"Oh, you're not French?"

           One thing I have come to learn is that whenever I do laundry on Sunday by myself, something interesting always happens.  These days at the Laundromat are never boring.  One afternoon, as I was throwing my dirty laundry into the washer, the man next to me asked for help.  I guess the explanatory signs on the wall aren’t helpful enough.   Sometimes it makes me feel smart that me, a foreigner, has to explain in French to a French person how to use the machines.  I suppose my accent gave me away, because afterwards he asked, “Oh, you’re not French?” – Which is a question I get a lot after a stranger asks me for something.  We ended up talking until our laundry finished, which was a good opportunity for me to practice my French.  He wanted to practice his English too, so occasionally he would mix it up and throw out some English sentences.  He told me many interesting things about his family, his travels, and his job selling lamp parts.

            Next laundry day, a similar thing happened; except this time, I was never asked if I was a foreigner.  A lady walked into the Laundromat and wandered around looking confused, but didn’t even attempt to read the instructions on the wall.  Even when I keep to myself with my head in a book while waiting for my laundry, I apparently still look like the one to ask for help out of the ten other people there.  She walked up to me and asked if I could show her how to use the machines because she had never been there before.  However, because she had so much laundry, she had to use the large washer, which was different from the ones I was accustomed to using – Which means I was reading the directions and figuring it out as I was explaining it to her.  (Who’s the foreigner again?)  Then I had to show her how to buy soap from the machine, which I had never done before either.   By that point, I realized I wasn’t showing her anymore; I was practically doing her laundry for her.  She just gave me money to buy the soap, and then after I put the soap in the machine, she gave me more money to start the washer.   What makes this story more interesting is that, while she was watching me start her laundry, she had left her purse unattended and someone grabbed some cash from it and took off.  But not to worry, the thief didn’t get very far before the lady stopped her and took the money back.  What can I say? – Another eventful day at the Laundromat.

 

            The next time I went to do laundry, I was prepared to once again explain the machines to someone, but it ended up being just a boring laundry day.  Or so I thought.  As I was walking to the bus stop to go back home, two guys walking a ways ahead of me turned around and one of them yelled something.  I thought for sure it was directed at someone behind me, but I turned around to check and no one was there.  As I walked closer, I asked him to repeat what he had said.  It was some joke that I didn’t understand. I guess I should have laughed at it anyways to avoid that all too familiar question that came next: “Oh, you’re not French?”   Once I was given away as a foreigner, we talked for a few minutes and I answered all the usual questions:  Where are you from? How do you like France? Where do you live and go to school? Why did you choose to study French? etc.   Usually I’m more than happy to have these conversations, but this one caused me to miss my bus, on a Sunday when buses don’t run very often.   When they asked where I was going and I told them the bus stop, they insisted on accompanying me.  Once we got to the stop and saw that the next bus didn’t come for forty minutes, these 18 year old guys decided they needed to wait with me so I wouldn’t be left alone in the dark.  We talked about many things, and I took this opportunity to interview them for the memoir I had to write. Turned out to be, again, another interesting laundry day.

            When I talk to people, they don’t always say, “Oh, you’re not French?” but sometimes I know they’re thinking it - I can read it on their face; especially after I use a word in the incorrect context.  For example, when I was at the post office and tried to order 20 stamps, but asked for 20 “carnets” instead of 20 “timbres.”   I can only imagine what they were thinking when I requested 20 booklets of stamps.  Though instead of asking why I needed so many stamps, they just asked if I meant 20 “timbres.”  At the time, I didn’t know this word, but I said yes anyways.  I swear that I had learned “stamp” was “carnet” in French.  Oh well, at least I can now order individual stamps correctly.

               

                I learn something new every day in France.  Whether it’s a new French word, or the life story of a stranger I meet at the Laundromat.