I had to use Google Translator to create that post headline, and I’m sure I should try and download some English-to-French translation app on my phone, because I am headed to France for two weeks come Saturday! Now, most of my friends know that I am anticipating this trip with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I will be in a luxurious country for two weeks. I plan on waking up every morning to fresh roasted French coffee and chocolate croissants–I seriously cannot complain.

“But they HATE Americans!” says every single person I have spoken with about my upcoming trip. “Seriously Katie, don’t be surprised if you’re treated like total, Grade A American white trash. They hate us SO MUCH.” My mom and stepdad, Russ, like to say, “Katie, when they are rude to you, just remember that if it wasn’t for us Americans, they’d be speaking German today, because we totally saved their tushes in WWII.” I’m sure that would go over wonderfully with the snobby cafe waiters in Paris. I realized that imitating a British accent to cover up my American-ness would probably be a failure, and pretending to be Spanish would fail miserably as well, seeing as I know about 1/3 of the language and speak it with a 100% genuine American accent. At this point, you’re probably wondering what options I have left. I know two words in French, “Bonjour” and “Oi.” Well, I have a secret weapon–my nine-year-old sister.

Alexandra is a rising 4th grader at the Dallas International School, which just happens to be completely run by French immigrants. The school’s curriculum requires the students to be fluent in French by the fifth grade; therefore, Alexandra could totally pass off as a Parisian…who happens to be chilling with three grown Americans. Anyway, she and I had a conversation last night via phone. It went something like this.

Me: “Alexandra, do you know what an insult sounds like in French?”
Alexandra: “Uh, duh.” (kids are so sassy now!)
Me: “Fantastic. Good. Let’s make a deal.”
Alexandra: “I can do that. What’s the deal?”
Me: “I can’t speak any French.”
Alexandra: “I know, you have a really bad accent when you try.”
Me: “Uh huh, well your Spanish sounds kind of funny too. Anyway, Alexandra, those Parisians are, most likely, going to hate my guts. I’m American and have no way of communicating with them. Therefore, they will probably insult me. A lot. So, I need you to insult them back whenever they say something rude to me.”
Alexandra: “OH. I know SO many French insults. I…I kind of know some bad words in French. (At this point she drops her voice to a whisper.) Idiot…Stupid. I can call them stupid if you want.”
Me: “Sounds perfect.”
Alexandra: “We are totally the best sisters ever.”
I agreed. End of convo.

I have a plan. I will enjoy my souffles, cheese and wine, and if any of the French try to give me trouble, Alexandra, no doubt, has my back. So je vais à la France, I will be sending updates come Saturday!