Monday morning was supposed to be my first lesson in French. So I arrive early, circle the building (in fact, several buildings) trying to get in. Nothing new there. This is what I always do. Finally I spot some people with knowledgeable faces coming from the bus stop which gave me some hope that they would
It was quite simple after that: I went straight to room 028 that had been indicated in my invitation. Said hello to the three people already there and took a seat. The teacher was late, I mean, very very late. So I just sat there and listened to the other people's conversation. But I did wonder how such experienced and long-time translators still didn't know any French ... based on what they said everyone had a house here, to say nothing about a car and a family! They seemed very settled in!
Eventually another old-timer came in, put his briefcase down next to me, whipped out his invitation and pushed it under my nose, demanding: "Is this the Croatian class?" I had noticed his name on the paper: it was Estonian. "No, it's not," I told him in our mutual mother tongue. "In fact, its French, beginners' level. You'd better go and try to find your Croatian class, 'cause this is not it." "Oh fuck," says he, picks up his satchel and marches out of the room, banging the door.
Some more waiting followed and finally, the teacher arrived. She was greeted, in FLUENT FRENCH, by my classmates. Now it was my turn to oh-fuck. Mentally, of course! So that's how it's going to be! I had heard horror stories about those langage courses for translators where everyone actually has excellent command of the language. Why they enrol at the beginners' level, remains a mystery to me.
So I say, in English: "Khm, I think we have a problem here. I actually REALLY don't speak any French." A surprised silence followed. "Oh-uh," says the teacher in very wobbly English. "I guess I could try to put it in English for you ..."
I sit, seething. She pulls out a textbook and sends it around, saying that this is the book they have always used for those lessons. Even from the other side of the room I could tell that this was NOT the book I had been told to buy (which I did and paid good money for it, let me tell you).
So I seethe some more and wait for the book to reach me in order to make another biting comment. It did reach me. And what do you think? The book was for learning CROATIAN !!! At that point I jump up, and yell: "Is this the French class for beginners?" "No," they tell me in chorus," It's Croatian!"
I burst out laughing and so does everyone else. For some comic relief, for heavens' sake! "And now," say I, "I only have to find that poor soul whom I sent to god knows where in search of the Croatian class..."
To cut a long story short: I finally found my French class. The first lesson was almost over. But nobody minded. The teacher was a pretty and funny girl and my co-students: eight strapping lads. Which made the lesson really fun and lively as everyone was trying to impress the teacher! In the end, meerkat had great fun. And nobody spoke much French either.
As for the Estonian gentleman: I saw him marching towards the bus stop, briefcase under arm, very red in the face and looking (understandably) peeved. I hid behind the corner of the building and didn't come out until he had alighted a bus. I will have to be very careful not to bump into him in the future :))))
Hilarious!
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