Here’s how it landed for me in real time:
What I believed walking in:
My posts here are already little “aha!”s—mini-lessons from the land of baguettes and bureaucracy. I’ve been collecting them like shiny pebbles: the silent letters that refuse to stay silent, the cashier who calls me “jeune homme” (sir, I love you), the bus that arrives exactly on time whenever I’m two minutes late.
What shifted:
A revelation isn’t just a fact I learned or a habit I adopted (don’t cut the cheese like a lumberjack, Thomas). It’s a felt click in the story, a moment when meaning changes shape and I commit to the new shape with embarrassing sincerity. It might even be wrong! (Reader, I have whole-heartedly believed many wrong things in French.) The power is in the wholeheartedness, not the correctness. That humbled me in the best way. (readwriteeat.substack.com)
The one sensory detail that made it click:
Plane-tree leaves skittering down the Cours sounded like tiny paper envelopes, each one a little “psst—pay attention.” The street looked the same, but my ear had changed. (If you’re new to Aix, the Cours is our grand, leafy stage—spring through autumn the canopy is pure theatre.) (French Moments)
The new line of French I can now say:
“Je croyais savoir; maintenant, je crois autrement.” (I thought I knew; now I believe differently.) It’s small, honest, and usefully elastic.
So what now for Étranger Things?
I’m going to practice adding a single revelation to each post—a clear, lived turn in meaning—rather than a tidy list of tips. Consider this my public promise: I’ll still share vocab, cafés, bus hacks, and museum hours, but I’ll also tell you what changed in me while ordering a demi-baguette or while failing—spectacularly—to use the right tu/vous. If I’m wrong, I’ll be wrong with gusto—and then show you the next turn.
If you want the spark I felt, read Natalie’s piece; it’s generous, practical, and full of listening. Then come back and tell us what shifted for you. (readwriteeat.substack.com)
Mini-revelations from this week (Aix edition)
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Language: The first time I said “ça marche” at the market, the vendor didn’t blink. The revelation wasn’t the phrase; it was my posture—less apology, more participation.
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Culture: The ritual bonjour at the boulangerie isn’t a password, it’s a micro-gift. I believed this abstractly before; I believe it bodily now, because my favorite boulangère brightened when I added “bonne journée.”
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Logistics: Bus M2 will always arrive the second I take off my backpack to look for my pass. I now believe this as a law of physics and plan accordingly.
Want to try it with me?
When you write, ask: What did I believe at the start? What shifted? What detail made it real? What sentence can I now say in French that I couldn’t before? Paste your four answers in the comments. I’ll collect a few in a future post (with credit) so newcomers can see how learning here actually feels.
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Read Natalie’s substack: “pleasing things…listening, discovering, remembering.” It’s a lovely doorway. (readwriteeat.substack.com)
Your turn — partagez une petite révélation !
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What’s a moment this week when your French (or France) changed shape for you?
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A time you believed something wholeheartedly (right or wrong!) and only later adjusted?
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Extra credit: give us one new French sentence you can now say.
Study corner: tips for every level
A1 — Keep a tiny “four-part” journal entry after class: (1) Je croyais… (2) Maintenant, je crois… (3) one sensory detail (odeur/son/vue), (4) one new sentence you can say. 3–4 lines only.
A2 — Tell a friend your revelation using parce que and mais:
“Je croyais que ‘bonjour’ suffisait, mais maintenant je dis aussi ‘bonne journée’ parce que ça change l’ambiance.”
B1 — Practice the imparfait for “before belief” and passé composé for the click:
“Je pensais que la caissière voulait de la monnaie exacte; puis elle m’a dit ‘pas de souci’, et j’ai compris que le sourire comptait plus.”
B2 — Test a “false but wholehearted” belief in a short paragraph. Argue it persuasively, then overturn it with a concrete detail. Great rhetoric workout.
Advanced/C1+ — Write a 300-word scène on the Cours Mirabeau where the revelation is shown only through gesture and sound (leaves, scooters, cutlery), not explained. Then add a one-line epiphany in French at the end.
Sources & further wandering
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Natalie Serber, “pleasing things…listening, discovering, remembering” (read.write.eat on Substack). (readwriteeat.substack.com)
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What makes the Cours Mirabeau special (its plane trees, history, and fountains), if you’re new to Aix. (French Moments)
Merci for reading—and for believing wholeheartedly, even when we’re hilariously off. See you in the comments.
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