Paris French speak: Accent and Josephine Baker

Having just spent an evening with a nice and good looking French guy who speaks bloody awful English with an accent that was moving further away from ‘cute’ as the evening progressed and not understanding more than half of what he said, I was glad to be home listening to Nina Simone. For all I know I might have missed the most romantic declaration of love ever made by one of the most good looking guys I know (hey, I could dream). The worst part was that he thought he spoke pretty good English and got annoyed when I asked him to repeat what he said (or he would just look at me as if I had just said the cutest but nonetheless the dumbest thing EVER and not repeat what he said). More French people now speak (or more precisely are more willing to speak) English than before (personal experience), especially among the young. And many have pretty good accent and sometimes surprisingly really good accent (resulting from watching American or British movies and tv series). But not the guy that I was with tonight. Words simply got stuck in his mouth and just would not roll out as they should. I finally figured out he was saying “casual” after he said it about 30 times (it sounded to me like “cashow” when he said it…I guessed cashew? Cash cow?). This got me thinking to the days when I did not speak French…
I remember when I could not spit the French words out of my mouth..the sensation being that these words were clunking around my head (admittedly a big cavity when I had to think in French in those days) and to get them out was a big effort, let alone getting them out correctly. It’s like I needed lubricant. Lots of it too. But the worst part probably was the fatigue that I felt when I got home in the evening. I felt as if I had spoken and done hard labor all day. It was such a relief to have found my Anglo friend in a café and to just blab without any cognitive effort and, especially, to be able to express yourself like an adult and not like a verbally constipated 4 year old. This I found extremely frustrating as indeed I counted myself as one of the better students in my French course at the Alliance Française in Melbourne. Yet, there I was, not able to understand a word people were saying here (nor could they me apparently: I booked a ticket with Air France to Nimes in the south of France, and when I went to pick up my ticket I found out that they had booked me on a flight to Niamey instead!).
The thing that amazes me a lot is how my personality seems to change when I express myself in French or in English. In English, I fancy myself a bit of a raconteur that could spin a boring story into an interesting and intriguing one (especially about sexual escapades). In French, though, my goal was reduced to just being understood (rather than being liked, or being considered funny, forget about being adored), and I have developed the habit of trying to find the simplest way of expressing myself (just a step above Tarzan and two above Cheetah I guess) because it was too complex of a cognitive activity to speak pretty and be understandable at the same time. It does not surprise me that my French friends have a totally different image of me than my English friends. Given that how you see yourself is determined in no small
degree by how those around you see you, I have tried to narrow the gap of how my French and my Anglo friends see me if only to keep myself sane (I was beginning to think that I might have multiple personalities…the demure demoiselle for my French friends and the sicko for my English speaking friends). And having always been a worry wart, I not only worry about errors (grammar, conjugation etc.) but also about my accent. Unlike my friend tonight, apparently.
Talking about accent, one of the comforting thought I held on to was that it would come naturally once one spends enough time speaking French. This was cruelly disproved when I met an American who had lived here a hell of a long time and you could still tell he was American the moment he opens his mouth. People may still chuckle when I pronounce certain words….though I notice people are also starting to appreciate foreign accents here in Paris. The best complement I had was when someone told me I spoke like Josephine Baker! Well, ok, if I could never sound like any François, Jean-Claude or Jean-Michel when I speak French, might as well be compared to a grand diva right?