Je ne care pas

I am finally a true citizen of Montreal. I was chatting with my coworker one day in French and in the midst of our conversation I told her, “Je ne care pas.” When I realized that I had mixed the two languages together I started chuckling.

Despite my nefarious use of franglais, she completely understood what I was saying. She assured me that my unthinking blending of the two languages means that I am a true Quebecer, since they’re notorious for stealing English words.

Of course, my French isn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a moment yesterday when I wanted to ask her a question about archiving emails. Just as I started to pronounce the word, “archiver” I realized I couldn’t remember if it had a hard or soft “ch” sound. Instead I stuttered over the “ar” syllable for a good 15 seconds before finally giving up. It went something like this: “Alexandra, quand je veux ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-AUGH!” We both burst out laughing at my complete and utter failure to speak.

Some other crazy things about languages here in Montreal is how they affect English. On the island, certain words and grammar are stolen from the French. Instead of convenience stores, we have dépanneurs. Instead of training, we go for formation. You don’t use highways, you use autoroutes. You also open and close things rather than turn them on or off. (E.g. I’m closing my computer. I’m opening the lights.)