Five years ago, I moved to Montreal with a few years of Spanish and a naive belief that it would help me navigate French. Spoiler alert: It didn't.
I quickly realized that learning French was essential. Under the COVID lockdown, options were limited. So, like any modern learner, I turned to YouTube, diligently scripting basic interactions.
My bakery script started simple but confident: "Bonjour. J'aimerais acheter du pain s'il vous plaît. Merci, je vais payer avec crédit." (Hello. I'd like to buy some bread please. Thank you. I will pay with credit card.)
Armed with these phrases, I ventured out into the crisp Montreal morning, feeling prepared. But real life had other plans.
The Great Script Shattered
My first bakery visit revealed the harsh truth - reality's nuances go beyond YouTube scripts. After confidently delivering my lines, the baker casually asked, "Autre chose?" (Anything else?) Then I froze.
In that moment of panic, I saw three options:
Run out and never return.
Power through my script.
Switch to English, more embarrassed more unknown...
Mustering all I had, I nodded "oui!" and extended my card, leaving with a very awkward interaction and a loaf of bread! Success at last?!
Unscripted Realities
It became clear that the only way to make real progress was to immerse myself despite the discomfort. So I began cataloging phrases no curriculum could provide:
"Autre chose?" (Anything else?)
"Qu'est-q’il y a?" (What do you mean?)
“Ton nom?” (Your name?)
"Tranches?" (Sliced?)
"En grains ou moulu?" (Whole bean or ground?)
“Quel genre de lait ? Lait de vache ou lait végétal ?” (“What type of milk? cow milk or vegan milk?)
I adapted with each stumble, frozen moment of confusion, or frantic transaction. Soon, I developed strategies - what to say in French to clarify, when to switch to English, how to defuse awkwardness with smiles...
In rare times, the Montrealer on the other side recognized my efforts and met me halfway - switching to English or explaining the unfamiliar phrases for me. They saved those awkward moments, like a "Phone a Friend" lifeline, making every hard-earned bite of bread and sip of rich coffee taste extraordinarily well-deserved.
The Cost of Getting There
Putting myself out there required immense bravery. While efforts were sometimes recognized, they could also go completely sideways.
On harried days, my attempts at proper grammar welcomed brusque transitions to English to speed things along. My enthusiastic attempts to recount my day could grind to a halt when someone interrupted to correct my conjugations. Even harmless remarks about speaking too slowly brought significant agony. As much as I tried to keep a straight face, I felt frustration boiling inside.
I desperately wanted to improve and be proud of my progress. However, these encounters challenged my perception of growth. "Am I good at French? Am I good enough?" Striving for advancement, I felt lost.
During those disheartening months, I shifted my effort from speaking to listening. While protecting myself from unsolicited corrections and advice, I didn't stop engaging with French speakers, mostly in Ultimate Frisbee settings.
At first, the rapid flow of conversation sounded like indecipherable noise. Sometimes, I could only recognize them calling my name on the sideline, which brought another rush of panic. But gradually, context emerged, and it started feeling more...natural. I could understand that they were cheering me on, or trashtalking the other team!
Over time, I realized language immersion could happen organically by not forcing perfection but by perceiving and allowing it to happen. The act of opening myself, instead of striving, was its own form of progress.
The Bread and the Bigger Picture
Three years into learning French has changed my life in Montreal. I no longer feel like living in isolation, even though I don't have the command of language as I do for English.
Last week, I ordered coffee with a shocking ease that would have seemed impossible five years ago:
"Avec du lait...?" (With milk?)
"Avec crédit, s'il ta plaît." (With credit, please.)
Each interaction still brings discoveries, but now they amuse/excite rather than terrify me.
So true it takes a lot of courage to put ourselves out there!
Same as my life in Japan!!