PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS?

 

   We had already taken seven pictures when the manager came toward us, glaring accusingly. She was a stolid and serious-looking woman, made even more threatening by the dark circles under her tired eyes and the all-black work clothes she was wearing. From my angle–looking up; I stood just under four feet–her appearance was menacing as she stepped slowly around the front counter, then around the line of Canadians waiting to buy a burger for lunch.
   My mom told my sister and me to ignore the woman, but it became increasingly difficult as she came closer. She stood next to us for a moment before speaking. I could see the tiny golden arches emblem embroidered on her shirt.
   “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to take any more photographs,” she told us. /I just can’t let you do this.”
   Mom was instantly on the defensive: /What’s wrong with taking a few pictures of your menu signs? We just thought it was neat.” She slowed down as she began to understand the absurdity of our motive. /We wanted to have a picture of ! your signs ! in French and English.”
   At this point, Laura and I were unable to control that giggle instinct, so dominant in girls below the age of thirteen. We clutched our disposable Kodak cameras in our small hands and dashed behind a condiment stand. We laughed silently until we caught our breath and finally emerged to find the serious manager walking seriously away from our giddily happy mother.
   The manager had allowed us one picture, which we took in addition to the previous seven. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?
   Luckily, we faced no such trouble at the Burger King. They didn’t seem to think McDonald’s would need spies, so we were just seen as three easily amused and uncultured tourists taking pictures of menu signs that happened to be in two languages.

* * *

   Language is one of the biggest barriers separating modern cultures today. I imagine it is second only to natural land forms. After all, if we can’t communicate, why bother collaborating?
   But here in America, there is an increasing conviction that anyone worth talking to should learn English. So far, our plan hasn’t backfired: Americans don’t put in the effort to learn other languages at the same caliber as most European or Asian countries, and consequently, we can communicate with English in many foreign places. Japanese students attend school for hours unfathomable to the American teen population, and I have no doubt they learn several foreign languages during that time.
   I find it strange that a country formed largely of immigrants who came from all over the world should be one of the most inept at learning foreign languages. But these immigrants believed that America would be the land of Freedom, with streets paved in gold, and consequently fell sitting ducks to the American Way: superiority complexes.
   The American society hasn’t taken the time to become fluent in other languages, most likely since we tend to envision ourselves as /above” foreign cultures. Meanwhile, inversely, we have developed a fascination with all things unfamiliar. Exotic cultures are glamorous, intriguing, mysterious. But doesn’t this sound more like entertainment? Perhaps we aren’t even two-faced; Americans perceive foreign cultures as inferior, but almost foolish—all the world’s a vaudeville stage.

* * *

Later that day, my mom, sister, and I, along with Grandma and Grandpa this time, went to see a unique sculpture on a hill just outside of Montreal. This giant steel cross, painted white and adorned with light bulbs, stood several stories high and was visible from downtown. It probably had a name, but I can’t remember it now. Some things aren’t that important to an eleven-year-old going to see a huge metal anything.
   The trail up to the cross is one of my most vividly remembered scenes from Quebec, mostly because I spend so much time looking around while my grandmother stopped to tie her shoes or my sister sat down to rest. The dirt path was a perfect cinnamon color, and the leaves on the trees were dark green and hung just far enough over to shade the hikers. The walk was long, but the prize was astounding. In photos of the cross, Laura and I were tiny specs in the corner. I had to stand far back to see the entire sculpture at once.
   We passed more hikers on the way down than we had on the way up. There were a few, probably Americans, but the majority were French-speaking Canadians. Their accent was strange to Laura and me. Were they talking gibberish? Any attempts to mimic the sound were quickly silenced by Mom, though we were stared at by Canadians as many times as we children stared at anyone speaking French.
   Eventually, we stopped talking whenever someone else came within earshot. We found that passing hikers did the same. Adults acknowledged each other with a nod and a friendly wave, but other than that, no words were spoken.

* * *

English is a crude and badly-organized language. Most verbs are irregular, and pronunciation of letters can change drastically from word to word. Foreigners have every reason to look down on our language, too, because chances are that theirs is much more graceful.
   I haven’t been to many foreign places, but wherever two different languages are spoken, cultures are sparring. When I find myself in stores owned by immigrants, I shrink back, uncomfortable to hear the proprietors speaking in Hindi or Italian or Russian. I’m sure they’re just as uncomfortable hearing me speak English; they have to struggle to understand what I say to them, and to form sentences to coherently reply.
   Quebec was no exception. My family and I were uneasy around French speakers, and the Canadians looked at us suspiciously when we spoke English. It didn’t matter that English and French were both official languages of Canada. The culture was predominantly French-Canadian, and we were not included in their world.
   Language defines an area because of the citizens’ connection to it. It can also be a clue to travelers regarding their acceptance in the location. We as Americans should open ourselves up to new languages and change our attitudes to other cultures. In a world growing smaller every minute, it is important not to feel superior to fellow human beings, but to feel equal.

 

- Michelle Zimmerman