Episode #3

For episode numero trois, I’ll pick up where I left off: numbers.

At a CF Montreal tailgate this past weekend, I was telling my friends that I was preparing for my first oral exam -- and that the hardest part for me in Module 1 was numbers. Starting with the fact that, for some reason, I still could not shake “funf” out of my head for number 5.

But an even bigger headache presented itself for numbers 70 through 100, where you actually practice math AND a foreign language at the same time.

Literally translated, the French 70 is “sixty ten.” 71? “Sixty eleven.” And so on until 79 (“sixty nineteen,”) at which point, if you think you’ve caught on to the pattern, think again: because 80 is “four twenty.” 90 puts it all together, at “four twenty, ten.”

Insert head-exploding emoji here.

I was glad that Module 1’s numbers stopped at 100, because I was beginning to fear that I might need to dust off my algebra to count any higher.

At the tailgate, my friend Simone agreed that, oui, French numbers are “a bit weird.” It’s even more complicated in Belgium, he said, where he found out on a vacation several years ago that they have swapped out “sixty ten” for septante (70) and “four twenty, ten” for nonante (90) – trying to be helpful. But they apparently still want to test you on your times-tables, so they kept the quatre-vingts for 80, unlike the Swiss, who say octante in favor of consistency.

Okay, I think I’ll just stick with Canada for the time being.

Even further proof that numbers are not my strong point came when I was practicing my French with a very patient fellow tailgater, who asked me how long I had lived in Vermont.

Dutifully, I formed a complete sentence for my answer, so as to weave in all of the vocab words I would be tested on the following Tuesday: J’habite en Vermont depuis… depuis…

How to say 2001?

Deux cent un, he told me. I then went on to tell him the story of how I gave my notice at my previous job – a Congressional office located next door to the U.S. Capitol Building – on September 10, 2001, just one day before the 9/11 terrorist attack made many Americans rethink living in Washington, DC.

Full disclosure: I did have to tell that story partially in English. But, when I was met with a slightly blank stare in response, I wondered if some of the French words I had used were incorrect.

Mais non…. It turns out I had just run up against another “loss in translation.” This kid just hadn’t been born yet.

(Insert head-exploding emoji here.)