It was bound to happen. Traveling at breakneck speeds takes quite the physical toll on you and at some point your body makes you slow down. In this case, it was a really bad cold that kept Erica bedridden in Paris- a city we’ve been dying to visit for years and had only three days allotted in our crazy schedule to experience. To ensure that we could squeeze the most out of this dire-looking situation, I sprung to action. Armed only with an iPhone and the knowledge that the French are taught how to speak English in school, I undertook the age old quest: acquire medication in a country that you don’t at all speak the native tongue and can’t even fake it.
Wandering the nearby streets, it didn’t take long to find one of the impossible-to-miss, neon green, flashing signs of a cross marking a pharmacy. Using an app on my phone, I translated the phrase “I need cough medicine” as I walked and practiced my best fake cough and sore throat face.
I entered, greeting the pharmacists with an over-practiced, yet still unnatural, “Bonjour!”- one of the three French phrases I knew. One of the ladies behind the counter responded in French with something I assumed was along the lines of “what can I do for you?” I prayed that the pharmacist paid more attention in her foreign language class than I ever did as I slowly approached her and asked if she spoke English. The answer was not what I was hoping for. She folded her arms and tightened her lips. Then, after what felt like several minutes, she dryly replied “a little” while rocking here flattened hand in that more-or-less kind of way. I took that to mean “I’d rather not” and instead of replying, I reached in my pocket and pulled out my phone with the translated phrase still displayed on the screen. She looked down at the screen then back up at me. “For you?” I shook my head and replied “for my wife.” She nodded in acknowledgement and disappeared behind the counter.
When she returned she was holding a binder. This binder was not full of women, but instead filled with every possible question a pharmacist might ask- in both French and English. I wanted to jump with excitement but the ‘Does she have this symptom?’ game had already begun. The pharmacist pointed to the sentence “Does the cough contain phlegm?” to which I responded with an excited and vigorous nod that lasted until she pointed to the next question. “Is the throat sore?” Again I responded in the same manner.
We continued down the list until she was satisfied that we covered all necessary ground. She gave me a quick body language tutorial on how to administer the medication and wrote the instructions for each on their respective boxes. After paying and profusely thanking her, I waved goodbye. I walked out of the pharmacy with my head held high, knowing I completed my quest and was going home a hero.
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Paris is a tough one. Even when they know English, they tend to not want to use it. I am happy this situation worked out for you though. Congrats!!!
Thank you Coco. It was definitely a close call. I would have ended up in the hospital had Shaun not been so persistent.