Wednesday, 2/5

I should probably really start reviewing my French again.

It's been three years since I've actually had to use it, and that was only for a few days while we were in Belgium and Luxembourg for our Black Forest trip. But seeing as how we're planning on spending a whole trip—10 days—in France later this year, I should probably brush up on.

At least if my ability to read newspaper articles is any indication.

Those of you who've been reading these forever know I know just enough French to get around and to order things in bakeries (the two most important reasons to know another language), but that's about it. I could probably carry on a conversation with a four year old, but if their parent were to come over I'd just throw my hands up and hope they spoke English better than I spoke French.

Sadly, I'm one of those people who seems to lose their ability with a foreign language if I don't use it. I suppose it's just like any other muscle in your body; if you don't exercise it, it just wastes away. And since there are very few French speakers in Marquette (or, at least, very few that I know), the only chance I get to “exercise” is to read newspaper articles.

And that's where I've noticed my problem.

I follow a bunch of French news outlets on Facebook, and whenever they post a story I try to read the headline and the story in French, just to work on my skills and to see if I can figure out what's going on. But I've found myself more and more recently just hitting the “translate” button the story because I don't understand a reference or I've forgotten a word (or six).

I don't like that.

That means that I now have seven months left to brush up on the language before we leave. That means that I get to haul out my old laptop, which contains my old version of Rosetta Stone. That means I my “French Isn't Scary” book, a language guide designed for eighth graders but one I've found works perfectly for me. And that means I get to walk around Marquette and, if I see something outside or in a store, I get to call it its name in French, strange looks from people nearby notwithstanding.

So, if you happen to be near me in a store or in a park or on the street and you hear me referring to a black cat as “le chat de noir”, don't worry. I haven't lost my mind (or what's left of my mind). I'm just trying to get ready for a trip in seven months.

(jim@wmqt.com)