How to scare the hell out of your hosts in 5 simple words!

Years ago I went to work at a tourist office in the South West of France for a summer. I arrived at the beginning of May ... the quiet start of the season to brush up on my French before the onslaught, the descent of the hordes - English, Dutch & German tourists, who inhabit the beach resorts and campsites there throughout the long summer months. As a stagiaire (a trainee) I worked for very little money, a bare £140 per month + board and lodgings; as such a poor, penniless individual I was over the moon to get accomodation with friend's of my parents who lived in the same resort.


When I arrived the friends of my parents were actually in Wales, staying with my mum and dad ~ freedom! I had a fabulous time, out every night with the guys from the tourist office, working hard each day - wine tours, accomodation bookings, ferry timetables, entertainments, surfing etc, etc. But lets get back to the "out every night with the guys from the tourist office" ... by guys, I mean the people I worked with - 5 girls, 1 bloke and me! Not great odds BUT in that town it was neither here or there because just around the edge of the lake was the CFM Contaut ~ a training base for the French navy!

For the recruits, this was National Service ~ beginning with 8 weeks training in the South West of France. For us (me and my friends at the TO) this was bliss! The local night clubs and bars were full of men ~ wind surfers, surfers and sailors in abundance. And don't get me started on the lifeguards ~ policemen and firemen drafted in from all over France for a summer of "life saving on the beaches of Aquitaine" ~ like Baywatch en français!

Ah memories, memories ... stop, I'm getting off subject! After about 3 weeks or so of hard work (at the T.O. gutter snipe!) my friends parents returned full of their aventures in West Wales and I started to live, breathe and dream in French - speaking the language in work and at home! At the dinner table on our second night all together, we chatted about the day and my "language lessons" (a new one learnt at every word I uttered) ~ I learnt that when you answer the telephone you shouldn't say "who is calling" but instead "c'est de la part de qui?" ... it's on behalf of who?

As my host passed me the serving dish, he asked me if I wanted any more? I thought my sentence out and proudly uttered the fateful words "non merci, je suis plein!" [No thank you, I'm full!] If I did, my host jumped to his feet and launched into a tirade of questions ~ what? Who? Where? Why? How? My parents? Already? So soon? The shame! And then a calm voice said in English ... "I think you mean you've had enough to eat, don't you?"

Me - yes, je suis plein!

Hostess - NO; in French we say J'ai assez mangé. If we say je suis plein we are announcing we are pregnant!

That would have been my second language lesson during that meal time!