The Edible Cat

It’s been a nice mix of relaxing and eventful here in Longueuil the last couple of days. The eventful? Exploring downtown Montréal, getting more than a little lost on a bike ride in Parc Michel-Chartand, and acquiring a new best friend in the neighborhood. The relaxing? Plenty of good reading and lounging time, late dinners on the patio with Guylaine and Richard, and a delicious night at a bistro called Le Tire-Bouchon (The Corkscrew).

Downtown: Downtown Montreal feels a lot like the downtown of large American cities, except cleaner and there’s a higher probability you will run into a beautiful old church. Highlights included strolling through McGill University’s campus, going inside Marie-Reine-du-Mone Cathedral (which is supposed to be a scale model of St Peter’s Basilica), window shopping along Rue Sainte-Cathérine, and seeing some of Les FrancoFolies de Montréal musical festival. I didn’t like this district as much as Vieux-Montréal, just because it didn’t feel much different than the US, but I still had a great afternoon. The only difficulty was finding the metro to return back to Longueuil. I found my way back to the location easily enough, but the metro station is located somewhere amid what was seemingly a small civilization (fittingly called The Underground City). You had to look for tiny little signs with hard to interpret arrows pointing you along amid a giant mall and hundreds of crazed shoppers. Richard told me later that it is the largest underground complex in the world. There are apartment buildings, hotels, condos, banks, offices, museums, universities, an amphitheatre, and many more malls and metro stations all connected through this crazy complex.

Parc Michel-Chartand: This is a huge park in Longueuil not far from where I am living. At Guylaine’s suggestion and assurances, I went on a bike ride to this park. Guylaine was right, it was fairly easy to find (aside from accidently biking on a golf cart road for a hot minute), but when I say this park is huge, I mean huge. Apparently it’s 1,850,000 m², and 235 km of bike trails traverse it and the other 300 parks of the city. These Canadians cannot get enough bike-riding. So I found the park and it was lovely. Parts of it felt like Fontenelle Forest in Omaha (I even saw a deer!), while other parts included a huge community garden, a toboggan hill, numerous playgrounds, and a tranquil open area with a pond. I enjoyed myself a lot. However, it seems as if this park is accessible to everyone in Longueuil. It also seems as if everyone in Longueuil lives by a golf course and has a pool in their backyard. Put all of this together and it was virtually impossible to find my way back. I had been traversing through and around the park in every sort of direction and had forgotten where I had entered. I tried a few different paths and they all looked the same. I eventually made it back, but I’m not even sure if it was the same way I had used to get there! It’s a good thing I became more familiar with this park while I was by myself and not with two 9 year olds.

One final observation about parks and then we can talk about something else. I know that whenever I pass someone hiking or biking on the trail at home, we often say hello or nod. Here, that never happened. It seemed weird to me at first that a people said to be so friendly never really acknowledged each other at this park, but I have a theories as to why. Perhaps the people of Canada don’t view these activities as out of the ordinary. You don’t go around saying hi to people you pass on the street or waving to people in their cars. Whereas in the US we feel we might have a special bond with other walkers, hikers and bikers, maybe in Canada riding your bike or walking around a park is just something everyone does and it would be too hard to greet everyone.

My charges: Since my arrival, I hadn’t really had much time to spend with the kids between school and other activities. Yesterday however they didn’t have any practices or shows and we got to play on the playground across from their house. We made an obstacle course with sidewalk chalk, which included one portion in which you had to faire la poule* (dance like a chicken). Soon half the neighborhood had joined in and it was interesting to see how and when they learned that I wasn’t Canadian. Soon I became something of a collector’s item with kids quizzing me on how to do math or say the colors in French and testing their geographical knowledge of the US. When we were playing on the playground equipment a bespectacled tyke named Nicholas-Claude took a liking to me. At one point he grabbed my leg and refused to let me go even, when I was walking. This lead to the kids all called him my petit ami (boyfriend) and Ophélie getting a little frustrated. I believe she pretended to twist her ankle just to get me back!

That evening we went to dinner where I had a fabulous 3 course meal and got to meet Richard’s sister and her husband. The kids started getting impatient though so I ended up playing some games with them on the side of the restaurant. These games are wonderful for my French. One of them consisted of a person crying out “J’ai perdu mon wicidyce!” (I lost my… some made-up word that I have no idea how to spell). The other people respond “C’est comment, ton wikidyce?” (What’s your wicidyce like?). Then the person responds by describing one of the people in the group. If the description matches you, you try to tag the describer before they run to a designated area. My other favorite activity was telling jokes to the others and getting a score from 1-10. I had the kids cracking up trying to do yoga poses and falling over or being a frog that accidentally catches a bee instead of a fly. These games lasted until late into the night and were good reassurance for me that I am decent enough with the language and pretty good with these kids.

*Interestingly, the French (and the French Canadian) have different words for chicken that you eat and chicken the animal. I guess this isn’t too different from our own language though because we do not pluralize one of the two; if you were to say, “I ate chickens” it would be as if you ate the live animals.

And on that note, The Language: I love being around the French language every day. I get to learn the names of new foods because all of the labels are in French, I ‘borrowed’ some of the French songs on the Portelance-Lavoie family’s iTunes, and I get to be around native speakers. It’s interesting how different the pronunciation of some of the words are. The one that comes to mind now is bien, but I’ve noticed tons. One difference that I do like is that to say you’re welcome here you can say bienvenu rather than the ugly de rien or long je vous en prie. There have been a few funny incidents though. Ophélie was telling me about a gateau (cake) she had eaten, but for some reason my brain switched to Spanish and I thought of a gato. I expressed my surprise right away and we had a good laugh when we realized what had happened. I’ve also mixed up marmotte (marmot) and mammouth (mammoth), two things that are fairly different. It’s good when I make such big mistakes though because then I get corrected right away. With small errors, they are too nice to say anything and then later I feel like a fool when I realize I used the wrong pronoun or conjugated something horribly.

Bye Bye (they legitimately say that here),

Meredit

The Arrival

14 June 2011

I can’t tell you much yet about Montreal or Canada, but I can say a lot about the Portelance-Lavoie family and how fantastic they are. Upon a somewhat shaky arrival in Canada, I was greeted with smiles, hugs, and gifts. They’ve told me over and over again to make myself at home and to tell them if I need anything. Just as important as taking care of the kids is that I be happy. I guess part of this making me happy bit includes giving me a Blackberry, bike, and fully stocked cabinet of Yves Rocher products in my own bathroom. I bet I’m going to have to try really hard to be happy.

I haven’t had much trouble with language so far. At the airport, I spoke in English for the most part because that it was I was addressed in. We had a fairly long car ride in which I was extremely aware of how dry my mouth was and how dreary Montreal looked. I tried to make it look like I was impressed with the little bit of we were driving through for their sake, but it was a rainy, miserable day (and I was not impressed). Guylaine had apparently instructed the kids to not sink into their Canadian accent too much, to enunciate, and to speak very slowly. As such, I understood a lot of what was said to me and could give decent responses, but when they would rapidly speak to each other, I couldn’t make out much. The Canadian accent is much more nasally than the French I’m familiar with and the Canadians like to use more ‘contractions’, which makes the language a lot uglier in my mind (e.g. something like pt instead of petit, which made it extremely hard for me to order a pizza convincingly at lunch). I’ve also noticed an odd contradiction between being the “protecteur de la langue” that they claim to be and letting English slip in. Fabrice and Ophélie say things I never heard in France like “Oh my god” and “cool” but at the same time the stop signs here actually say “arrêt” (they said stop in France), the license plates say “je me souviens” (I remember, referring to their French history), and the Quebecois are generally known for their refusal to borrow English words.

So let me tell you a little bit more about my family and new home. Richard and Guylaine are the names of the parents. They are both pretty fluent in English and work in marketing (Guylaine for a pharmaceutical company and Richard for a printing company). Guylaine is the most kind-hearted person. She has provided me with so much and is incredibly easy to talk to. She adores her children and they adore her, and it is easy to see why. Richard is a very smart man and good cook. My first night here he cooked a fabulous meal of soup, duck, green beans, and potatoes. And of course, wine and bread flowed steadily throughout the meal. Richard and Guylaine and I spoke about languages, cultures, and even a little bit of politics. Richard was telling me about some of the perks of a socialized government (healthcare, education, banking regulations, recession-free), so I said maybe the United States should learn a little from Canada. He just stuck his hand out and shook his head, “No, no! No country is called perfect.” I think I’m going to enjoy more of these conversations.

Fabrice and Ophélie, my ‘charges,’ are 9 year old twins. Fabrice is very smart and a huge joker. He likes to do funny dances, tell jokes, and do impressions. He says random stuff like “C’est ma visage” (this is my face) while holding a weird picture in front of his face or “Je suis un raton-laveur!” (I’m a raccoon!) while contorting his face to look somewhat rodent-like. I suppose he reminds me a little of me when I am in my weirdest moods. Ophélie is so sweet and caring. She watches me carefully to make sure it looks like I am having fun or that I’m not too confused. She speaks to me very slowly and asks if I understand things. She has already taken a liking to me I think because she has shown me her dance recital video twice already and always wants to sit by me at dinner. The first day I arrived, I spent a lot of time with the kids. They played music for me (piano and guitar) and then we played some Wii, a game that was the Toronto winter Olympics and it was hilarious to hear the announcer say names like Bowswer Jr. and Yoshi with a French Canadian accent. Next we went next door to Ophélie’s best friend Eva’s house to fetch her and play outside. We played on the playground and played some hide and seek (called 1, 2, 3, 4 Me in Canada), but it was pretty muddy. In a heated race to base, Fabrice fell and skinned his knee so we went home to clean it up. This whole time I was pretty worn out from the early morning and the traveling, but the kids had other plans for me. We continued to play a card game kind of like War and the most fun game of Twister I have ever played, to do a puzzle, and to play some soccer. All of this playing confirmed what I already kind of knew, that these kids were wonderful and that I was going to have a great time. And that the phrase “zut alors” (something like a silly, outdated version of darn) is hilarious to all French-speaking people.

Dinner came and went and we were all happy with the food and each other’s company. Eva’s parents came to pick her up, so I got to meet them and I think Guylaine and Richard were happy to see me interact with them so well (I told a good anecdote about my dad’s work) because they had told me they had plans for me to meet a lot of people.

My second day, Monday, was long and lonely because everyone was at work and school, but it was nice to have a day of recuperation and exploration of the house. I am living in a large, modern house in a town 20 minutes outside of Montreal called Longueuil. Where I am is like a housing development, but there is a nice downtown area that I was pleasantly surprised by. The house has some interesting eccentricities that I’m not sure are common to Canada or not, but they include a refrigerator that must be 6 feet tall and seems more like a bank vault than a fridge, a third drawer in the dish washer exclusively for laying out the silverware, and the world’s smallest water glasses. I don’t drink much, but during dinner I had to refill my glass at least three times. I don’t know how these people stay hydrated.

When Richard returned we went to pick up the kids from their after school program. They go to a private school (not Catholic though) that has a swimming pool and lots of good programs for the arts and sports. The kids (there had to be a least 50 of them) were all playing in two giant courtyards and I was surprised that we could just walk in and take the kids without talking to anyone or signing anything. We had a quick dinner (soup and lasagna) and then went to Ophélie’s soccer game, which was a fun practice in vocabulary building. They lost, but I think that is the norm for them as they are more orientated on having fun as Richard explained. I helped the kids with their English homework, which was very difficult actually because I wanted to be able to explain more about why we do this or that but couldn’t find the words to do so. Hopefully I get better at this as we go along. Richard and Fabrice watched the Stanley Cup finals while Ophélie and I did another puzzle. Guylaine has been in Québec City for work. I am now about to go to the city to see the charming, old part that is supposed to be beautiful. I hope it doesn’t disappoint (and that I don’t get lost!)

Gros bisous,

Meredit (that’s how they pronounce my name her and I have to stop myself from smiling each time)