La Vache!

Long known for its fierce independence – the dukedom of Brittany did not join the French nation until 1532, and Saint Malo (where we spent our fourth and final week), still flies its own flag higher than the French bleu-blanc-rouge – la Bretagne has a language uniquely its own. But, with the passage of time, the old dialect has faded away, and though an occasional yc'hed mat (cheers) or kenavo (good bye) can be heard at Breton gatherings, most of the original vernacular has yielded to the prevalence of the French tongue.

Shaped by the intricate social swirl of the medieval courts, French is subtle and nuanced, rife with indicators of culture and class. The closeness of French relationships is measured by the language used, whether the informal you (tu) or more formal you (vous) regulates the conversational exchange. Generally, vous is used with strangers, elders, and in formal work settings, while tu is used between friends and family.

What a surprise, then, for us to discover that within French Rotary clubs, tu is always used between Rotarians. This week, as we toured the beautiful harbor of Saint Malo by boat, visited an avionics company and a fertilizer maker, ate fresh seafood and drank champagne, our Rotarian hosts use only tu with us, as though we were already family.

“Americans are like cousins!” said Ernest Menard, a Rotarian and founder of a major furniture making company based in Plancoet. After we toured his factory, he treated us to a lunch at a chateau where we dined on salmon and sipped a garnet Bordeaux. After nearly four weeks of winter-like cold and rain almost every day, the sun shone down and the temperatures climbed into the balmy 60s. We nibbled on cool bites of strawberry purée and listened to the hum of a lawn mower outside.

Aside from the tu and vous distinctions, the French language, ever stratified, also has “familier” words. These are reserved for informal settings between friends. We knew we had officially been welcomed into the Rotarian community when our hosts, laughing, taught us one of their favorite (and most familier) expressions.

“La vache!” they’d say, talking about politics or the weather or the price of gasoline.

Vache means cow, and “la vache” is, well, a lot like “holy cow!”

Later, when we had the chance to milk a real Breton cow (a first for all of us, and definitely an unforgettable experience), we thanked the farmer who welcomed us on his farm.

“Tu as aimé?” he asked. You liked it?

“Incredible!” we said, laughing and passing out high-fives for our good milking skills.

“Oh, la, la,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. “La vache!”