We are Canadian

Or, Why I prefer to get angry in French

Unlike many bilingual couples, when Phi and I met we were more or less on equal footing language-wise. My French was better than his English but we could nonetheless have a decent conversation in either language. Because we both want to improve our respective second-language skills, we have always been conscious of the need to spoke both. In fact, had it not been for this aspiration, we never would have met at all.

Phi had come to NY to work for a couple of years and improve his English and I had recently quit my PhD program at Columbia on a mission to start my life, as I desired it to be, now. As in, not in five or six years. Top of my list: to go back to France, where I had last felt truly happy.

To work on my French while I got my life together, I put up an ad seeking French people for a "language exchange": we would meet once a week for a couple of hours and speak half in French, half in English. I met a few cool French people this way, but none so wonderful as my very own Phi. Which you might suspect, seeing as how I married him. I still have the notebook I brought to our first meeting - it gave him the impression I was dreadfully serious, which is not so far off - with the first new word he taught me: médiatique, referring to Sarkozy.

Phi and I are now both pretty proficient in our respective second languages, maybe in the 60-70% range. French may win out slightly as the default language but it's pretty mixed. Sometimes we speak all in French. Sometimes all in English. Sometimes we are lazy and he speaks in French while I respond in English. Plenty of our conversations are a random mish-mash, Canadian-style. For example at an Indian resto the other day I said to Phi, "Est-ce que ce plat est spicy?" I know how to say spicy in French so I really cannot explain why it came out like that. He has even less of an excuse for responding the same way.

Someone who heard us going back and forth in English and French would probably think it sounded odd, even pretentious. But for us it is totally natural. Both languages are part of our landscape and for communication purposes, we are under no obligation to limit ourselves to just one.

Once I told Fned and Ksam that when I'm mad at Phi I speak to him in French. They seemed surprised -- Fned pointed out that your power lies in your native language, the one you have full control over -- but I have a very good reason for doing this. When I'm annoyed with Phi, I need him to understand everything I say! Letting some of the meaning slip through the cracks simply will not do. He also has a habit of pretending to understand when he really doesn't so this way I know he's getting all of it. Ah, the joys of bilingual coupledom.

This post is part of a group blog, Bilingualism in Expat Couples, proposed by the lovely trilingual blogueuse Fned. Go here to check out other posts on the subject.