All The French Things

I always knew I would take French when the time came to choose a foreign language in seventh grade.  

In those days, I was on the fast track to becoming a professional ballerina with the Paris Opera Ballet.  So I was already practically fluent, thank you very much! I so closely associated French with ballet that I assumed most French people were ballet dancers.   They were all obviously sophisticated and otherworldly just like me. Only after I thought about things more logically did I realize that when a French person says glissade jeté, it actually isn’t some code language for the more chic among us – it really just means “slide and throw.” 

During my high school years, I attended the (University) of North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a town where the most recognizable building is affectionately called “The Penis Building.”  There, I was able to hone my ballet skills and (of course) my French skills.  My French classes were mostly filled with 90 pound ballet devotées like myself, and this only furthered my conviction that most French people are ballet enthusiasts. 

But at the end of my junior year of high school, I got the chance to actually go to France- a beach city on the Atlantic called Royan.  For a whole month. Whoa. 

To my surprise, none of the French people I met gave a hoot about ballet.  During my summer program, I stayed with a woman about my Mom’s age named Dom (short for Dominique).  She was a big woman who lived in an apartment above her boutique where she sold overpriced handbags to unsuspecting tourists.  She enjoyed sitting on her balcony in the evening, drinking sweet white wine, and making fun of the cops who sped down the street on mopeds every couple minutes.  Not entirely unlike my own dear old mom!  The month I spent with her gave me a taste of the rush that comes from truly communicating in a new language.  Not to mention I got to learn all the derogatory terms for “police officer” that exist in French.  I was hooked. 

Soon after I got back from first summer in France, Dom called my cell phone (just to say Salut!) while I was with a group of high school friends.  I told them to “please hold on a minute,” while I yapped away in French on the phone with Dom.  Wow.  I have never (to this day) felt so cool. 

So while I am finding myself (and stuff) in France this year, I will also secretly be reliving that moment.  (One week till I leave!!)