Back to life, back to reality. This of course means my stories about the glamorous life in the suburbs are back full force. As much as I know you are dying to hear about me avoiding the pool dude who talks to my boobs, my piles of dirty laundry and what the scandalous neighbours have been up to, I shall save those stories for another day because I simply must prattle on (I’m 40 now I can say prattle) about Paris! 
We arrived in Paris after our red eye flight. Now I understand why they call it the red eye. If you are a nervous flyer and excited about what lays ahead, no way in hell are you going to be able to sleep! Red Eyes. Anyway, we arrive, catch a 40 minute 55 Euro cab ride to our hotel and the hotel gods shine down upon us. Our room is ready! 
We stash our bags and go out to explore one of the most romantic cities in the world!
As we wander the streets I hear a familiar grumbling and realize ..it’s my Hubby’s stomach. We need food. Now. Perfect. A chance to practice that high school French!
We enter an intriguing boulangerie and peruse a mouth watering selection of sandwiches, pastries and unfamiliar yummies. We start panicking slightly as we realize the line we are in is moving at a rapid speed, the french language rolling off the tongues of the locals, even faster. We are not ready to order, and I’m not sure, but I do not think this is French? No one taught me this language! These people are speaking so fast I can’t even pick out a word.
No worries, I assure my Hubby. I’ve got this. When it’s our turn I face the sweet blonde behind the counter and not so boldly state en francais. Pardon, Je ne pas parle francais?
The tiny shop erupts with laughter.
What? What did I do?
“Oh…” the little shop owner replies back in his charming French accent, “I think you just did.” Le Sigh. How embarrassing.
Six shades of red later we leave with our poulet and baguette and a couple of free desserts to make up for the fact that my French entertained the crap out of them our embarrassment.
So, my French may suck, but it gets me free dessert!
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The most important phrase to learn in any language is where are the bathrooms? ?Donde es banos?
I want to hear more about your trip! Hey at least you got something free!!
🙂 I live in the only officially Bilingual province and I don’t speak a word. Canadian French is so very different than France French. You should hear acadian French vs Quebec French.
I’m choking with laughter. That is so cute! And I bet they loved you.
Happy birthday Modern Mom! You are absolutely beautiful:-) I think the people in the shop were just amazed to see you and hear your so charming accent. thanks for sharing a part of your paris experience. looking forward for more~!
Happy 40th! What a way to celebrate. It was mean of the French to laugh at your attempt. Doesn’t everyone know how to say, ‘I don’t speak your language’ in whatever language it happens to be? I thought that was standard.
EEEk you poor thing. But like everyone else Im feel assured for you with your free dessert, after all doesn’t dessert make everything better?
It made me laugh too! I’m glad it earned you extra treats!
Free dessert sounds good to me! 🙂
Embarrassing yourself for free dessert in front of complete strangers you will never see again… Count me in.
I took two years of French in High school, and aside from saying, “My name is Courtney…” I don’t remember any of it. Sounds like a blast, though. And YAY for free dessert!
Sounds like you had a nice time. I know absolutely nothing in French and I will be alone most of the week. I just might lose some weight being afraid to order something. My dear bowling friend who is French told me to just speak very slowly, that all children learn English from 3rd grade on.
Tee hee! And here I thought all along that the Parisians had no sense of humour – ah! Lovely story, made me smile – can’t wait to hear about the rest of your trip 🙂
And they say the French are rude. Nothing rude about free!
Soyez le bienvenue!
My husband is bilingual but me, not so much. I found that everybody appreciated just the effort that I made regardless of what gibberish cane out of my mouth. I don’t know if you found this but the French thought I was American because my accent is not Quebecois.