Skip the Perfume Factory!

It was an autumn day in October, about twenty years ago.  I was travelling amongst other students in Paris, France.  We were on a 2-day trip, and it was my 3^rd big trip, across the big pond, that semester.  I’d been to London, Dublin in Ireland, and now Paris.  This trip was going to be extra special because I had spent my entire high school career studying French, waiting for this very day to actually get to speak French in its home country.
 

In my early college years, I had dreams of becoming a foreign interpreter, travelling to foreign lands, and speaking multiple languages.  It seemed that I finally would be getting my first taste of what this life might be like.  At the very least, I could go to Paris and take in all of those lessons learned in French class.  I could see the sites, taste the food, speak the language – live, sleep, eat, think, dream, breathe in French for a couple of days.

The first little adventure was on a cruise ship. We had crossed the English Channel from Dover in the UK to Calais, France.  None of the students knew French so I assisted some with ordering hot chocolate and coffee.  I used very basic French and successfully ordered their drinks.  That made me feel pretty good. 

The next adventure was at the hotel.  Anytime you left the hotel, you had to leave and retrieve your key from the Front Desk Attendant.  At one point, I left the hotel and returned to get my key.  I gave the attendant my room number.  He couldn’t understand me.  I said room 253 in what I thought was very clear French.  Evidently, this wasn’t the case.  I repeated myself and even showed the numbers using my fingers.  He got mad and asked me to write it.  I did, although I was disappointed.  I was trying very hard to communicate with him in French, but it just wasn’t working out.

Another time, I went to a patisserie or bakery to buy some French bread, which according to my French lessons, the French eat about 3 times a day and carry with them everywhere.  I asked the seller for some “du pain grand”, which I thought I was asking for a loaf of French bread.  He was very confused.  I repeated it to no avail and even tried gesturing.  Then, he understood.  I asked him what it was called.  He said, “baguette”.  For the life of me, I did not remember the word “baguette” in my studies.

Later, I wanted to experience the Bon Marché, which is a very renowned, department store in Paris.  I figured if I was in the fashion capital of the world that I was going to see what clothing they had to offer.  I asked one of the attendants to see a bra.  Once again, she hadn’t a clue what I was saying.  It was frustrating.  I didn’t understand what was missing in the translation of “les bras”.  She went and got an interpreter, who asked me in perfect English what I wanted.  I told her and then asked her what it was called.  She said “soutien gorge”.  I was completely puzzled by that word and looked it up later and discovered that the English translation was “under the throat”.  I guess my French teacher had never brought that word up.  It must have been considered too risque for 12^th graders...

All of my trip was not spent confusing the French, I actually did manage to get decent directions at the train station. No interpreter was required.  I visited many sites that I had only read about and had not seen in person.  The Eiffel Tower, Champs-Elysée, Arc du Triomphe, le sacré coeur, (a famous cathedral), Pére la Chaise cimitére, where Oscar Wilde & Jim Morrison are buried, were a few of these.  The city at night was amazing and very appropriately called the “City of Lights” or “Ile de la cité”.

The main reason I got to see so many of these sites is because I chose to skip out on the guided, group tour of the perfume factory.  The teacher in charge was not too pleased with me, and I was lectured for going off on my own.  Quite honestly, though, I have no regrets.  I saw most of the things *Paris* that I had studied and learned about over the years and even went with a friend to a bar, where we talked with a local about the infamous Moulin Rouge and other aspects of Parisian culture. 

Oftentimes, I have found in my life, that the best lessons learned are ones uncovered, when you go off of the beaten path.  If I had the choice to do it all over again, as far as taking the group tour of the perfume factory or experiencing all of Paris’s gems and soaking in every detail, in a heartbeat I’d say, “Skip the Perfume factory!  Live life to the fullest, and remember,  a second chance may never again come along!"