LJ Idol Week 16: The Streisand Effect
I think my husband has taken for granted that I don't speak French fluently. Yes, I took four years in high school, and I keep studying. I can read a good bit of French, but speaking and listening are a lot harder for me, mostly because I've been taught with an American accent. Pronunciation is hard, and I'm still getting used to their accents.
My husband's parents don't speak English at all, so when we visit them, they mostly speak French. I remember being so proud of myself when we first met — I understood a phrase his mother had said.
She had said, "Il aime le chat." Which means, "He loves the cat."
Yeah, yeah, anyone who uses Duolingo for even an hour can understand that. But it was still the first phrase I ever understood outside of the traditional greetings, so it meant a lot to me. And until recently, it was the only phrase I ever picked up on from their conversations.
Sevan usually has to translate for me, which I know can be a bit tiresome. He's a champ about it though. Not everything translates easily though, and I often still feel confused, like I'm missing important details. Sometimes I find myself zoning out, which I know is terrible since I need to learn, but it's hard to make things out when they just speak so dang fast. Even phrases I might normally know, there's no chance of me being able to understand it with a strong French accent and how fast they speak. Also, the French language is musical — words flow together to form a rhythm, which is why it sounds so beautiful. Depending on the word following the first, you may not pronounce the last letter or you might, but it flows into the next one. It's really cool honestly, but impossible to make out individual words when you're still learning.
However, as I learned recently when you become determined enough — anything is possible.
Sevan told me that he had a surprise for me being delivered to his parent's house for the wedding last Saturday. He went to great lengths to keep it a secret, and only told me because there were issues with delivery, and he was having to step away to make phone calls. I teased him saying he could likely talk about the surprise right in front of me, and I wouldn't even understand what it was about as long as he spoke in French. So I blame myself for what happens later. I gave him a sense of false confidence. He still snuck away to take the calls though, just to be safe.
Friends, let me just give you some background information on me. I LOVE surprises. I don't care how big or small they are, I love them. But I'm a natural at spoiling them for myself. It never fails, even though I try not to spoil myself, I always manage to do so. Mostly because I can't help it — I think about it and think about it, and look for clues and pick up on things I wouldn't otherwise have you not told me there was a surprise. Seriously, if you want to surprise me, don't even tell me there's a surprise. Keep the surprise a surprise if you know what's good for you (and me) because I will suddenly become fixated on the surprise and figure it out.
Case in point, the wedding surprise.
On the day of the wedding, we were at his parent's house before heading out to lunch. The ceremony was over — it was a quick town hall ceremony where we got married by the mayor. We, of course, had a translator because I can't understand anything.
Sevan and I were in the kitchen and he casually said something to his dad in French.
A phrase I shouldn't have been able to pick up since he said it quickly and mixed it in with other French I couldn't make out.
But I made out the one, important phrase.
"Ou est le gateau?"
Again, let me give you some back story here. When we initially decided to get married, he asked me to list the three things that I wanted most at my wedding. Since we were essentially eloping, most traditions had to go right out the window. But he wanted to make sure I was happy.
I told him — I wanted my family and friends to celebrate with me, I wanted to wear a pretty dress that made me feel good about myself, and I wanted American-style cake because I'm a girl who loves cake.
But here's where we ran into problems. My family and friends couldn't be there for this ceremony. My mom has never flown and refuses to out of fear, and she's immunocompromised, so it wouldn't be safe for her to travel right now. My niece who's like a sister to me is in the last weeks of her pregnancy, so flying is a no-go. And again, we couldn't afford to pay for them, and they certainly couldn't afford to pay for themselves — they can barely afford to eat most months.
So that was out. Sevan instead offered to have a wedding back in the United States at a later date, when money wasn't so tight for us too. Weddings in France are required to be held in the town hall. It's a separation of church and state — you must get your marriage recognized by the government in what most people consider a paper signing. Most people have a more personal ceremony afterward at a church or other location of their choice, ours just happens to be much later — and in a different country.
My next wish for the wedding — a pretty dress. Well, we didn't have much time to go dress shopping since most wedding dresses need at least 3-6 months to be made. We weren't sure when the town hall would approve our paperwork, we were going to get married the first date they allowed us, so I needed to get a dress fast. I ordered one online, and Sevan was happy to pay for it. It was a pretty dress, but I'm going to admit, it wasn't flattering for my body and gave me a bad case of body dysmorphia. But we didn't have time to change it, so I went with it.
And lastly, the cake. Cake isn't that common here in France. Many French people don't like them and prefer pastries instead. At weddings, they usually serve a cream puff tower instead. That's their tradition, and while yummy, it isn't a wedding cake.
I can't help it. I'm a chubby gal with a sweet tooth, and when I think of weddings, I think of cake. And when I've had French cakes, it wasn't the same. It's still more pastry-like. The frosting is totally different. It's more like a cream. Very lightly flavored, not too sweet. Not much flavor. The cake itself is flakier too — like a pastry, which they excel at here in France. But again, it's not really cake in my opinion — at least not what I think of when I think of cake.
But with everything else going on, I honestly forgot all about the cake. I just assumed it wouldn't happen.
Until, of course, I heard that phrase, "Ou est le gateau?"
Which for those who don't understand French, it translates to, "Where is the cake?"
And it clicked! I finally understood spoken French. I was proud of myself, even if it meant I ruined a surprise. I didn't say anything, of course. I kept the knowledge to myself, not wanting Sevan to feel bad about ruining the surprise. I am a pro at pretending to be surprised since I usually spoil myself. This wasn't my first rodeo.
As well-meaning as it was, it came to bite me in the butt later though.
After lunch but before cake, his sweet sister turned to me and asked, in English, "Have you seen the cake yet?"
Over my shoulder, Sevan was making the zip-it motion, and his sister realized, "Oh crap, is it a surprise?"
"Not anymore," he said.
His sister was so apologetic and she felt so terrible about it, which is why I had to admit I already knew about the cake.
"Sweetie, it wasn't your sister that had ruined the surprise — it was you."
He seemed surprised, so I had to confess everything. I had to admit that I was wrong before when I told him he could talk openly about the surprise without me understanding what he was saying.
Apparently, I know more French than I gave myself credit for, and I am finally able to understand when people are speaking it around me. Which is very good. We're both really proud of that.
However, of all the phrases for that realization to hit, it had to be the one that ruined the surprise.
But it's all good because we had cake. Cake fixes everything. It was an American-style cake at that, which isn't easy to find here in France and I was probably the only one who liked it.
But even though I knew about the cake beforehand, it didn't make it any less sweet.
In fact, le gateau was tres tres bon.