The year was 2015 and the month was September, storm season in the south of France. I had just moved to Montpellier, a very charming university town, to work on my PhD project for one year at the Université Montpellier. As a student enrolled at the university, I had an office where I could work on my thesis in peace. I thought to myself: “I don’t know anyone except my supervisor, so during this year here I’ll catch up on all my reading and keep to myself.” As an acquaintance of mine used to say: “sweet illusion”.
On my very first day at the university, my supervisor took me to my office and showed me the main places in the building. Then he pointed out the window to an area outside the building, a sort of garden with a few benches and tables, and said:
“Bárbara, I’m old and I’m not going to have lunch with you. Do you see that area down there? The other PhD students have lunch together there every day. What you need to do is bring your lunchbox and go eat with them every day. And when they invite you for a beer after work, you should go with them. Because that’s how you’ll learn the French of the streets.”
I was a bit shocked, since I had arrived in France only a few days earlier and my French was still quite basic, but I agreed. The next day, at lunchtime and armed with my lunchbox, I headed to the garden where the other students were. A little shy, but still with my fearless nerve, I introduced myself and sat down with them. A PhD student named Séverine came over to talk to me in English and I kindly replied, already in French, that I spoke a little of the language and that they could (and should) speak to me only in French.
And that’s how I not only developed my French, but also made lots of friends, went to many happy hours, soirées and trips, and had an unforgettable year in the wonderful city of Montpellier.
A year later, in my last days at the university before returning to Brazil in September 2016, I held a farewell happy hour in that very same place, at one of the tables under the pine trees, with good cheeses, breads, snacks, wine and beer, together with my friends and fellow professors and researchers. Amid the food and drinks, a French friend (Benjamin, if I remember correctly) told me: “Wow, Bárbara, sometimes we forget you’re Brazilian, because you speak just like any of us.”
That was one of the things I was proudest of during my time in France, because what I ended up experiencing went far beyond academic research. It became an immersion in the French language and culture, with its way of life, board games, gastronomic pleasures, love of nature and travel, and a worldview that I still carry today and that is part of me. We can travel, spend time away and come back home, but we always carry our experiences with us and, in the end, they are what make us who we are.
What separates those who learn a language from those who merely study it is the willingness to venture into it, even when afraid of making mistakes. It was a bold piece of advice that led me there, and it’s the same advice I give my students today.
What advice are you putting off following out of fear? Sometimes it’s exactly what you need to unlock your fluency.
Talk to Bárbara