A single cup of tea and half a piece of cake

I met Marie-Francois at my cooking class. She is a lovely middle-aged French woman who lives with her husband in Fontainebleau. Her adult children are in Paris, where they all used to live before moving down to the countryside. Marie-Francois -lets just call her MF (but could she get a more French name?)is gorgeously French, and oh-so French indeed. Today I had tea with her and spent 2 hours speaking solely in French, but mainly getting by through listening and nodding and throwing in the occasional "oui, d'accord, oui" which is basically what the french continually say in conversation, meaning "yes, ok, yes." There is lots of "d'accord" in French conversations. And, in my case, it makes it sound like I understand what is going on. It's a great trick!

The cooking class both MF and I attend is taught in English, and MF struggles through it, because her English is not very good. (But, leaps and bounds better than my French!) The really adorable thing about MF is that when she explains things or tells a story, in English, it is done in half mine and half "how do you say..."language, with lots of hand actions and demonstrations. For example, she explained how she makes her own mayonnaise without any real words, just lots of hand gestures and mimes to show peeling eggs, chopping them, adding the oil and so on. It is amazing how communication can still happen without words. Sometimes, tricky and always hilarious, but still possible.I think I got how to make MF's mayonnaise.

So, last week I mentioned to MF her that I am learning French but am not very good, and she offered for me to come over to her house for tea and French speaking. That is what I did this afternoon. I am pretty impressed with myself, firstly, for going along with the offer (most unlike me), then for being able to follow (ok, some bits) of the conversations, but most importantly for giving it a go and saying a couple of sentences and phrases. Look, I probably sounded like a five year old with a mild learning disability, but at least I gave it a shot. It is bloody hard to just speak!

We had tea and cake in the salon, a glorious old-world lounge room filled with antiques, and drank proper tea out of sweet little tea cups. Everything about it was so quaint and proper. I had to contain myself from eating the cake with my fingers, and of course, didn't finish it or accept the offer for a second cup of tea. (At home, I have about 4 cups of tea and always, read always, pick at my food - it is almost my signature style. I pick at crumbs and slivers, because then I don't feel as though I am consuming as many calories - ridiculous, I know!)

Of course, I couldn't be as chatty, personable and opinionated as I am in English,and it was pretty alienating at times. She probably thought I was shy and perhaps a little stupid - only answering in a single sentence, and then saying "Ok, ok, yes, yes" a lot. But, if invited again, I'm definitely going to go back to MF's house. Just listening to the French, even if I couldn't understand it, was wonderful. It made me feel like I was in France. And, who knows, maybe I'll learn a thing or two about when to really say, "d'accord" and how to really only want to eat half the cake.

The best part is that when I told MF that I am writing, she said (in her adorable Franglesh) "maybe, we will be in your stories" - and she so made it in!

Merci,

Mel