For some reason, the shower in our apartment has not been working very well. Instead of taking a leisurely hot shower to wake me up in the morning I have had to suffer through the painful experience of frigid water hitting my entire body. Not one ounce of remotely warm water has come out of this shower head, despite the fact that we get hot water in every other faucet in the apartment.
Needless to say, it was essential for us to call a repair man. Gennie began school yesterday, so unfortunately she was not going to be here during the time the repair man would make his visit. When we made the appointment on the phone, the company assured us that they would send someone who was fluent in English (because I would be the only one here).
It didn't take long after the repair man buzzed to get into the apartment that I realized he didn't speak a lick of English. Perfect. So began the fiasco of fixing our shower. As he came into the door he rattled off a long sentence in French. My initial reaction was shear panic. However, I knew that now was not a time to be meek. I pulled out all of the high school French that I remembered. Surprisingly, we communicated the entire time in French and thankfully we were quite successful.
Now, not only do we have a wonderful hot shower awaiting us in the morning, but my confidence in French has been bolstered.
2 comments:
That is so funny. I knew that you would do fine speaking French!
I'm glad that you have hot showers now too. :o)
Love, Bethany
What up Gitta! Good work! I've made this account just to respond in you blog, because it won't let me otherwise! One day when I get skype, I will call you, until then, call me (Stefan).
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