You don’t want to speak French. You want to speak France.
The meeting. The préfecture. The dinner that runs four hours. The neighbours you have nodded at for two years. Four lines, twenty-five stations, and not one of them is about a holiday.
$60/year at launch · $7/month · no card today
The part nobody says out loud
They switch to English. Nobody is being rude.
Your colleague repeats the point in English so the meeting can move on. The pharmacist finishes your sentence for you. The dinner table waits three seconds, then carries on without you. The woman at the counter hears two words and does the maths.
None of that is an insult. Every one of them is an assessment, and you get assessed several times a day, in four completely different parts of your life.
You have done the apps. You have the streaks. You have been the same level for three years and you know exactly which rooms you still go quiet in.
Nobody switches on someone who keeps up.
🚇 The line
Twenty-five stations. Each one is a door that opens.
Scroll the line →
🎯 Four lines, four lives
This is not one journey. It’s four, and you pick.
Line 1 is the spine everybody walks. Branching off it are four themed lines, one per life you are actually trying to live. You choose your terminus on day one, and the Pass opens that line first.
The market, the pharmacy, the préfecture, the neighbours upstairs. Your own street stops being a performance.
They ask you in the meeting. You answer in French, unrehearsed, and nobody translates for you afterwards.
Four hours at dinner, an argument about pensions, and your opinion lands where you aimed it.
The news, the strike, the election, the joke everyone got but you. France stops happening behind glass.
☕ Ten minutes a day
On the France of this exact week.
Paris speed stops beating you
The dictation of the day, native audio, one sentence at three speeds, and a correction that shows precisely where your ear quit.
Front pages open up
French headlines run on a code nobody teaches. Learn the code, and Le Monde stops being a wall.
This week’s France is the material
The weekly quiz is built on the news you read that morning. Nothing invented for learners.
Your mistakes come back for you
Day 2, day 7, day 21, day 60. They keep returning until they stop being mistakes.
You leave with the goods
A fresh Anki deck every week, audio included. Yours, whatever happens next.
The line keeps score
Not streaks. Stations. Sixty-eight tickets, and each one names something you no longer avoid.
🎫 What you collect
Stop collecting streaks. Collect stations.
A streak proves you opened an app. A punched ticket names a thing you can do in front of French people.
💶 Price at launch
Seven dollars a month. Five if you take the year.
A coffee, a croissant, a pain au chocolat. That’s the month.
It is also station six of twenty-five, and the smallest thing on the list. The préfecture is at fifteen. The meeting is at nineteen.
Zero contract. Liquidate in 2 clicks. Thirty day guarantee, the same one we honour on everything else here.
🚉 First train
The list boards first. And keeps the launch price.
One email when the doors open. Nothing in between. The first travellers hold their price for as long as they stay on board.
Being built now, on top of the Briefing that is already free and already daily. No countdown here: we open the line when it runs properly.
