Locked out

Tonight I realised how hard (and treacherous) it can be to be living in a country where you don't really speak the language.We got home, in darkness and dropping temperatures, only to find our front door handle had broken and the door could not be opened! The handle has been giving us trouble for the past few weeks and every so often decides to drop off, but can usually be coaxed back on and then is temporarily fine again. Tonight, not so. And, just our luck, our landlords (who conveniently also happen to be our neighbours) are away! For just these kinds of situations, it pays to have your landlord next door, but as luck would have it, when we need it, they aren't.

With the small light provided by our phones, we tried desperately to jiggle the handle of the door back on, but nothing. We resorted to looking at windows, which we were completely happy to climb through, also all locked, and another door around the side, locked as well. (This door also cannot actually be opened, but we were informed by our landlady that it is not working and not going to be fixed because it is too expensive). So, we were stuck and stranded. It was now coming up to half an hour and overnight temperatures in winter are not fun!

My next plan was to find a phone number for a locksmith and get them to come out. Easy when you speak the same language, not so easy for us. Getting the number was no problem, thanks to an iphone and the miracles of google, but trying to explain to them what we needed and understanding what they were saying about why they can't help, was another thing altogether!

I was actually pretty impressed with myself in terms of the conversation. (I, by the way, am the only one who does this talking to french people, never Jonathan!) I start off with the polite, "bon soir" and then quickly go onto stating "parlez vous anglais?" Unanimously, the response was "uhh..no" and we had one "a little..." But, even with the person who spoke "a little" anglais, the result was hopeless. The people I called could cut keys but not fix broken door handles. None of them could direct me to someone who could. Pretty damn good though they I understood the issue about keys (I learnt that word in french class) and was able to (sort of) explain that we needed someone to fix our door, "ouvrez la porte."

About to give up, sitting in our car to keep warm, I decided to try one of the neighbours, none of which we have met yet by the way. Of course, it would only be the woman who tries this one, a man would never go and ask someone for help (heaven forbid!) Luckily, we had me (a woman) and I was prepared to knock on a neighbour's door and beg them for help. Especially in a country where we don't speak the language and don't know the customs and systems about practical things, like getting an emergency locksmiths, I have learnt that you have to put your hand up for help. So, I did.

Walking into a house across the street, I started with an apology and the standard "do you speak english?" line. Naturally, the response was, "uh, no, pardon." No surprises there. But this time it did not stop me. I launched into a story, in simplified english, with the occasional french word thrown in where I knew it, and the occasional miming action, and eventually they understood what the problem was. The lovely man (to who we are forever grateful) came with me to see the situation. With a spanner and a torch and a lot more coaxing and jiggling, the door opened! I really thought we were going to be standing outside all night. And, the best part is, it was going to be all my fault, because I was the one that locked the door on the way out. Interesting though, that I was the one who got the help and I was the one that was doing all the speaking in french on the phone.

No matter how many "merci boucoup" I said, I still could not communicate my thanks to Mr Neighbour (whose name I didn't catch, even though I asked him). Whoever said the french aren't friendly, haven't been to Rue Ciceri in Bourron Marlotte. But, my god, I need to learn some french, it just makes everything so much harder. The upside is that I gain material to write about.

Merci (Mr nice neighbour man),

Mel