A French phrase became branded on my mind
Our hotel in Amsterdam had arranged our transportation to the train station. It wasn’t far, but traffic was congested. Once there, we boarded the Thalys, the high-speed train from Amsterdam to Paris with a single stop in Brussels (it’s now called the Eurostar).
My wife had taken French in high school and college, but I think we were both slightly apprehensive about Paris. I’d been told that no one in Paris spoke English except English-speaking tourists, “and if even if a French person does, they’ll never admit it and just stare at you with a blank look.” I’d also been told, “They don’t like Americans.”
I would learn a French word, or, more precisely, a phrase. It would get branded on my brain the entire time we were in Paris.
The Louvre at night, via Unsplash
Our hotel clerk spoke English, as did the concierge and the bellman who helped us with our bags. We were pleasantly surprised. Perhaps this would go better than we’d expected.
The concierge recommended a restaurant for dinner, Au Petit Riche. It was less than a two-block walk away. He did say it was traditional French, and the staff would not likely speak English.
We arrived and were greeted by a smiling waiter. When I said reservation for Young, he scowled and motioned for us to follow. We passed areas where there were other diners and empty tables, and for a moment, I thought he was going to shove us out the back door. Instead, he pointed to a small dining room where two other couples were eating. Apparently, we could seat ourselves.
I was secretly pleased. The surly French waiter wasn’t a stereotype.
Paris Metro station, via Unsplash
I think the waiter was trying to segregate the non-French speaking customers. We were seated with a young Australian couple on their honeymoon, and an older English couple from Salisbury who seemed to be celebrating their 50th. And here we were, the Americans, celebrating our 25th. Our waiter had unintentionally created a chronological harmony of marriages.
We had a ball. We talked, traded tourist stories, shared food and drinks. We all enjoyed ourselves so much that I think we disappointed the waiter.
Since we were the latest arrivals in Paris, our new friends explained the overriding problem we’d been dealing with. The cultural workers in the museums were furious with government plans to change pensions, and they had been staging wildcat strikes. There was no way to plan for what would be open and what wouldn’t. We’d just have to take our chances.
Our friends taught us a new phrase, one that would we hear repeatedly during our stay in Paris: en strike, pronounced “on streek” Our hotel concierge would try to help, but no one had any control over when a wildcat strike would occur. You could also be in the middle of a museum tour, and the place would have to close. The workers had gone en strike.
The first time we tried to see the Louvre – en strike. Same thing for the Musee d’Orsay and the Victor Hugo House. We were fortunate with visiting Versailles, which required a train ride. The palace was open that day, we bought our tickets and discovered our tour guide hated Americans and tried to lose us. He failed. The next day, however – it was en strike at Versailles.
We did manage to see most of what we had hoped to see, with the sole exception of the Arc de Triomphe, which seemed permanently en strike. But en strike had some good side effects. When we found the Louvre closed, we walked across the Seine to the Left Bank and almost stumbled into the Cluny, the Museum of the Middle Ages. Inside was the famous “Lady and the Unicorn” tapestry. It was a totally unexpected and wonderful museum. That’s how we also found St. Julien-le-Pauvre Church, near Shakespeare & Co. books. (This wasn’t the original Shakespeare & Co., founded in 1919 and patronized by expats like Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein, and F, Scott Fitzgerald; this one came along in 1951.)
Le Printemps, via Unsplash
Galeries Lafayette, via Unsplash
And, about three blocks from our hotel, we found a street so Parisian it seemed like a Hollywood set. The Rue des Martyrs was about two blocks of flower shops, bakeries, chocolate stores, and a wine shop (the owner was more fluent in English than we were). And we were within two blocks of the two big Parisian department stores – Galeries Lafayette and Le Printemps on the same street as our hotel, Boulevard Haussmann. While most of the salespeople at both stores spoke only French, we learned the universal rule of commerce – language is no barrier when you want to buy something.
We enjoyed the trip, but the constant threat and reality of en strike was exhausting. We were glad to head home.
Arriving at Charles De Gaulle Airport, we quickly discovered that en strike wasn’t finished with us. The baggage handlers had embraced the concept, requiring passengers to maneuver their luggage – all of it – through security and x-ray and to the departure gate, where the flight attendants and pilots would then load it on the plane. The moving sidewalk from security to the gate was rather whimsical, curvy and often up and down, as in hilly. It was great fun trying to manage both suitcases and checked bags.
“En strike,” I muttered, “en strike.” Years later, I still refer to the French capital as Paris en strike.
Related:
“Everybody in Amsterdam Speaks English.” Not.
Photo by Jaguar MENA, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young.
See all Words to Travel By posts…
How to Read a Poem uses images like the mouse, the hive, the switch (from the Billy Collins poem)—to guide readers into new ways of understanding poems. Anthology included.
“I require all our incoming poetry students—in the MFA I direct—to buy and read this book.”
—Jeanetta Calhoun Mish
- Poets and Poems: Dave Malone and “Bypass” - February 13, 2026
- Poets and Poems: Linda Nemec Foster and the Extraordinary Ordinary - February 10, 2026
- Poet Liz Ahl Beats the Bounds - February 5, 2026
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Glynn,
This line made me chuckle:
“We learned the universal rule of commerce – language is no barrier when you want to buy something.” 😉
Katie