My father, who speaks English with a distinct Bulgarian accent, once remarked that "the language connects, the accent divides." While I always thought that was a clever saying, I never fully understood or appreciated those words until I came to Paris.
Yes, I do speak French with an American accent, but I don't think that I sound as awful as some other Americans that I've encountered while in the "City of Light." My favorite faux pas was an American woman who asked a salesclerk at a bookstore, "Parlez-vous anglaise?" which literally means, "Do you speak Englishwoman?" The clerk, dumbfounded, replied with the typical French shrug of the shoulders and said, "Je ne comprends pas, madame" (I don't understand, ma'am).
I've read that the French can distinguish someone who isn't French by the way he walks or the way he stands while waiting for the metro, but I don't think it is as complicated as that. All I have to do is say a word or a sentence and I'm set apart as a foreigner.
I spent several years learning the language in high school and college and countless hours listening to French music and watching French movies. I also took two phonetics courses to help improve my pronunciation. Yet no matter how hard I try to mask it, people realize that French is not my native language. If I had a Euro for every time a Parisian started speaking to me in English, I'd be living in a suite with a panoramic view of Paris.
This is frustrating. Although I politely say, "Parlez-moi en fran?ais s'il vous pla?t," (Speak to me in French, please) after which they generally switch to French, I am always left with the feeling that my French is inferior and that I'll never be able to speak with the confidence and grace that I strive so hard to attain every day.
Having an accent is the equivalent of having a scar. It will probably never go away and it is easily noticed. Yet, during this past month and a half, I've realized that I have to swallow a lot of my pride when it comes to learning this language. No matter how many unfamiliar words, phrases and idioms I write down and define in my little notebook reserved for that purpose, there will always be a term or expression that I won't know. I have to accept that I won't know everything there is to know after four months or even four years. The best I can do is take advantage of each lesson, book and conversation to learn as much as I can.
However, I am not traumatized by my accent. On the contrary, it can have its advantages. In my efforts to meet and interact with French people, I joined a student-run organization that brings together French and international students for pronunciation workshops and conversation exchanges. I met a student there who had learned English in school but never really had the chance to practice it with native speakers. Last Saturday, she and I spent the afternoon speaking both French and English while strolling the boulevards and lounging in a caf?. At one point in the conversation, she told me that she found my American accent "mignon" (cute), so who knows? If I play my cards right, I may end up feeling a bit less out of place in "Paris, la ville d'amour."
On another occasion, my accent probably got me out of the most bizarre situation I've experienced in Paris. While walking in broad daylight through a park full of people, I realized that I was being pursued by a pack of kids and teenagers. The youngest was about 11 years old and was brandishing what looked like a metal pipe. Perhaps they grossly mistook me for a member of some rival gang, for when I turned around and said, "Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" (What do you want?), their leader, realizing his mistake, gave up the chase and told his posse, "Laisse-le, c'est un Anglais" (Leave him alone, he's British).
