Traveling to a foreign country is both fascinating and terrifying in one aspect – all of the communication is done in a foreign language! When the Olsons traveled to Switzerland to visit Phillip and Melissa, we knew we would be communicating in a different language. As you are aware if you have read Phillip’s blog, there are four official languages in Switzerland. Phillip and Dan both took German at good old FHS (which is one of the languages of Switzerland), while Mike, Kevin, and Ann all took Spanish. But unfortunately for all of them, French is the language for the area of Switzerland that we would be visiting.
AHEM, I had studied French in high school. So, I thought I was set for our trip. For the everyone else to pick up a little French: Dan and Ann listened to Rosetta Stone, Wayne got a French language tape from the library (it was children’s songs in French; so, whenever we would happen to hear a child’s song he would know some of the words), Mike prepared by watching an episode or two of the Simpsons in French with English subtitles, and Kevin thought he would rely on Phillip and Melissa. I think Kevin had the correct idea….
Our first experience communicating in French went OK. We landed at Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris and had to go through customs before catching our plane to Geneva, Switzerland. It was fairly easy to follow the line of fellow travelers to customs, especially since they had all boarded in Minneapolis and spoke English. At the customs counter my agent spoke a word that is the same in French as English, when he mumbled “passport”. He then flipped open to a page and stamped it, as he stifled a yawn. I don’t think he even looked at me – must have been close to break time or something. I could then read enough French so we able to follow signs that lead to our gate. And I was able to understand enough of the announcements to know when our plane was boarding. Whew, the first leg went well. I was feeling pretty darn good about my High School French!
It felt a little stranger on our smaller plane from Paris to Geneva. The flight and safety instructions were given in both French and English, but I could tell most of the passengers were not American and the flight staff spoke mainly French. But that all went OK and when we left the plane to collect our luggage, we found our luggage with no problems. We were going to meet Phillip in Geneva at the train station. We didn’t know if the train station was close by, or we needed to get into Geneva. Dan found a kiosk that gave out tickets from the airport to the main station in Geneva for no charge. But, when we left the secured part of the airport, we saw Phillip waiting for us. Boy, it was nice to see him and have him expedite the trip to Lausanne and their apartment – especially after 9 hours of travel!
Our time in Switzerland and most of Paris went great with Phillip and Melissa as our translators. And in Switzerland, all of the train announcements are made in French and then English. That was really, really nice. I was a bit surprised that many of the Swiss did not speak English. For some reason I thought they would be a little more bi-lingual. They were very pleasant though. We did have a few episodes where our translators were not around. It was kind of fun to buy food, or other supplies in stores. There seemed like there was always one young clerk who knew a little English and was more than willing to practice it. Or, if no one spoke English, they were very patient with our limited French.
Kevin had an interesting elevator ride at the apartment building. He rode up with one of Phillip and Melissa’s neighbors who was chatting with him the entire time – only he was talking in French and Kevin had no idea what he was saying. You can go a long way with a smile and nod…
Wayne, Mike and I had our experience up in the Alps. We decided that a morning of skiing was plenty for our level of skiing and took the cog rail down the mountain. We ended up in a different spot in the village than where we caught our ski tram. Phillip was still on the mountain skiing and Melissa was back in her lab doing research, so it was up to me to get us on familiar ground! I asked the people around the train station if they knew where the rental store was, I even showed them the logo on my ski, but no one had any idea. They also did not speak English. Finally, the train conductor looked at the rental logo on my ski and pointed at the train and said something in French and broken English. Through my extensive 2 years of high school French, I was able to ascertain that he meant we should take the train. So, we boarded the train.
When we left the village we were in and went up the mountain to another small village, we knew we were in the wrong spot. We got off the train and saw the information sign for a travel center. Unfortunately the center was closed for lunch, but would open soon. We waited. When it opened, I went in and spoke the magic words I had learned in my French class –“Parlez Anglais?” (do you speak English?) She shook her head “no”. OH NO!! Well, it turned out that she did speak a tiny, tiny bit. And with my tiny, tiny bit of French I was able to ask for a map and pointed out where we wanted to go. She told us with a bit of hand gestures and pointing at the map that we needed to get back on the train and then could walk. I told her that Mike had a sore leg (although I actually said he had a “mal tete” which is a headache. But I was pointing to my leg, so she got the point. We both had a laugh over that one:) She told us we could catch a bus at the train station to bring us to the rental store. Since I am writing this from America, you can probably guess that we made it back OK.
When we did get our skis turned into the rental place, we even ventured out to a restaurant and ordered deux bieres (2 beers). (Wayne actually ordered, so I guess he learned a little more from that tape of children’s songs than I thought he did) Mike also managed to order a bowl of ice cream – so the Simpson’s episodes in French came in handy too.
When we were in Paris, most of the clerks or ticket people were very helpful and if we tried to order in French, they told us how much we owed in English. We had heard stories of how rude the Parisians are, but we did not find that at all.
A funny episode happened to me on a very, very crowded train in Paris. All of the other Olsons had found a seat and left me standing and hanging on to a bar by the door. (In truth, I actually wasn’t paying attention when they all sat down.) At one stop, a man boarded at the very last moment with a few bags of luggage. He was so very happy to have made it on the train that he was telling his story to everyone. Of course it was all in French. He went on and on, and the Parisians just gave him a sideways look, rolled their eyes and ignored him. He did go on and on. I was looking at him, so he ended up telling just me about his adventures. And he went on and on. When he was getting his bags together again to disembark at the next station, I leaned over and said to the younger woman next to me “No parle Francais” (I don’t speak French). She looked at me in surprise and then started to shake with laughter. Ah, French humor.
Wayne, Mike and I also ordered ice cream without Melissa and Phillip. We did end up with some interesting flavors…
Ann had a different experience. When she was walking the boulevards with her man, Dan, she would have people come up to her and ask her directions or other questions in French. I guess Dan and Ann looked like they belonged in Paris.
The time that we really missed Melissa and Phillip and their translator ability was when we left them at our Paris apartment and were going to ride the train to the airport. We got to the correct subway platform and saw that our train was going to be a little late. We had left in plenty of time, so we weren’t concerned about that. Then there was an announcement over the PA. Of course this was all in French, and in Paris, there was no follow-up announcement in English. Some of the travelers left. We looked around wondered what the announcement was about. We looked at the screen and saw that the train was now going to be even a little bit later.
Hmmm. There was then another announcement over the PA in French. People were starting to murmur. I heard some fellow travelers talking with a Canadian accent AND they had a maple leaf patch sewn onto their backpack. I went over and asked if they were from Canada and knew what the announcement was about. It turns out they were from Toronto, were going to Charles de Gaulle airport also, and most importantly, spoke French (Thank God for Canadians!). They said there was an accident and the train would be late, but they didn’t think it affected our train. So we waited again.
Ann asked when we should think about taking a taxi. And then there was another announcement over the PA in French. I was really wishing that Phillip and Melissa were around. This time more people (American tourists) crowded around our new best friends, the Canadians. One of them ended up talking to the train authorities and found that we all needed to catch the train to Charles de Gaulle airport at another subway station further up the line. All of the Americans and Canadians then traipsed up the stairs and to a different platform to get to the other subway station.
When we arrived at the new station, we saw on the screen that our train should be coming very, very soon. The screen then changed and said the train would be 10 minutes late. Then the screen said our train would be 20 minutes late. There was another announcement in French. The Canadians said the announcement said there was an accident involving a person and our train would be delayed.
I finally listened to Ann and we decided to catch a cab to the airport. When we went up the stairs to the street level, we saw a sign for taxis and followed that out. Ann found us a minivan type cab that we could all fit into. Of course, in the stereotypical cab fashion, our cabbie was not a native. He was from Madigascar and spoke English. Whew! He got us to the airport in record time and we were able to make it through customs and security with no further language issues.
Traveling to a foreign country and trying to communicate is actually kind of fun in a weird way. It seems like people, as a general rule, like to act like they are in control and know what they are doing. You kind of have to get over that. You are going to make mistakes and say the wrong thing or pronounce words incorrectly. The native people are just happy that you are trying and respect their culture enough to make an effort. It really does help to have some of the basic phrases down (especially “do you speak English?”!!)