An ugly American in Paris: en Francais, s'il vous plait!

While in Lux, my French skills earned me the dubious honor of being a drill instructor. More advanced students were given the role to coach their beginner classmates in a series of real-life instruction settings. I had about 6 students, and make worksheets and field trips a regular part of our required weekly classes. We did all kinds of things like go to a fab cafe, ask for a table, review the menu in detail, order our cafe au lait, comment on the cafe or the service then ask for our check. Students were forced to do so in French, and I would get them out of any pickles with an assist if needed.

Our entire class took a trip to Paris to learn about architecture, culture and, of course, language. While in Paris, each drill instructor had to plan an activity for their group. I chose preparing for a picnic at the marche (the open-air market). At this point, my French was fully conversational and I'd been in Europe for about 9 months, so I was no longer instantly discernable as an American. My students, however, were glaringly non-continental.


Each student had to order what they needed for their lunch, which was composed of bread, cheese and charcuterie (salami-style meats). They had to describe quantities, slicing instructions, bread types, costs, cheese types and portions. It was a great learning opportunity, and they were doing great. I greeted the vendor, explained that we needed his patience and assistance and then we got started. I corrected grammar, joked a bit with the vendor, answered questions and made quips. It was fun!

An eternity later, the students were wrapping up and saying thank you. The vendor, who had been delightful to this point thought he was being cheeky when he said "how did a nice girl like you get stuck with all these ugly Americans?" Simultaneously offended and proud, I was able to respond in perfect French and loaded with disdain, "Sir, it is because I am also an ugly American." He blushed and apologized profusely to no avail. I walked away proud that I'd gained such skills that I couldn't be sussed out as a foreigner immediately, proud to have taught him a lesson, and proud to be an ugly American in Paris.