By Caleigh Bourgeois
I was very confident about my French speaking abilities
before moving to Belgium. I could clumsily muster a, “Je voudrais un café.” I
could even ask for directions! I understood French films! Upon boarding my
plane ride to Belgium I was convinced I would be fluent within a few months.
I quickly learned that taking classes in a
second language in your home country does not make you immediately proficient
in the real world.
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| "Grande-Place," en Francais, "Grand Place," in English |
Surprise, surprise, the locals don’t speak as slowly as my French
professors did. While everyone tends to speak quickly in native tongue, the
French language in particular lacks staccato. While beautiful, French words
flow together with few pauses, which makes distinguishing them more difficult.
My pronunciation needed some work right away. While a Midwest
accent may do just fine in a classroom, native French speakers often have a
hard time understanding my speech, even when I "technically" pronounce words
correctly. Learning not to pronounce an “r” is almost as difficult as learning to roll it.
It isn’t always difficult. For me, the easiest aspect of studying French has always been reading it. I can recognize street signs and
decipher food labels quite well. Although in Brussels, they are also in Dutch.
This brings me to an entirely new dynamic I face. There are
two official languages in Belgium, Dutch and French. In fact, the country is
split up into three regions, Vlaanders, the Dutch region and Wallonia, the
French region, and a third extremely small German-speaking region gained after
the Treaty of Versailles.
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| Photo Credit: SicMagazine.Org |
Brussels falls in the Flemish (Dutch-speaking) region, but
because of its one-of-a-kind status as home to the EU, both Dutch and French
are spoken. Every sign, label and metro stop is in both languages.
While I work for a Flemish/American newspaper, my knowledge of Dutch consists
of, “allo,” “dank u,” and any Germanic words that cross over with English.
This wasn't an issue until I traveled out into Vlaanders for work.
I went to a gorgeous city called Antwerp, a major diamond retail hub and former
port for emigration. Everyone there spoke Dutch and everything was in
Dutch. Even my French knowledge couldn’t save me.
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| Dutch-speaking city of Antwerp |
The opposite happened when I traveled to Wallonia . There, everyone spoke French, no Dutch, but more importantly for me, no English.
While most people speak English in Brussels, and insist on doing so after
hearing my accent, no one I met in Wallonia could.
After getting off at the wrong train stop in Verviers,
Belgium, I had no other choice but to speak French with an attendant at the
train station. I was lost and alone and it was the best possible practice I
could have received. It was exhilarating and prosperous.
Although I’ve had moments of extreme embarrassment, goofy
mix ups and sheer panic, it is so much fun practicing my French with the
locals. I certainly am not at the level of proficiency I wanted to be after two
months, but my adventures in learning are more memorable than I ever
could have imagined.
Every successful interaction in French feels is a victory,
whether it’s speaking with a cashier or asking for directions. It’s incredible
how some words come back to me seemingly out of nowhere, words I haven’t used
since high school French six years ago.
Speaking in French the only fun part. I love eavesdropping on conversations in the Metro to
find context. I buy French magazines and spend up to 30 minutes on a two-page
story, finding new words and trying to grasp the article’s purpose. It feels
like I’m cracking a secret code.
Last night, I dreamt entirely in French. I’ve heard it said
that dreaming in a second language is a sign that you’re well on your way in learning it.
Although I’m not going to come home singing Edith Piaf with perfect
pronunciation, I am satisfied with the progress I am making, and look forward
to working toward true fluency.
