August, 2019
Are you bored with your life? Is your day to day routine too stultifying for words (even though stultifying is a pretty good word)? Do you yearn for some color in your black-and-white world? Then here's what you do: go spend some time in a country where they don't speak English. You don't even have to cross an ocean to find one, just head to Quebec. No, it's not a country, but it's pretty darned close.
We tend not to think of Canada as a foreign land. Sure, they use the metric system, their national sport is hockey (pronounced, "hawh′-kee"), and they eat odd foods like Poutine (which is actually no stranger than the things Waffle House does to hash browns). But in our endearingly myopic way, we still consider it more American than other countries, largely because, like us, they speak English. But wait...
Canada has something you don't often find in a country. Wedged in amongst three ordinary American-ish provinces is Quebec, which is not just Canadian, but also French. Proudly French.
The first time someone greets you with "Bon jour!", it's tempting to think they're kidding. But French has been the official language of the province since the British granted the Quebec Act way back in 1774. Many Quebecers do speak English, often with a heavy Gallic accent, but many don't. Not a word.
When a local says something in their native tongue and you reply "I'm sorry, but I don't speak French," you may get a look of confusion in return because they don't even understand that phrase. We American's are just not used to that.
Indeed, there may be no better example of our self-focused perspective than the way we so often refer to ourselves as "Americans". In doing so, we eliminate all Canadians from our world view, even though they too live in North America, to say nothing of disrespecting an entire continent to our south. But I digress.
Another reminder that you're not in Kansas, or even Calgary, anymore is that signs are in French. Not some signs, but street signs, traffic signs, business signs... all signs, all French. It's like, well... a foreign country.
The RV park where we're currently docked packs vehicles in pretty tightly and, as the nature of RV-ing is living outdoors, conversations among neighboring campers are easily heard. In a full week of residing here, I have yet to hear one word of English spoken. Each time I step outside my door I'm reminded that I am a foreigner here.
So I try to approach everyone in the park and on city streets with a smile because that's a universal language. I appreciate it when a grocery store clerk or barista quickly switches to English for me. I practice patience with others and thank them for theirs, often with a "merci". Only an "ugly American" expects everyone to speak our language and I sure don't want to be seen that way.
If this website has a theme, it's that change is good. If you're observant, and one of the two or three people who actually read these posts, you'll see it on almost every page. Some folks choose to stay safe in their cocoons, but it's refreshing to step outside our sheltered lives once in a while. It's a wake-up, a splash of cold water in the face. That's what this time in Quebec has been for me.
Of course, it's also left me starved for conversation. So in the name of everything that is holy, will someone please CALL AND TALK TO ME!
And when I answer the phone, don't say "Bon jour!".
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