come again?

I absolutely had this crazy idea coming into France, that this little tradition they have here in good ole Pear-ee called speaking French would rub off on me magically. Not to say that I'm a total French speaking loser...I do great...when I have 15 minutes to think through and respond to a question which was stated to me word for word with noticeable pauses. I'm not terrible at French, but I'm convinced that my on again, off again affair with the language has actually nothing to do with me at all. It's the Parisians. Yes, it's true...I've discovered that there in lies a detrimental flaw to all of Paris-kind that has lead to my decline in comprehension and added hours to how long it takes me to order a coffee...

They talk so damn quietly. I know that Americans are unusually and appallingly loud and obnoxious, but really, Pierre?! Can you speak at a decibel above a pin drop? I'd really appreciate it, given the fact that at any given time, there's some dude on a moped revving his engine to get that pretty blonde's attention or a heated debate on politics going on at the next table. And then when you ask them to repeat their last statement, I've gotten nothing but eye rolls and exaggerated shouts of their previous sentence. "Oh this unrefined ugly American who has lost her hearing from too many Monster Truck rallies". Maybe they have the superhuman ability to read minds, maybe my ears are shot from years of living among the loud and uncouth people from the motherland. Maybe they're really snotty. Maybe I'm not flexible. Until these maybes are further investigated, I will continue to shake my head when asked a question and pray that the man asked if I wanted sugar with my cafe...did he say "sugar"? or was that "umbrella"? Either way, my answer is a firm "oui".