Oct 22, 2023

Facing my biggest fears in France.mp3

One of the main reasons for moving to a new country was to prove to myself my lifelong belief that I was terrible at languages was a load of crap 💩. To prove to myself that I shouldn’t listen to anything I believe without proper scientific evidence.

So, twelve weeks ago, I set out to prove myself wrong.

That’s right, I’ve been living in France for nearly three months now!

That’s nearly 25% of the way through my visa allowance. And, while I can now order you one of each quiche in a bakery, and ask for the wifi password in a cafe, the idea of actually starting a conversation with a french person on the street still terrifies the hell out of me.

Of course, there’s one major reason for this:

I haven’t actually taken any lessons.

The last time somebody tried to teach me French was nearly twenty years ago.

Of course, I totally planned to learn. It just didn’t ever seem to happen.

I had plenty of excuses those first few months.

I’ll do the online courses first! (Which I mostly haven’t)

I need to bring in more business for work! (Which I did)

I’ll do it when I get to Chamonix! (Which I’ve done)

All of which provided the perfect cover against the real truth of the matter: that the idea of paying to walk into a room in an attempt to converse with a French teacher scares the bloody pants off me.

Enter: childhood trauma.

Starting secondary school as a child, it was clear there were a few things I was not good at:

  1. Sports.
  2. French.