I’ve been having a small, annoying, common medical problem that is entirely treatable by any number of products that you see advertised on TV in the U.S. during sporting events. (No, no, no, it’s not that problem … jamais, jamais in Paris, the city of love!) But here in France, it isn’t possible to just to into a drug store and buy products like that. Such products (and others equally common) are only available in a pharmacie, and only after a consultation with the pharmacien (or pharmacienne) behind the counter, who discusses with you the specific ailment you’re looking to cure, then gives you the appropriate product. For example, when my son Andrew had a bad intestinal problem, I had to go discuss his situation with the pharmacien before I could buy what’s called Immodium in the U.S. I couldn’t just go buy it on my own.
Well my particular problem involves (here’s the TMI part, look away if you are squeemish) an itchy rash, and I knew exactly what I needed for it, but I didn’t know the French words I needed to communicate with the pharmacien (nor, frankly, did I particularly want to, since in truth it’s none of his business). So Suzie and I sat down with the dictionary and tried to suss out the proper vocabulary.
First order of business … just what do you call the offending agent in French. Let’s see … oh, yes, here it is: champignion. What?!? Champignon like the things that you cook? So I have to walk into the pharmacy and tell the man that I have … mushrooms? Good God. OK, OK, take a breath … what’s the next thing I need? Oh yeah, a description of what is wrong. Let’s see, it’s “itch,” that’s … demangeaison. Wait a minute, I see a verb I know in there … it’s manger, French for “to eat.” So that means I have to go into the pharmacy and tell the man not only that I have mushrooms, but also that they are eating me? This is looking less likely. One more thing, the location … let’s see, let’s see, here it is … finally, I get a break; the French word is a little better than the corresponding English word, which I’ve always thought was a little rough, albeit in perhaps an entirely appropriate way.
In any case, armed with my new vocabulary, and accompanied by my back-up translator Suzie, I walked down the block to the pharmacy on the corner. I’m wishing, hoping, praying, of course, that the person behind the counter is a pharmacien and not a pharmacienne. Preferably he’d be an old guy with warts or something who’d experienced the very same thing multiple times during his life.
But, of course, that was not to be. The person behind the counter was a pharmacienne, a young, pretty pharmacienne who could not have been more than 27 or 28. “Madamoiselle, I have a problem. Mushrooms are eating me dans the entrejambe and I need your assistance.”
Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. She was very helpful and didn’t seem at all embarassed. She said I spoke French very well and that she loved English. She gave me a tube of champignion-killing lotion and charged me two euros and 15 centimes. And now all is well. Still, it does not seem right. In my opinion, French should have different words for the champignions that grow in the forest and the champignions that grow on human beings.
Categories: Travel -- France
Tags: French language champignon