The Nicest Woman I Never Talked With

August, 2019

In a previous post I mentioned the woman who runs the RV park where we stayed in Sherbrook, QC and that the only two words she seemed to know in English were "pay me".  It later occurred to me that I may have treated her unfairly and that it could have been construed as greed rather than the simple fact that she knew very little English.  And as also pointed out in that post, there's nothing wrong with that in Quebec.

"It was a good plan...  But Mama outsmarted me"

She was a lovely woman; 40-ish, comfortably heavyset and motherly (in a good way), with a very winning smile.  Not the 1000-watt smile of someone trying to sell you something you don't want or need, but more like a 100-watt smile, warm and natural.  When she lit it up, you could't help but respond in kind.  She also had a wonderful contralto voice that was made for French, which is a beautiful language to hear spoken, even when you can't understand the words.

Events caused some confusion in my mind (not that it takes much of an event to do that) about my campsite.  I made the reservation online and found only one site in the whole place that was available for a full two-week stay, but the map indicated that it was out in the hinterlands, away from everything and everyone.  Most times a location like that is fine for me, but I was in a rare sociable mood and decided that it wouldn't do.  So instead, I chose two sites — one for each week — that were closer to the masses.  It seemed like a good plan, even though it would require a move.  But Mama outsmarted me.

Apparently, a few days before I arrived she spotted the lone site that was open for a straight two weeks and, in an effort to be helpful, she moved me there... without asking.  She did call to let me know, but the language barrier resulted in the aforementioned confusion.

Check-in came and I found my site which, as luck would have it, was actually better than the two that I had chosen.  Those would both have put me too close to some folks who obviously loved country music and wanted everyone nearby — and possibly some people in the next province — to hear what good taste they had. 

Let me just pause here to point out that all modern RV's come with exterior speakers.  That's right, speakers on the outside of the vehicle.  In my humble opinion, the designer who thought that was a good idea should be horsewhipped, stocked and pilloried, pelted with sundry fruits and vegetables, and then made to listen to unending hours of country music at high volume.  And I know just where they can send him for that last part.

In case I need to mention it, I don't care for country music.

But all of the campers in my little corner were pretty quiet and the site itself was grassy and level.  So all was good and right with the world... until something occurred to me.  Since I had reserved two sites for one week each, could they be expecting me to move after the first week?  Move, that is, to the front row of the country concert venue?

It really wouldn't do to have someone show up wanting to claim my campsite for the next week with me having made no preparations to move.  So just to be sure, I thought I would try and communicate my concern to the boss lady (in French: la patronne).

Wisely, if I do say, I pulled out my phone and posed my question to Google Translate.  I then went to the office and placed the screen in front of her, whereupon she read it and with no hesitation, checked the map on her computer.  That resulted in a couple of sentences that I didn't understand, accompanied by a thumbs-up.  As far as I can determine, the thumbs-up is a universal sign.  I don't know if its meaning is identical from Albania to Zimbabwe, but in that country and that province at that moment, I knew that I was good-to-go.  Or stay, as the case may be.  I responded with the same gesture to say thanks and was rewarded with that great smile.

Nice lady!

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