Q and A

Have you ever found yourself in a place that is just different enough that somehow it seems even more foreign than if everything around you was new? If everything is new and different then expectations are non-existent. But if only some things are new, expectations are harder to pin down.

This is my experience in Paris—I refer to it as the “Q and A” problem. Q/A does not refer to in shorthand as “Question and Answer”; rather it refers to the orientation of the French keyboard where the letters Q and A are switched and symbolizes those many little differences that remind me around every corner that I am in a foreign country. Most of the keys are the same, but about five to six are different—just enough difference to trip me up, but not so much as to make the whole venture out of reach.

A disclaimer seems necessary: I feel like I have the luxury of this perspective because Josh navigates so much of the French culture and language easily. This allows me the wonderful chance to only bite off what I want to chew.

Another Q/A experience for me was my first solo trip to the grocery store. I am looking to food and cooking as my window into this country. I proudly set out to the Fran Prix, a small, but dependable French chain of grocery stores, a half block down the street, fully confident that I could locate some basic goods and pay for them, without actually speaking to anyone. I haven’t spoken to anyone at the Columbia Road Safeway in years, so this didn’t seem like a tall order.

I picked up my cart and my troubles began nearly immediately in the produce section. I knew I wasn’t doing something right, but I just didn’t know what I wasn’t doing and there weren’t enough shoppers for me to spy on. So, I picked up my lemon, apple and lychees (another note: lychees are everywhere. I don’t particularly understand them as a concept, but Josh loves them, so they were on the shopping list).

I started down the vast yogurt aisle, turned left at the vast cheese aisle and continued on. I am particularly amazed at the yogurt selections—there must be 150 different types of yogurt (and yogurt-esque products, which are too numerous to detail here).

It took a few confused interactions to acquire salt. I couldn’t find bleach (but I did find ammonia). I gave up on pepper. I found the diet coke. I decided the sparkling water could wait. I forgot about the paper towels. Finally, it was time to check out.

I braced myself. Grocery store clerks (at least according to Josh) are notoriously grouchy. I unloaded the basket, softly said, “Bonjour madame” and hoped for the best.

The line behind me grew. She then asked me a question. My heart pounded, I shrugged. I smiled (despite the fact I knew smiling would get me nowhere) and hoped it wasn’t that important. She sighed slightly and pulled out bags (lesson #4—it is best to bring your own bags to the grocery store). I thought I had dodged a bullet and then it came time to ring up the produce.

As she picked up my lemon, she asked a question—or was it a statement? Regardless, I smiled again and she kept talking. I managed a feeble, “Je no parle pas francais”. She sighed again. The line kept getting longer. I was literally sweating. Then she got up and left, with my produce!

I clearly had to stand there, absorbing the glares that were probably entirely in my mind. I cursed myself for not paying better attention in French class.

But what I thought was going to be a story of “How the French clerk made Sara Cry on Day 4” actually turned into the story of “How the French clerk took pity on Sara and Helped Her” The clerk returned a short lifetime later, with stickers attached to my produce, rang them up, announced my total and I was on my way. Lesson #5—there is a scale in the produce section that you use to weigh and print out a price tag for each item.

I then bagged up my groceries and left, with a bit of a zip to my step.

Maybe I never thought a trip to a grocery store would feel like a significant accomplishment, but maybe this is exactly the type of reminder I need about the importance of accomplishments of all sizes. I know there aren’t medals for every day moments like these, but maybe there should be and I know that I enjoyed the best apple of my life today at lunch and I even know how to buy another one—all by myself.


sPg