Je suis tsukareta, mais c’etais sugoi.

Comments Off on Je suis tsukareta, mais c’etais sugoi.



I was greeted by my French-speaking African neighbor this morning while I was moving the yard-waste bin to the curb, and I’m pretty sure you could see visible smoke come from my ears as my poor tired brain tried to switch from my almost non-existent Japanese to my very rusty French. I used Japanese “and”, of all things, and eventually bid him “bonne journee” while bowing Japanese-style.

Beaucoup d’exercice pour mon cerveau, ce weekend! 

Oh, I should maybe note that a cool thing (for me) about my neighbor being an African Francophone is that he speaks a very international/academic French, which is a LOT easier for me to understand than Quebecois French or lots of French accents from France itself. My profs mostly stuck to international/academic for teaching. I could understand him perfectly, except for the bit where I forgot the days of the week. 

He’s also really patient and doesn’t immediately switch back to English, because he knows I want to practice, which is super cool. 

TL;DR: This conversation was on easy mode and it still caused a pre-coffee brain meltdown.