a city made for lovers; too bad for me

OK, I have way too much of a hangup over this (not speaking) French thing.

As I walk around Montreal and have to admit to people in shops and restaurants that I don't speak French, the first feeling that wells up inside me is shame. Seriously. Yes, I know that's ridiculous. It doesn't last, because while I am certainly capable of wallowing in absurdity, I try not to do it for very long. But it's there.

The feeling goes along with my intense fear of being an Ugly American, I guess. As if the fact that I was not born with the ability to speak every language fluently demonstrates terrible disrespect for people everywhere in the non-English-(or-Spanish-)speaking world.

Frankly, I think my frustration also comes from the great sense of loss - of missed opportunities - I get from not being able to blend right in and communicate openly with people. Even if I did speak the language it wouldn't necessarily help that much (I say from experience) because I still feel a lack of the cultural capital I would need to be sure I'm asking appropriate questions in a polite way, etc.

I see a couple of possible solutions to this problem:

1) Get the hell over it. Because really? Self-pity is unattractive. I try to learn the important phrases, to smile and be willing to communicate enough in other ways so that people know I'm making an effort. And anyway, I'm fairly sure I'm not an Ugly American. If anything, I'm too quiet (out of self-consciousness) instead of too loud, and the last thing I insist upon when I'm abroad is whatever I'm used to at home (ice in my water, etc... hell, even drinkable tap water). That's not the point of traveling (though many of my compatriots don't seem to have gotten the memo).

And the truth is, if this bothers me that terribly much, I should just stay home. Which is obviously not an option I'm interested in. So I need to stop worrying about it.

2) Find a friendly (and preferably attractive) (and preferably single) (and preferably located in the general area of southeastern Vermont) (oh, and heterosexual) young man to teach me French. And/or to travel the Francophone world with me.

The former solution is possibly the more practical, but while I'm busy getting over my neuroses, you should please be trying to think of whether you know anyone who might fit that bill (those looked like a lot of demands but they weren't, really... well, OK, we are talking about Brattleboro, but I have faith in you). It's not like I'm pining away here, but what can I say? Walking alone around a lovely foreign city full of beautiful (and I do mean beautiful) people, all of whom seem to have another beautiful person to hold hands and share their sunny Saturday with... it makes me a little nostalgic for that kind of thing.

My lovely friend Froggoddess has recently found a distinct correlation between articulating what she is looking for to cyberspace and actually finding it in real life fairly soon afterward. So the point of this is to follow her lead and see if the same luck/universe energy might look favorably upon me.

So sleep on it and let me know what you come up with. You can find me tomorrow in the park with a croissant and the English-language newspaper, looking slightly embarrassed, but happy all the same.