Champignons and the triumph of Language
I am going to forewarn you that if you have any squeamishness about ‘feminine’ diseases you probably don’t want to read this, but that also you should probably realize that nobody has a problem talking about ear infections and they amount to about the same thing.
Thursday morning, the 23rd of December, I woke up with the sinking (or rather itching) suspicion that some of the little symbiotic organisms living inside of me had decided to have a party and were getting a little out of control. Shit. I was catching an early train to Grenoble to spend Christmas with the Reys, and didn’t have time to go to a pharmacy before leaving. I quickly looked up the translation for yeast and ran out the door, late as usual. I checked for pharmacies at the three train stations I passed through, but had no success. When Jean-Michel and I got in the car in Grenoble I asked him if we could stop at a pharmacy he graciously asked no questions.
We soon spotted a flashing green cross which is the European sign for pharmacy and he left me off in front of it and said he would circle the block. I walked up to the pharmacist, a dark haired middle aged man, and gave him a somewhat lost look. “I have a feminine sickness” I began. He hurriedly told me that if I wanted to talk with a woman pharmacist I could wait a minute and she would be free, but that he was happy to help me. I didn’t really care, and told him so, and proceeded to try to communicate my problem. I tried the French word for yeast which meant nothing to him. He started describing some symptoms, using a combination of French and hand motions. "scratching?" he mimed and proceeded to go through other possible symptoms. we quickly became caught up in trying to communicate, any (socially constructed) embarrassment was forgotten. “Mushrooms?” he tried, “Yes!” I exclaimed, “That’s it!” Success! With big smiles on both of our faces he got the appropriate medicine, explained its usage, and started to make the transaction. As we waited for my bank card to go through we had delightful conversation about my stay in France and his travels to the US that was infused with excitement over our successful scaling of the language barrier. I left with a sort of triumphant feeling, not exactly what I thought I’d experience leaving a pharmacy with yeast infection medicine in hand.
Thursday morning, the 23rd of December, I woke up with the sinking (or rather itching) suspicion that some of the little symbiotic organisms living inside of me had decided to have a party and were getting a little out of control. Shit. I was catching an early train to Grenoble to spend Christmas with the Reys, and didn’t have time to go to a pharmacy before leaving. I quickly looked up the translation for yeast and ran out the door, late as usual. I checked for pharmacies at the three train stations I passed through, but had no success. When Jean-Michel and I got in the car in Grenoble I asked him if we could stop at a pharmacy he graciously asked no questions.
We soon spotted a flashing green cross which is the European sign for pharmacy and he left me off in front of it and said he would circle the block. I walked up to the pharmacist, a dark haired middle aged man, and gave him a somewhat lost look. “I have a feminine sickness” I began. He hurriedly told me that if I wanted to talk with a woman pharmacist I could wait a minute and she would be free, but that he was happy to help me. I didn’t really care, and told him so, and proceeded to try to communicate my problem. I tried the French word for yeast which meant nothing to him. He started describing some symptoms, using a combination of French and hand motions. "scratching?" he mimed and proceeded to go through other possible symptoms. we quickly became caught up in trying to communicate, any (socially constructed) embarrassment was forgotten. “Mushrooms?” he tried, “Yes!” I exclaimed, “That’s it!” Success! With big smiles on both of our faces he got the appropriate medicine, explained its usage, and started to make the transaction. As we waited for my bank card to go through we had delightful conversation about my stay in France and his travels to the US that was infused with excitement over our successful scaling of the language barrier. I left with a sort of triumphant feeling, not exactly what I thought I’d experience leaving a pharmacy with yeast infection medicine in hand.
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