Listening at the Grocery Store

A good way to learn a language.

Licensed from Maksym Yemelyanov

I haven’t learned a new language since I was a child. Spanish was my first language, followed quickly by English. I’ve periodically tried to reclaim my Spanish, which has atrophied over the years, but I haven’t attempted to learn a new language in decades. I’d forgotten how, but the key, I’m learning, is to listen before speaking.

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As some of you know, my wife and I moved to France earlier this month. We told ourselves we would practice French in the months leading up to the big move, but we dragged our feet. Before we knew it, we were in the black hole of an international move, pouring our house into boxes and garbage bins, enduring the rigmarole of French paperwork, and holing up in my mother’s house in the month between our move-out and our move-in. Then, after months of sloppy toiling, we were suddenly here, with only a couple dozen French words between us.

I downloaded some apps, and we began taking French lessons. We’re putting hours in, but progress is nigh imperceptible. I feel as hopeless today as I did on the cab ride from the airport, save one recent epiphany that gave me a glimmer of hope: I realized I’ve been too focused on what I’m saying and not focused enough on what people here are saying.

Before going to the grocery store, for example, I practiced scenarios on my app. I practiced asking the cashier for a bag or a receipt. I practiced telling the cashier that I’d pay by card. I ran through these potential exchanges over and over, effectively learning scripts, then I went to the grocery store only to have the unthinkable happen: The cashier spoke back.

I know it sounds silly, but I wasn’t prepared for them not to follow my script. Or maybe they did, but I didn’t realize it. That flustered me. At first, I didn’t even know how to say, “I don’t understand,” which paralyzed me. “Err,” I sputtered until the cashier bailed me out with “Ticket?” Ah, oui, merci.

These interactions made me realize that learning how to say something is only useful if it makes sense in context. In other words, you have to know when to say the words you’ve learned, and you can only do that if you understand what people are telling you.

Context matters too, of course. I can use that to my advantage by preempting someone. I could volunteer the information that I know the cashier is going to ask me about, saying something like, “Bonsoir. Je n’ai pas besoin d’un sac. Payer par carte. Merci. Au revoir. (“Good evening. I don’t need a bag. Pay by card. Thank you. Goodbye.”)

That would get the point across and likely prevent the cashier from asking questions. It’s a bit robotic, however, and still doesn’t solve for the larger challenge: Navigating words I don’t understand. Failing to understand will happen no matter how proactive I am and how much I practice. My French is way too limited for that not to happen virtually every interaction I have, so knowing how to act when I’m not understanding is critical. Listening is a big part of that.

I realized I was closing my ears the second I heard something I didn’t understand. I dismissed it as impenetrable gibberish, but I’m starting to realize that there are levels of understanding. Just because I don’t understand something doesn’t mean I don’t understand anything. Understanding context helps with listening. My goal at first was to understand, which fell apart quickly in conversation. My goal now is simply to understand something, anything, and use that as a toehold.

Here’s an example:

The cashier asking me if I wanted to pay by cash or by card threw me off. I didn’t know the words for “Do you want to pay by cash…” Or I maybe I learned a different way to say it. They could’ve been asking me anything. Did I want to donate to a charity? Did I want to apply for a loyalty program? I don’t even know if they do those things at grocery stores over here.

The next time at the grocery store, I heard par carte (by card), which I recognized. I assumed what preceded, then, was “Would you like to pay by cash or…” I responded appropriately with, “Par carte s’il vous plait.” (“By card, please.”) When I got home, I looked up how to say cash (espèces). Sure enough, next time I went to the grocery story, I heard the cashier ask me if I want to pay en espèces or par carte. It’s a small win, but I’m hoping that over time, these isolated wins will begin to cohere into something approaching understanding.

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By staying hyper-focused on what I was going to say, I was denying myself the most powerful learning tool. It was also self-centered. “This is what I want to say.” I don’t want to do that with language, and I don’t want to do that with culture. I don’t want to fall into the trap of bringing my language and my culture for the sake of comfort instead of opening myself up to this language and this culture. Opening myself up means discomfort. That’s part of the deal when you live within a new culture. Resisting that means resisting the culture. A little discomfort is good for us. It keeps us humble, hones our appreciation, and expands our worldview.

This practice of listening first is a microcosm of how I want to approach living in France. Listen before I speak. Observe before I do. Maybe that way, I’ll eventually stop paying so much attention to what I’m doing and get a glimpse of what it’s like to live in France.

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