Learn French

My first big French number fail happened at a phone shop in Lyon. I was trying to give my new number, and somewhere between soixante-dix /swa.sɑ̃t.dis/ — seventy — and quatre-vingt-trois /katʁə.vɛ̃.tʁwa/ — eighty-three — the cashier looked at me like I’d just recited a spell from the wrong wizarding school. I could say un, […]

The first time someone asked me in France to describe a friend so they could recognise him, I proudly said:Il est très grand, avec la tête un peu… normale. /il ɛ tʁɛ ɡʁɑ̃ avɛk la tɛt œ̃ pø nɔʁ.mal/ “He’s very tall, with a head that’s kind of… normal.” The barman stared at me, then

The first time I tried to compliment someone in France, I aimed for “Hey, your jacket is really nice,” and somehow produced a sentence that sounded more like I was proposing marriage to their coat. The person smiled politely, the way you smile at a confused tourist, and I realized: I could order a baguette,

The first week I moved to France, I survived on exactly two questions: Ça va ? /sa va/ — how’s it going? and C’est combien ? /sɛ kɔ̃.bjɛ̃/ — how much is it? Anything more complex and my brain froze, my mouth panicked, and I ended up pointing at things like a polite yak in

The first time I left a café in Paris, I did what any nervous yak with a coffee addiction would do: I escaped. I stood up, muttered merci /mɛʁ.si/ — thank you to the air, and bolted for the door in total silence. The waiter called after me Au revoir ! /o ʁə.vwaʁ/ — goodbye!,

The first week I moved to France, I thought I’d mastered French politeness because I knew bonjour /bɔ̃.ʒuʁ/ — hello and salut /sa.ly/ — hi. Then I walked into a bakery, said a big cheerful Salut ! to the woman behind the counter… and watched her eyebrows travel to another dimension. She still sold me