I've Already Broken Something

The past few months I have made a serious effort to learn as much French as possible.

And by serious effort I mean I've done a few Rosetta Stone things and listened to 30 podcasts in my sleep.  (I thought it would help when I listened to them for real if I had already slept to them, because the French would be in my brain.  But I only ever listened to a few of them in real life. This is why I'm only able to count and say, "Je suis prête pour apprender le français avec Coffee Break French.")

I also put up post it notes all over my house with the French word of different items.  I didn't think I would ever really need to know that hallway was couloir or that a kitchen sink was un évier, but I felt like I was practicing my French when I would walk into my bathroom and think salle de bain.

As it turns out, these are not the most effective methods for learning a language.

For example, this morning I got on a plane from Brussels to Lyon.  Everyone welcomed me with bonjour's and au revoir's and I responded like a pro with some merci's and even a couple pardon's.

And then I got to my window seat, looked at the kid in the middle and said, "Umm, I have to, that's my, uhh, seat."

He looked up, said something in French, and moved for me.  Which is when I realized I don't actually speak very much French.

Later, I arrived at the train station looking around for my host mom.  I saw her sitting on a bench - and checked the picture on my phone to make sure it was really her - and then awkwardly stood there trying to figure out how to say, "Excuse me, are you my mother?" in French.

Luckily, my real host mom showed up before I had the chance to embarrass myself.

We spoke French as she drove me to her apartment, and I was by no means fluent, but I thought a three-year-old and I could probably have a pretty good conversation.

Then came the bathroom.

All I wanted to do was brush my teeth.  I had been on a plane or in an airport for 20 hours and they were in desperate need of some attention.  Unfortunately, my shampoo had exploded all over my toothbrush and toothpaste (don't worry, this is all relevant to the story).  So I went into the bathroom and had to rinse off all of the shampoo in a very small sink, which apparently does not drain.

I brushed my teeth anyway, hoping that the water would drain while I brushed.  But then I had to spit into the already full sink (which is now full of shampoo and toothpaste and a whole lot of water).  I took the plug out and still nothing happened.  I then thought maybe there was some sort of special thing under the sink that would make it drain, so I turned a few things before I had the sense to stop.  I mean, what if I had pulled the pipe out of the wall and flooded the bathroom?

I sat there embarrassed for a few minutes - I had only been in their house for 2 minutes and already I had broken the bathroom sink.  Luckily, though, bathroom sink was one of my flashcards.  I went downstairs torn between embarrassment and excitement at getting to use one of my French flashcard words.

Then, I got to the kitchen and realized I could not remember how to say bathroom sink.  I also don't know how to say water.  So I stuttered - in English - about the sink before saying, "It's like the évier, except in the bathroom."

In the end, they had to call a plumber to fix the sink.  That's right - I broke the bathroom sink so well they had to call someone to fix it.

Now my wardrobe won't close.  I've messed with the key a few times before giving up.  I don't know who you call to fix a wardrobe, but I think I'll wait until tomorrow before I break it.  Also, I checked - it does not lead to Narnia.

By the way - lavabo.  The bathroom sink is un lavabo.