travel
A Tourist’s Misconception
I had been told
that the French were unfriendly. My cousin
had told me all about her – what she described as –
unpleasant experience in Paris. Being my dream destination
for vacation, I was somewhat unhappy and unsure.
Nevertheless, I steeled myself for my trip to Paris the week
before Christmas.
“Speak to a person in a language she understands, it gets to her
head. Speak to her in her language, it gets to her heart.”
Although dead, Mandela’s words remain true. As I stepped
out onto French soil, what greeted me left me puzzled.
I had been taught the French language by a private French
tutor for about two months, and had also written the
International French DELF A2 examinations, but I never
thought that would be enough to compete with the “born of
French” people I met. Of course there is a huge difference
between studying French and growing up hearing it, but I
tried my best and the French? They did the rest.
I walked up to the ticket office to buy a train ticket. Believe it
or not, I was nervous, and even more as my mother and
brother were all dependent on me to do the talking. I
rehearsed several times in my mind and then spoke the exact
words. Unfortunately, I hadn’t bargained for more than I had
rehearsed.
It so happened that our travel agent had booked a hotel for
us on the outskirts of Paris, in Lagny sur la Marne, I think, but
it was close to Disneyland – which we didn’t have plans to
visit. I became distraught because I was asking for the train
route to the area, and was told – as I later understood – that
the train stopped at Torcy and from Torcy, we needed to take
the bus. I continued to repeat “pardon” again and again,
until...
“Do you speak English?”
His question took me by surprise. He actually speaks English!
But stubborn as I was, I confessed – in French – that I spoke
English but I was learning French. What he did next shocked
me even more. He changed back to French! This time
repeating what he thought I didn’t understand slowly and
most times writing it down. I was really impressed at this
rather kind gesture. It gave me the confidence I greatly
needed to speak the French no matter how it flowed out of
my mouth, as far as it was understood.
From that man, my already structured mind set about the
French people changed. I began to see them in a new light
and indeed, I wasn’t mistaken. I spoke French and the French
saw me as their own, speaking to me, smiling at me and
eager to be of service.
After having such a spectacular vacation in Paris, I came back
home and told my cousin all about it. That was when I
realized her misconception. She was connecting her flight through Paris on her way to Britain. That got me doing a lot
of thinking. She never got out of the airport! Maybe she met
a man who was having a bad day or a woman who was in a
hurry, or more logically, didn’t even bother to learn the
basics of French! – I don’t think I will appreciate someone
speaking to me in Portuguese in my own country, where it is
not even a lingua franca. I realized that just because of that
one man or one woman whom she had come into contact
with, the image of the entire French civilization had been
tarnished in her mind and she would probably never visit that
beautiful country. Luckily, I advised her on one thing that has,
hopefully, tuned her mind set back to neutral.
People should not be classified. They are not objects like cars,
chairs, and so on, that have the same functions or – If they
are the same brand – look the same. People differ not by
race or colour or gender, but by personality. We do not have
to believe that just because we caught someone of a
particular country stealing; it means the whole country
steals. I, myself, have had stereotypes of groups of people,
until one day I sat back and told myself, “Hey, I can’t go
about judging a group by one of its member. No, I won’t like
someone to do that to me. I want to gain respect, gain
acceptance, gain recognition, not by my country or my
background, but by what I do and who I am... by my
personality.”
