Bienvenue sur le forum de l'Amicale Tricyclecariste de France

Nice logo.

Other than that, it's all Greek to me.

Anne,

That was the way they taught French in my school. When I asked whether we were going to learn Continental French or our Quebecois French spoken in Canada. I was coldly told that there was a better chance that I would be going to Paris than Montreal which was about 300 miles from where I lived so we were learning "proper" French.

My son is in Guatemala at the moment but he is having a world of fun learning Spanish as he goes from whoever he can with some real surprises. One time he was in a small city in Mexico that was strictly Indian. Everyone is in native dress as they do every day and as he's looking at a bunch of information about a historic site and someone standing beside him tells him in English with a strong New York accent that there are better ruins to see.
He said after he jumped a little he looks over and there is a old lad dressed in native dress complete with feathered headdress. Turns out he had lived in New York City for 40 years and had come back to live in the area where he was born.

Yesterday he had to have his phone repaired and they were having a hard time with it so they called a friend in to help. Young fella walks in and asks Dave what he needs in a real strong Boston Accent which is about 60 miles from where Dave lives. If you have ever heard President John Kennedy or his brothers speak that is a what this guy sounded like. He'd gone to school there for 6 years. They were laughing at the look of surprise on my sons face.
The kids father is Chinese and his mother Guatemalan.

Steve.

I endured French in a military college prep school in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. First year teacher was an elderly little Cuban guy, (Ruban the Cuban Delgato) whose brand of French was suspect due to his questionable English skills which he thought were perfect. I recall him getting red in the face more than once and yelling at me "you haf no co ordinasion of de mind!!!) 2nd year French was a snappy marine who demanded push ups when we did poorly. I did better at push ups than French unfortunately. I still remember how to say "I don't know" in French, however, so that's something.

Good that you have access to that forum and can pass along some good stuff to the rest of us.
SB

Anne,

We have the, them against us, French-English thing going here. Quebec has French only signs every where and a language police who enforce it with great vigor. There are French immersion schools schools here in British Columbia that you can enroll your children in French from kindergarten.
They are just a regular school with that option but you have to request it.

I am surprised that anyone who spoke Maori wouldn't have be happy to speak to you. A native white person who had taken the time to learn to speak their language I would have thought would have been a shoe in to have people more than happy to help expand your knowledge. My guess is they have been told that anyone who isn't one of us is one of them and to be avoided at all cost. Sad.

David is finding people as he goes along that are more than happy to exchange language lessons. Many people have been in the U.S. illegally and were sent back but spoke fluent English.

It seems that Guatemala City is divided into zones and he was looking for a hostel in Zone One. Every store has an armed guard in front of it and as David wandered around one of the guards stepped up to him and asked in English what he was doing in that part of town. He told him it was to dangerous for him to be there and pointed out where the hostel was and told him not to leave until morning and to get out of the area.

He heard later that there were companies that refused to deliver to stores in Zone One and they had to come and pick up what they wanted. He is a people person and is having a bunch of fun.

Steve.

Your a blessing and a treat in any language, Intrepid. I am sure they are just glad for such fine company.

("C'est la vie"

"La Vee")

When I was in high school I took two years of German. It was about the only subject, aside from 'easy' ones, that I did well in. I chose it simply because their culture struck me as more interesting than the others that were offered.

I did well enough that I could have gone there and done just fine getting around in everyday life.

But I live in North America. You don't get a chance to practice German here. So now I still know the grammar rules and could construct a sentence or a paragraph. But it's about forty years ago now and I have practically no vocabulary left.

So now I'm in a strange and unfortunate category; formerly bi-lingual. I chose the wrong foreign language to study.

I grew up in Detroit and also spent part of my youth in a rural area that was not far away. In those parts, when you ran into a foreign language it was French. I'm quite sure that I never ran into Spanish during my childhood. Then in my early twenties I headed for the west coast.

I drove for the best part of a day, then stopped for fuel or rest or both. Not far, if I remember right, from where I live now. I walked up to a pay phone. And there it was;
instructions written in Spanish.

Though I don't recall giving it a lot of thought, this didn't particularly surprise me. It was to be expected. Still, it was like a slap in the face or a knife in the heart. It hit me like a ton of bricks; I was giving up my home and many places, and things, that I was very fond of. I headed on out of there feeling truly sad or troubled, or something like that.

But it didn't last long. I expected my destination to be fun. And it was. I went to San Francisco and got a job as a bicycle messenger. It's hard to imagine a job that's more fun. We were dirt poor. But we had a blast.

One effect is that I've loved the bicycle ever since. I haven't been without one ever since and I've ridden a lot this whole time.

The folks around here think guys like me are peculiar. But they'd understand much better if they'd gone to one of the big cities and held a job like that.