I'm Dreaming of a Parisian Christmas

I'm toying with the idea of going to Paris for Christmas. I've never been there in the winter, and I can only imagine how beautiful the City of Light is when it is all decked out for Noel.

Of course there are a few issues I'll have to resolve here first -- find someone to take care of the cats, buy a winter coat, learn to speak French.

Every time I go to France, as enchanted as I am by the place, people and food, I am always a little embarrassed by my inadequate grasp of the language. Oh sure, I can get by. I studied French for four years in high school and college. In fact, I would venture to say I probably speak French better than most graduates of Monsieur Hebert's French II class at Biloxi High School.

Thanks to Monsieur Hebert, I can order off a menu, ask directions, introduce myself and state my age, hometown, occupation and number of children/siblings in short order (although the French don't really go in for that type of personal chit chat with strangers).

I can exclaim "Trop cher!" with proper amount of righteous indignation when le vendeur tries to charge me 80 euros for a scratched piece of silver plate at les marches aux puces.

But I can't jump into those spirited discussions en francais that are always going on in those no-longer-smoky cafes down every atmospheric alleyway in Le Quartier Latin. I can follow along pretty well, even form an opinion about what's being said. But by the time I've formulated a response, the lights are coming on and the bar tender is wiping down that amospheric zinc counter and turning those cute wicker bistro chairs onto those tiny little cafe tables.

Quel dommage!

I've thought of taking a refresher class, but they tend to focus more on grammar and syntax than actual conversation. Since I never bother with grammar and syntax in English, I'm willing to forgo them in my second language.

For conversational French, I've turned to podcasts. You'd be amazed at the sheer number and variety of the options out there.

I approach my French podcast lessons as I would a menu prix fixe at a French cafe.

For l'entree (appetizer), I start with "Coffee Break French." These basic, beginner's level sessions are tied up in neat 15-minute increments, just enough to polish off with a coffee and a cheese danish, if such were still allowed on my low-cholesterol diet. (That's something else I'm going to have to deal with over there. The French have never heard of cholesterol). Coffee Break French's ease gives me a confidence boost, imbuing me with the sense of competency I need to advance to le plat principal -- "Learn French by Podcast."

Like the French I learned in college, Learn French By Podcast's fast-paced conversational volleys are scenario-driven. However, instead of following the misadventures of those wacky gals Jeanette et Jacqueline at le supermarche , I am thrust into supposedly real-life situations, for example flirting with the cute guy walking his Lab in the park. ("Le Lab, c'est mon race preferee!" I'm supposed to coo seductively).

Or discussing wiring problems in my St. Germain de Pres flat with l'electrician. Clearly we have entered the realm of fantasy here. Even if I could afford the rents in St. Germain, the odds of getting an electrician or any contractor to show up in Paris, even in an emergency, would be just about nil, even if I spoke excellent French.

By now I'm feeling cocky, so before ordering the dessert course of my French podcast meal, I take one of those on-line competency tests to measure my clearly improved fluency. Flushed with my progress so far, I sign on for the "intermediate" level.

These tests, sadly, were not dreamed up by the benevolent Monsieur Hebert who wrote I was une tres bonne eleve in my yearbook.

No, le professeur who emails me to say, desolee, but I have not reached the intermediate level, clearly is French. I picture Madame Bessart, the imperious director of Le Cordon Bleu from the movie "Julie and Julia." Especially when she condescendingly wishes me continued success in my beginner's lessons (in perfect English as well as French).

Merde.

Oh, well, dessert wasn't on my diet anyway.