HarleyDad and the Parisien Taxi Driver

HarleyDad fell in love with Paris.

I agree with the citizens of Paris-everything in Paris is the most beautiful. The Parisien food is the finest, the Louve is the best, the women the most beautiful, the people from the Sorbonne the best educated, the French cigarettes the stongest, the coffee and croissants to die for, and the French language the most beautiful of all languages. Paris has the greatest architecture, and it is probably the most romantic city of the world. As a result of my enlightened viewpoint, most Parisiens and I get along quite well being in agreement about so many things. Generally, I do not attempt to murder the beautiful French language, and most Frenchmen are delighted that I do not make the attempt. To the French, it is better not to try at all than to try to speak French and fail.

So Sparkie, when you speak French, you better do it like a Frenchman, and preferably like someone in Paris. Also you better not look like an American. Now when I go to France, I go with humility. I admit that I do not speak French, I hide my ability to read it. I oooh, and ahhhh, and love everything French---and admit that I am an uneducated and unenlightened barbarian. The French, who are a merciful people, generally extend a helping hand and all goes well. I do love Paris!

Ahhh, but when they know you are an American and that you are trying to speak French, rest assured your French will never be good enough as proven by the following story.

I was doing an acquisition in Paris. It is true that HarleyDad sometimes disguises himself as an International Lawyer. I was in Paris. Accompanying me was another attorney who had been in the foreign service and had been stationed in Paris for seven years before going to law school. He was quite fluent in French and knowlegeable about the City. The third person with us was an attorney from Coudert Cie, a law firm in Paris. This individual is a native of Paris, having grown up there, being educated at the Sorbonne, etc. etc.

We are switching back in forth from French to English as we enter a cab, and the Parissien cab driver hears us. Our native French attorney gives instructions to the cab driver. Now the cab driver has heard him talking English and assumes he is just another American attorney talking French.

The cab driver turns around to the native French attorney and asks him in English to please repeat his instructions in English because the cab driver who a native Frenchman can not under the attorneys efforts at French.

Our French native attorney explodes. He showers the cab driver with an offering of French explicatives, that had more courses than a gormet meal at the Golden Snail in Paris. The cab driver begins to apologize profusely in French and takes us immediately to where he had first been instructed.

It was then that I had an epiphany-that no matter how good your French was it would not be good enough if you were though to be an American. Even a native of Paris, trained at the Sorbonne, and working at the leading law firm in Paris, would good enough French if they thought he was an American.

You gotta love the French.

Another amazing but true story from HarleyDad.