A demain?

Last weekend I jumped onto the Eurostar in Paris and two hours later was not only on the other side of the Channel, but I was back in language heaven. As the train poked through the other end, out of the darkness, I literally saw the light at the end of the tunnel (pardon the awful cliche but it is so spot on here). It is only a two hour train ride away but yet I felt like I had gone home for a weekend, road signs suddenly became understandable, messages in the station comprehensible, and speaking and making requests for things no longer embarrassing and difficult. Yes, I was in London, and I suddenly felt relaxed even under grey skies and drizzle. After two days and on my way back to France, even from the moment I sat down in my seat in carriage 18 heading in the direction of Gare de Nord, I realised how difficult a situation I am in. I'm not complaining, not saying it is not wonderful and exciting to be living in France, but it is difficult, and anyone who has done it will tell you the same thing.

About an hour ago, now firmly back in the land of croissants, I called a restaurant, our local bisto, to make a reservation for dinner tomorrow night. Now this is a routine I have mastered, I have the standard saying down-pat. "Je voudrais faire une réservation pour demain soir." I even understand it, and most of the standard questions that follow: how many people, what time, what's your name... still, all good. But there's always a hitch, in every conversation, something to remind me that I don't really belong here, can't really communicate or get by.

The woman on the other end of the phone had finished asking all the typical questions, we had a table for four people (correct) booked for tomorrow night (right date) but the time was the stumbling block. I asked for 8.30pm, or "vingt heur et demi." The woman repeated the information back at me and I couldn't tell if she said "vingt heur" or "vingt heur demi". She spoke so fast that I missed the last bit of her sentence. With courage, I tried to ask her, repeated the line, but she mumbled something quickly that of course went right over my head. "A demain" she said, "see you tomorrow." Yes, see you tomorrow. I guess we will be going for 8.15 to play it safe.

I can laugh about it because nothing serious is at stake when you're booking a reservation at the local bistro, and it's all part of the experience, right? But,it's hard, it is bloody hard existing in a world where you are not understood and not able to explain. Dreary London was easy, albeit not that exotic for an Australian, but sometimes god dammit you just want it to be easy.

Merci,
Mel