity can deliver.

Not too long ago, I was talking to Frog Prince about some issue or another and a swear accidentally tumbled across my lips. I immediately followed the surprising slip-up with “excuse my French,” which garnered quite the confused look from him. I tried to explain to him what this term means, and how it’s used. The conversation went something like this:

“Well, when a person swears but they don’t want to offend someone, they might say ‘excuse my French,’ or sometimes it’s ‘pardon my French.'”

“Why? S#*% isn’t a French word.”

“Umm… (calling on my skills of balderdash) I think it’s because a long time ago, people thought swears sounded like French words. Or something.”

“???????”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ll look it up.”

After doing some research on the web, I came across a possible explanation of the origin of the term (though no official citation is included so I’m not sure about the credibility of this account):

In the 19th century, when English people used French expressions in conversation they often apologised for it – presumably because many of their listeners (then as now) wouldn’t be familiar with the language.^[1]

If you think about it, this technically makes my initial attempt at an explanation for the term somewhat correct. People apologized for French expressions, so at some point someone started apologizing for a swear, either thinking it was French or trying to pass it off as such. Either way, I’ll chalk this up as a minor victory. (Side note – can you imagine what the term “excuse my English” might be apologizing for?)

But the funniest part of this little phrase doesn’t come from it’s origin or common use by English speakers. The hilarity, for me, now comes from it’s new use in my life here in France. These days, “excuse my French” is a good way to apologize for the fact that my French still sucks. Go figure. 🙂

Guess I’m not the only one using the phrase this way…
copyright: BBC

“Excuse my French.”1 The Phrase Finder. http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/130800.html (11 April, 2012)

One Year Later: An Honest Recap of my Time in Paris So Far

May 22, 2012 · by Nikki

Saturday, May 19th marked the one year anniversary of my arrival in Paris and of becoming an expat. It has taken me two full days to recover from the celebrations to be able to write something about it.

At the six-month mark, I wrote a little check-up post, outlining the things I had accomplished and the things I still wanted to. I thought about writing this post in a similar format and addressing all of my “wish list” items from six months ago to see how far I’ve come. I may still do that, but for now, I wanted to write something a little more honest and authentic about what it has really been like for me to be an American living in Paris.

First, I want to emphasize that this past year has been one of the best years of my life. I’m having a great time, meeting wonderful new people everywhere I go, gaining a ton of valuable work experience at my job, and expanding my sense of independence and adventure. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything, and I realize I’m very fortunate to have this opportunity. Living and working abroad has always been a dream of mine, and I’m lucky to be in the category of people who gets to say they are really living out one of their dreams.

You’ve seen this one before… some of the friends I’ve met during this past year!

That being said, there is a down side to living in a country where I’m still (slowly) learning the language. I’ve written enough posts about my struggles with French–some funny, some expressing frustration–so I’m sure those who follow my blog closely enough realize, to some extent, the role that the element of language plays in my life. But over the last few weeks, I have really started to struggle with something: my identity as a non-French speaker (yet!) in this country.

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you’re in a group of familiar faces, everyone having a good time, and no one can hear you? The dream starts out fine–you know the people you’re with and you know you’re about to have fun with them. When you realize no one can hear or understand or see you, you become confused, and maybe panic even starts to set in. And then, after several desperate attempts to be heard, the only thing left to feel is frustration. This cycle is my life.

Despite this dream being the perfect analogy of what I often experience here (being in a group of friends speaking to each other in a language I can understand but cannot express myself in), not being heard in a group isn’t the issue that’s been weighing me down lately.

What a lot of people don’t understand, is that even though I’m lucky enough to have such friendly and kind people speaking to me in my language while I’m in their country, is that I often have to change everything about the way I communicate: my vocabulary, my body language, my accent, the subjects we talk about… in order to be understood.Although I’m doing what I can to learn French while working full time (in English), I can still only converse on the level of a five-year-old. It took me months to figure out why I haven’t been feeling like myself in this country, and then it hit me: I am NOT myself here. Nor can I be, until I can fully express myself in French.

Maybe the closest I’ve felt to myself in Paris: watching the Patriots, at a Canadian bar, with my Dad 🙂

On the day of my six-month anniversary in Paris, I left for a trip to the US. On that trip, I had the strangest feeling. Of course I missed my friends and family and was happy to see them all, but it was more than that. Recently I realized what the “more” was. It was relief. Relief because I could once again be the outgoing, sometimes funny, always quirky, opinionated, non-wall flower that I’ve been for most of my adult life. When I read that sentence back, those adjectives do not resonate with the person that I am here in Paris. I have been reduced to a shy, insecure, quiet, easily-intimidated young woman who needs assistance to do a lot of things. Sometimes, I literally feel like another person has taken over my body and the “real me” is forced to sit in silence and watch the whole thing play out.

I know a lot of people who have lived abroad and who have struggled as they adjust to cultural and language differences. But most of the people I know who have embarked on a similar journey have had one important difference: they didn’t do it alone. They either moved with friends, classmates, a significant other, family, or at least knew someone well enough in the new country that they could count on. This is not to say that none of those people faced the challenges I have. On the contrary, I’m sure they did, and I know I’m not alone in feeling like I am another person while in a different country. And I definitely have people I can count on now. But the people who really know me well are a 6 hour plane ride away at best.

Some of the people that know me best! ❤

At the end of the day, all I can do is try to be as close to the “real me” as possible, and hope that the more I learn French, the more my true personality will come out. Then my next concern will be if all of the French friends I’ve made will still be able to stand me at that point 😉 I’m not homesick, and I have no intentions of leaving France anytime soon (sorry Frenchies!), but it’s good to reflect on the challenges you face every now and then. If you don’t recognize why you struggle, how can you know where to concentrate your efforts?

An Update and a Confession

April 10, 2012 · by Nikki

I have been lazy. And this isn’t even the confessional part of this post. I probably shouldn’t reveal this little secret, but the truth is that most of the posts I publish have usually been written days, and sometimes even weeks, before they reach your eyes. I’m sure this isn’t unusual, but the point is that when I published all of my pre-drafted posts, I didn’t write any new ones. So the last month has been a rather boring one here at Perpetual Passenger, and I intend to change that. 🙂

: This was me being lazy last year. Apparently it happens often.

First, I’ll start with an update on things that have transpired that I’ve yet to write about (but will do so in more depth in the very near future):

I went to Tokyo! Whoohoo! I have my little city review and a bunch of pictures to share with you.
I’m taking French lessons again! This makes for great inspiration for the quirky little language differences that I’m discovering, most of which will give you a good laugh.
I had a birthday! This is kind of old news, but actually the inch closer that I have moved toward 30 continually generates some new thoughts (read: crazy thoughts) that might be mildly entertaining to some of you.
I got a haircut! Yeah, very mundane. But the cut is pseudo-drastic, and most of my friends and family haven’t even seen it yet. Plus, switching up my style from time to time can be refreshing, and it has a way of motivating me.
I went to a concert! Love her or hate her, Florence and her Machine kick ass live.

Apart from this stuff, I’ve also decided that, although I am an American in Paris–which seems to be a fairly common situation that people have either lived and want to remember, are living right now and can relate to, or have never lived but fantasize about–which gives me lots of Paris-focused things about which to write, this blog started as a travel blog. I plan to keep writing about my life in France and all of the craziness that comes along with it, but also to try and remember the roots of this thing and include more about the places I go. I went to Prague for the first time and all you got were pictures! Sheesh. I should fire myself and hire a new writer. 🙂

And now for the confession.

I make no effort to hide that there are certain things from the US that I miss, but some of the things I miss are more embarrassing than others. Today I have been hit by the addictive force that is Mac and Cheese. I haven’t had it, or anything like it, in close to 10 months now, and a craving has come over me like a tidal wave. Don’t get me wrong–I didn’t eat a that much mac and cheese when I was in the States. But there are some things that you want simply because you can’t have them. I guess that’s how mac and cheese has re-entered my life. I preferred Annie’s Organic Shells and Cheddar, with a little tuna and some peas (Yum! More like a casserole than a dish of pasta covered in processed dairy…) and I think I’m going to crack, and… yes… maybe…

GO TO THE AMERICAN GROCERY STORE IN PARIS AND BUY SOME!

Oh gosh that was painful. I’ve already written about missing mac and cheese, and how most French people I know feel about it, here. But you should know, dear reader, that I am braving nothing less than ostracism by consuming such a dish here in Paris. You should have seen Frog Prince’s face when I told him this morning that I wanted some mac and cheese! It was like I had told him I wanted to eat a bowl of earth worms. But maybe I can convince him to make some from scratch at home (I know you’re reading this, B. Come on! Home made mac and cheese is awesome and you’re the best chef I know!!! 🙂 ). In any case, I need to get some soon or I might just lose my mind.

So there you have it… a glimpse of the posts that are to come, and a juicy confession to snicker about. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.