Excuse My French

“Je voudrais deux crêpes. Jambon, de fromage et de tomate.”

“Deux?”

“Qui.”

I was proud of myself. It had taken me an entire day to screw up enough nerve to use my sparse French to order a simple meal at a Crepe stand. Finally, I forced myself.

“Voulez-vous du sel et du poivre?” asked the cook?

“Qui.” (you can't have eggs without salt and pepper).

I was ordering crepes with ham, cheese and tomato. They looked amazing. Mae had never had one and Montemarte, we were told, was the best place to try them.

While the cook poured the batter, Mae stood up on a ledge to watch.

“Oh! it looks like a big pancake,” she said.

Without changing expression the woman spoke to us in English.

“You speak English?” Mae asked, surprised.

The woman explained that, to work in Montemarte, it is necessary to speak four – even five – languages.

“Well!” said Mae, grinning. “So she didn’t have to use her fake French after all.”

I was deflated.

You may as well stick me with a fork.