Jumping on a one-way plane to Paris and submitting to a year of lingual humility was my way of learning French. Although I have mastered everything except for the French art of negotiation, my bilingual brain is continually at a loss for words, my speech peppered with long pauses and tortured hand gestures. With my brain tuned to Franglais, I have started translating from French to English, leaving me with a strangely proper speech pattern. Is this one of the proven benefits of bilingualism?
Nevertheless, here is an imagined conversation between two expats inspired by my bilingual bêtise:
A. How do you go?
B. I go well. I am enchanted to finally meet you!
A. Would you like to take a coffee?
B. Yes, it would make me pleasure.
A. I know a bar in the Marais which is quite agreeable. The prices are correct for the neighborhood. Although the music is strong, it is the most interesting option.
B. Yes, that has a sympathetic air.
A. What do you take to make pleasure?
B. I am feeling greedy. I will take a chocolate good and hot, if you please.
A. I must go. Embrace your boyfriend very strongly for me.
B. It made me pleasure to see you!
. . . . .