Path of Least Resistance

The other day, I flashed on a bit of family lore: as a teen, my brother gave up on the French language upon learning that after the number sixty-nine, the French re-package prior numbers’ words in order to keep counting.  Seventy, for example, is soixante-dix (sixty-ten), Eighty is quatre-vingts (four twenties) and Ninety is quatre-vingt-dix (four twenties and ten).  Any language that can’t be bothered to come up with sufficent numbers-words, he concluded, isn’t worthy of further study.

Then I also remembered one of Steve Martin’s bits – the one where he pokes fun at Americans expecting everything to be ‘their way’ when traveling abroad

Which is to say that there remains a fundamental disconnect between how the French and American brains operate. To be direct, the French can be infuriating to travelers accustomed to American (or Irish) style service.

Having understood that the French appreciate even feable attempts at speaking their language, I tried deploying my limited French and met mixed results.  Some people impatiently cut me off, demanding Speak English! Others just got loud and eye-rollee.

I hasten to add that we encountered a number of approachable and helpful French travel industry workers. But we encountered an equal number of stand-offish people who seemed to be offended at the very suggestion that we even ask for service at a bar or restaurant.  Here, the customer is not always right.  Indeed, the prevailing attitude seems to be that we travelers should do whatever makes it easiest for them.  I can’t count how many times we were told  it would be better for us if you did this.

My favorite example : While discussing our last-day transfer arrangements with bike tour coordinator, Fabienne, we said we needed to end up at Marseille airport and asked how best to get there.  From the TVG train station in Avignon, she advised, so we bought train tickets accordingly, while she arranged a taxi to take us there from Fontaine de Vaucluse.

The taxi ride took around 45 minutes, and we found our train with no problem.  Once on it, however, we realized it was heading to Marseille by way of Fontaine de Vaucluse.  So we drove 45 minutes to catch the exact same train we could have caught at a station within a few miles of our hotel.   

Why didn’t she just tell us that ?   Here’s why: because it was easier for her (and also, probably, a good gig for the taxi driver. )