Sometimes I really do question my very random behavior. Namely, my belief that I speak fluent French. I absolutely, nowhere near do!

This morning, I strolled into the gym acting all very Francais and ready for ‘cardio day’ — a casual “Bonjour, ça va?” on my way in whilst flashing my membership card at the front desk. As the receptionist swiped my card, I waited for the usual “Bonne séance” so I could follow up my signature “Merci” and glide off to the changing rooms.

But not today. Oh no. Today, instead of the expected pleasantries, she hit me with “Ah, pardon madame hgosjefgga hgaaf hgihgnhawpef.” A string of French so fast and so indecipherable, it knocked the chic wannabe right out of me. There was a problem with my card. Of course there was. But don’t ask me what the problem was, because i didn’t understand a word.

Suddenly, I was back to my humble beginner status. “Er… errm…” I stammered before finally blurting out that classic line of every expat in over their head: “Vous parlez Anglais?”

Thank God she did.

It’s really very surreal living in a country where I can’t communicate at the level I’m used to. Especially when I want to argue with a waiter for letting my table go, or tell the person on the other end of the telephone line how f*&king unhelpful they are. I can usually be found under my desk crying after such moments.

Armed with only GCSE level French and a 300 day streak on Duolingo really isn’t enough to even get me through a grocery shop. By the way, I have since seen that streak dwindle back to 0, some call it a lack of commitment, I call it ‘busy at work’! It was a sad moment, tears were shed and a wtf tantram was had.

My 1-1 French lessons were short lived, my French tutor was really not Frenching French in a way that suited me and I honestly couldn’t cope. I should really find a new tutor. It’s at the top of my 2025 list!

Until then, I’ll keep strolling into establishments, brimming with confidence and my very limited French vocab—convincing everyone, including myself, that I’m a bona fide Parisienne. That is, of course, until I’m inevitably derailed by yet another “Do you speak English?” moment.