En français s'il vous plaît...

I confess that my ability to speak and read French has grown rusty through disuse over the years.  This is a shame considering all the time I spent studying the language throughout high school.  I blame my college advisor for this, at least in part.  During my freshman conference (my one and only conference with my college advisor) he noted that I had four years of French on my transcript and recommended that I try for a BA.  This was good advice.  Next he suggested that I should "broaden my horizons" by switching to study of a new language, German.  As it turns out, I hated German; hated studying it; hated reading it; hated trying to twist my throat and tongue around speaking it; and not by any means the least consideration, hated the instructor who taught it and gave me 'Cs' and 'Ds' in retaliation for my rebellion against all things Teutonic.  The only thing I acquired from my study of German was a lower GPA and a couple of handy phrases I memorized (I can order beer in German, ask where the tourist bureau is, and inquire whether a fraulein is game for some sex).  German was a diversion from my first amour, French.  In my sophomore year I abandoned plans for a BA settling instead for a BS and discontinued my studies in foreign languages in any formal sense. 

Today I can still speak a little French, and I'm pretty good at ordering from a menu of a restaurant serving French cuisine (which is among my favorites).  Over the years I have enjoyed the good fortune of having several French adventures, not the least of which was actually traveling to France in the summer after high school graduation and celebrating my 18th birthday in Paris.  Let me relate two of those adventures.

The tour group to France of which I was a member spent a little over a week in Paris split into two separate stays.  First we resided a few days at the Hotel Henri Quatre on the Ile de la Cité in central Paris, just a few yard from Notre Dame Cathedral.  Next we toured various points of interest throughout the country (ask me later about missing the train to Tours) before returning to Paris for a few days more.  On this second stay, the Henri Quatre was all booked up, so instead we found accommodations in the Hotel Chatelais located in the Place Chatelais.  (Incidentally, this is a very nice hotel which I would readily recommend to anyone traveling to Paris).  One night in mid June there was a festival of sorts along the Seine river which was a few blocks from our hotel.  I strolled down to the river with a few of the young ladies from our tour group for a walk and to enjoy the sights and lingered rather late into the evening.  Upon making our way back to the hotel, we found ourselves embarrassingly misdirected among the narrow confusing streets and darkness of night.  I did not panic because I knew we could only be a few blocks from our hotel at most, and because I could speak the language rather well.  Nearby I spied a man closing up a shop for the night, so I approached him for directions. 

"Excusez moi monsieur, ou peut on trouver le Place du Chatelais?" I asked (excuse me sir, where can one find Chatelais Square?)

"Que vous cherche?" he replied (What are you looking for?)

"Le Place du Chatelais" I repeated (Chatelais square)

And then the shop keeper said to me, "go down this street two blocks, turn left and go another block, you can't miss it".

Not only did the shop keeper speak better French than me, he probably spoke better English too.  "Merci" I said to him in parting.

My next little anecdote en français did not take place in France but rather in Cincinnati (a large midwest German city; and you know now how I feel about that).  I was working for a manager who I liked pretty well because of his good nature, but this did not prevent me from plying my trade in notorious pranks from time to time.  (One time I asked him if he wanted some coffee, and when he said "yes, I would" I held out my cup and asked if he would get me some coffee too).  This particular manager was dating a woman that he really liked and wanted to impress.  Knowing that I spoke a bit of French, he approached me and asked if I would teach him some French so that he could impress his new girlfriend.  This opportunity for mischief was too good to pass up. 

I taught my manager the phrase, "votre mère fait l'amour avec les soldats".  I told him that it meant, "you are a wise and trusted friend".  I made him repeat it several times to ensure that he had the pronunciation down, just so.

This of course is not a correct translation.  For my friends that are francophone, try not to be too shocked and remember that I have a bit of a devious sense of humor.  For those who don't understand French, well let's just say that this is not something one says in polite company. 

Anyway, I know for a fact that the woman didn't understand French at all.  After he used it on her, she married him.