We all have that one language we swear we used to know—until we actually need it. For me, that language is French, and a recent trip proved just how rusty I’d become. 

So I decided to treat it like an experiment: Spend a week in Quebec, speaking only French, ready or not.

Use it or lose it

Most people in the U.S. have some foggy memory of learning pleases, thank yous, and a handful of phrases in a high school language class, but I held onto my French even more than that. My education coincided with the release of the French film juggernaut, Amélie, and I immediately fell in love with the big-hearted, shy heroine. My fascination with Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s fairytale version of France carried me into college, and—thankfully—led to a fair amount of language retention.

But if you don’t use it, you lose it, as I was quickly discovering.

Realizing this, I decided to do something dramatic: Go to Quebec City for the week, and only speak French. In preparation, I downloaded Duolingo, began subjecting myself to its stream of fantastically passive-aggressive push notifications reminding me to study, and used it so regularly that I became the kind of person who brags about their streak. (When I hit 100 days, I celebrated with a pain au chocolat.) I watched French films with French subtitles. And when I found a book of short stories in both French and English, I began reading it with a highlighter in hand to mark words I didn’t recognize. (There were a lot of them…)

The experiment

Arriving in Quebec, I tried to start every conversation with Je voudrais essayer en français (I would like to try in French), and locals were nice enough to indulge me. I was very aware that my U.S.-by-way-of-France accent stood out, but that was something that bothered me less as the week went on. On the advice of Dr. Cindy Blanco, who I emailed in a panic shortly before my trip, I concentrated on dropping my expectations for perfection. “Hardly any lifelong bilinguals communicate the same in both languages!” she noted. “Don’t worry about saying things exactly the way you would in your own language—instead, really rely on using what you already know in the language, which might mean doing more describing, pointing, and repeating.”

Even when I was alone, I did my best to challenge myself, listening to French podcasts while I worked out, watching the local news, creating Instagram stories in French, and texting French-speaking friends. However, to avoid becoming a linguistic recluse in my hotel room, I also booked a series of sightseeing tours, which meant speaking to people on the phone in French. Before each call, I built myself scripts, and shamelessly used them.

French, on location

At first, it wasn’t easy! I showed up to the first tour, Le Monastère des Augustines, a former hospital-turned-wellness center, literally covered in nervous sweat—which is hilarious because you’re unlikely to find a more relaxed place than a historical spa tour.

But the adventures got easier as the week went on. I trotted through the streets with a ghost-themed walking tour and picked up an entire iPhone notes app page of Goth-worthy vocabulary about executions and ghosts. I watched a virtual reality short film about the founding of Quebec, and then for a less colonial perspective, visited Onhwa’ Lumina, a light show dedicated to First Nations people.

I also got to enjoy plenty of successes along the way!

  • Once I was able to relax, I realized that most people I encountered were simply relieved they didn’t have to speak English.
  • A teenager at the movies beamed when I told him I was seeing a dubbed screening of Minions to improve my French and, in timid English, he told me he was doing the same thing in reverse! (We high-fived.)
  • An extremely attractive natural foods store employee smiled and spoke slowly—before talking me into buying $15 of
    amandes enrobées de chocolat
    , or chocolate-covered almonds. (I know I was an easy target, but I regret nothing. They were delicious.)

The results are in 🔬

By the end of the week, operating in my second language no longer felt quite so daunting even if it never felt fully natural. But something more interesting happened—I stopped caring. Studying French has built a roadmap to something outside myself. Who cares how many wrong turns I take in in the process?

With my week-long experiment over, I stopped into a coffee shop on my way out of Quebec City, and found myself unable to shift gears. “What would you like?” the person behind the counter asked in English, switching languages when they sensed my hesitation. I took a deep breath and considered my options. Je voudrais essayer en français, I replied, before continuing to order.

Embrace the unfamiliar!

Learning a language isn’t about perfection—it’s about showing up, trying again, and enjoying the process. A week of French didn’t make me fluent, but it made me fearless… and with a little practice (and a lot of Duo reminders), you might surprise yourself, too.