It was a dream opportunity: move to France, eat cheese and baguettes (lactose intolerance be damned), and drink delicious wine, all the while learning to speak a foreign language. Of course I did eventually check all of these things of my list—and I suppose you can also cross off “fall in love” for the romantics out there—but it was not an easy road, so here is a reflection on the process of learning French over the past six years.

Level 1: franglais

The first time I moved to France I was a recent graduate looking for an opportunity to work on my French, which at the time, was just good enough to ask for directions but not quite good enough to understand the directions given. I grew up in Canada, where for some reason, many of us are lead to believe that we speak fairly decent French (“oui je parle un petit peu français” ….). Yet, despite a few years in private school and courses in University it was obvious the moment my plane touched down that I had overestimated my linguistic abilities. 

As native English speakers, we tend to flock together in foreign countries and that is exactly what I did. I was working as a fille au pair (nanny) and my job was to speak English with the girls. Most of my free time was either spent working alone on my design portfolio, or hanging out around Grands Boulevards with my friends that worked at the Hard Rock Cafe. The only time I spoke any French was when ordering in restaurants, “une bière s’il vous plaît”, or often in length with Marielle, the mother of the family, who was extraordinarily persistent that I speak more French, something I will be forever grateful for. 

As someone who likes to talk, I would speak a mixture of French and English and on the whole, people would understand me. Still, it was extremely frustrating to not have the vocabulary for simple every day words and it seemed nearly impossible to make friends with people who didn’t also speak English. I did make one friend, a sort of wacky punk girl who lived not far from me, who spoke not a word of English but was extremely eager to hang out anyway. I jumped at the opportunity and we spent a few afternoons hopping on the RER to wander through chateaus, discover restaurants, and all the time speaking of hopes and dreams using only gestures and my broken French. 

Despite the comfort of friends, the majority of whom were anglophones, my level of French kept me from really feeling comfortable in France. I felt like an idiot. Just going to the supermarket was a stressful occasion. I would formulate phrases and questions and repeat them over and over in my head before approaching anyone, and even then I’d usually manage to mess it up. I was long from having any real and meaningful conversations in French and I’d regularly go to bed with a headache from trying to listen so carefully. I was still a tourist in Paris even though six months had passed since my arrival.  

Looking back now I know that it was an incredible first experience, and while there were moments of loneliness and constant frustrations, these were the experiences that paved the way to where I am, and (since we’re being cheesy), who I am today. But it was one singular experience, or rather encounter, that made the biggest impact on my life…towards the end of my stay I met my partner, Nicolas, a story I will save for another day. What I didn’t know at the time, was that this chance meeting would be responsible for bringing me back to Paris, this time with a different lens through which to see and experience French culture. 

Level 2: the language of love

Gross title, sorry I couldn’t help myself. So, this is where we get to the part where I admit that I feel like I kind of cheated linguistically by finding a French boyfriend. As I see it, there really is no more efficient way to learn a language but it’s hardly the advice you’re looking for… go out and find yo’self a man (or woman)! It wasn’t something I was looking for, but it happened, and because of it I was given the golden ticket to my own French friend group. I should mention that Nico and I actually speak English together, so learning French really comes down to finding a French group of friends (in-laws help, especially kids) rather than a partner, but the partner is a pretty good way in. 

It was a few years before I moved back to Paris. Nico and I had been doing long distance for a while, he was living in San Francisco at the time, and I had moved to Toronto to finish my degree. During my third year of school I applied for a semester abroad in France, which was just around the same time that he moved back to Paris. So there I was, back in Paris! I attended a tiny art school, ESAG Penninghen, in the heart of Saint-germains-des-prés which I commuted to by vélib (municipal bike service). I couldn’t believe my life at times. There I was, biking home over the Seine as the sun was setting, passing by Notre Dame and Hotel de Ville after a few hours of life drawing and photography classes. My life was a dream.

HOWEVER. I think this period was the most challenging (awful) for me. I had made slight progress in French, having spent time with Nico’s French friends in SF where I lived with him over the summers. Once in Paris we spent most of our time with Nico’s friends. They’re all my close friends now, but at the time I couldn’t express myself quite well enough to really be myself. I often felt left out, not being able to follow jokes or references, often returning questions with sad, blank stares. In large groups I’d often go unnoticed or ignored, it being too much work to try and communicate the exception being a few friends who were VERY diligent at involving me to whom I owe so much of my progress and confidence.  For those of you learning another language, you have probably experienced a similar phase. Unfortunately, it’s a long and depressing one. Once you reach a level where you can hold down a conversation you start to build relationships, yet while you can react to stories and add a little commentary, you realise quickly that these people aren’t seeing the “real you”. You can’t make jokes or be witty, forced to respond with a limited set of tools; the language stifles your personality. 

Not only is the language different but the way it is used to express emotions and humour is also different from my own experience with English. So you’re really learning two new languages, how to speak French, and and how to not take offense on the daily. Throw the French slang verlan in the mix and you’re officially drowning in France. 

This time around I stayed for eight months. After my semester was over I was able to find a “stage” (internship) at a production company. We were living in a 25 square metre apartment, which didn’t help matters, and I was very, very lonely. Despite it being my darkest period in Paris, I went from being in school to working in a French environment and so I was surrounded every day by French people and thus forced to make an effort. Unlike the first time around, this time I was actually integrated into French culture. It was challenging, and being able to now speak mediocre French actually presented me with new problems, like adapting to a different culture on a deeper level but, while it was exhausting and a little bit soul crushing at times, I knew I had made a big step forward. Still, by the end of it I was relieved to be back in Canada eating All Dressed chips and Tim Horton’s bagels. 

Level 3: day to day

Flash forward to present day: my Tim’s bagels and cream cheese have been replaced by warm baguettes and crunchy salted butter. I have been living in Paris now for almost two years. Like many other ex-pats, I was worried about finding work with my level of French and so, feeling somewhat intimidated, I decided instead to work in freelance. This gave me freedom to roam, although admittedly I spent a lot of time cooped up at home. Still, it’s Paris so we were always out and about and over time, I’ve become comfortable speaking French. So comfortable that I even leveled up recently when I swore at a taxi driver who cut me off on my bike. It would seem that not only am I getting more comfortable with the language I’m clearly replacing my passive Canadianness with fiesty French aggression! The jury’s out on whether or not this is a good thing. 

My life has changed by leaps and bounds. Those friends I had trouble being myself with in the beginning are some of my closest friends. That said, I still struggle to really express myself in a natural fashion but at least they all know that it’s something that troubles me because I’m finally able to articulate my feelings to them. I work for a French start-up, a recent change, which not only makes me feel more confident about my French but has given me a new chance to really immerse myself in Parisian day to day life.

My French still has a long way to go, especially written. It’s not an easy language and I accept that I will probably always be learning and improving upon it. This can still be very frustrating, and realising how endless the task ahead is can be a little demotivating. I don’t think English speakers really realise how complicated a language French is; even my coworkers read and reread their emails in a way I’ve never seen before, attempting to ensure that there are no obvious mistakes (and yet there were always be some sneaky ones). Still, despite the difficulties French presents, looking back on where I started from I have to admit I’m quite proud of myself. It’s not an easy task to learn another language, and doing so while also navigating cultural differences without the comfort of “home” is emotionally demanding. 

If I could offer you any super cliché advice it would be to push yourself out of your comfort zone. This is of course easier said than done, but take it one step at a time. Make a small weekly goal for yourself and get out there! Talk to your butcher,  talk to your baker (talk to your candlestick maker?). It may not always be easy but the hardships are part of the experience you signed up for and you’re tougher than you think. Plus, you have a community of ex-pats each with shoulders to cry on. We’ve all been there. Don’t hesitate to reach out.

On a very final note, don’t forget to pat yourself on the back now and then. It’s extremely hard living in a new country where you lack the comforts and rhythm of home. Already you’re brave AF to have taken a risk on something that so many people would be too scared to do. Hats off to you. Chapeau!

I would absolutely love to hear about your own experience learning French. Feel free to leave your stories in the comments below or shoot me an email 🙂