Well, I'm back in America for another 15 hours or so. I'm glad I'm here, because I had forgotten why I left. I miss you all, but seriously, Canada is great. It's what I imagine the U.S. would be like if we had a commitment to our professed values.
But one thing America did get right is letting us eat whatever we want. In England, the candy "Nerds" is banned. Yes- banned! Because it is too sweet. So English kids have to stock up when they visit America.
Another thing we have that Europe doesn't is Halloween. Also Thanksgiving. So I'm looking forward to celebrating with people who aren't sick of those holidays yet, and who have never really even experienced them. I can't wait to let y'all (the English kids love "y'all") know how the return journey goes. Another three hours in the car and four on a bus? Not so bad.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
I`m on the library computer
Yes, after all I went through to get my own internet connection up and running, I have now been cut off again and must use someone else`s. Good Lord, I now have to leave my appartment to indulge my inner narcissist online. Not cool.
And holy merde, I just found the question mark symbol. I actually had to ask a girl in the library how to "faire le signe d`arrobe" so that I could make an @. Well, to make up for all of my poorly punctuated questions on Facebook today, here you are: ???????????????
Well, I was wrong about the date of the placement test. It was today. And it was hard. But I guess that`s kind of the point.
I`m already making friends, too, which is nice--- and, I must admit, unexpected. I particularly hit it off with Ana from Mexico, Chan from China, Ingo from Austria, and Jo, Hannah, and Marcus from England. Things are going well here. Everyone is so nice and patient when I try to talk to them. And their stories are interesting. Some people are at the school to learn French so that they can study toward an MBA, some are recent immigrants with families who need to learn the language to get a job, and others are exchange students with French majors, or whose universities require a semester or year abroad.
Oh, and my groundhog has a name--- Boudoin. It means "brave friend." My mom found it and I love it! I bought a pear for him at Loblaw`s today, and I watched from a distance as he peeped back out of his hold hole and then grew comfortable enough to eat the slices. There`s probably some rule against feeding him, but law enforcement is pretty scarce up here, and as I told my dad when he asked about the legalities, it is a crime of passion. My love of wildlife will certainly be mitigating.
Also, the British students think that groundhogs and possums are exciting, because they don`t get to see them back home. So I`m not the only one. I`m going to make a Boudoin fan page on Facebook. Because he`s my man. "Like" and give me your address and I`ll send you an "official supporter" hand-written certificate on notebook paper. You know you want one.
And holy merde, I just found the question mark symbol. I actually had to ask a girl in the library how to "faire le signe d`arrobe" so that I could make an @. Well, to make up for all of my poorly punctuated questions on Facebook today, here you are: ???????????????
Well, I was wrong about the date of the placement test. It was today. And it was hard. But I guess that`s kind of the point.
I`m already making friends, too, which is nice--- and, I must admit, unexpected. I particularly hit it off with Ana from Mexico, Chan from China, Ingo from Austria, and Jo, Hannah, and Marcus from England. Things are going well here. Everyone is so nice and patient when I try to talk to them. And their stories are interesting. Some people are at the school to learn French so that they can study toward an MBA, some are recent immigrants with families who need to learn the language to get a job, and others are exchange students with French majors, or whose universities require a semester or year abroad.
Oh, and my groundhog has a name--- Boudoin. It means "brave friend." My mom found it and I love it! I bought a pear for him at Loblaw`s today, and I watched from a distance as he peeped back out of his hold hole and then grew comfortable enough to eat the slices. There`s probably some rule against feeding him, but law enforcement is pretty scarce up here, and as I told my dad when he asked about the legalities, it is a crime of passion. My love of wildlife will certainly be mitigating.
Also, the British students think that groundhogs and possums are exciting, because they don`t get to see them back home. So I`m not the only one. I`m going to make a Boudoin fan page on Facebook. Because he`s my man. "Like" and give me your address and I`ll send you an "official supporter" hand-written certificate on notebook paper. You know you want one.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I'm checking out your moped, not you, dork!
Yep. As I told some of you via text message, guys ride mopeds up here unironically.
I'm all for going green, but please don't act like you're cool by hunching over on a mini motorcycle with your messenger bag slung across your chest. Please. The look is just not sexy. I don't know where you're getting the idea that it is.
But then, maybe I just have different taste, being from the exotic land of Upstate New York.
Moving on.
I saw the groundhog today. I bought birdseed for him at Canadian Tire, but he didn't eat it. (I looked online later and learned that they like vegetables and fruit. They have been known to climb trees in pursuit of apples and pears. So now you know.) I also bought a voodoo doll from a vending machine there for Christina.
Canadian Tire is, in Olivia's words, un magasin pour les hommes. It's what you would get if Sears, Dick's, and Carhart had a baby and raised it in the Quebec wilderness. There's all kinds of stuff there- tools, hockey gear, kitchen appliances, toilets, bait... I ended up going there twice because the first time I got caught up in the hunt for souvenirs to send back to you all that I forgot the birdseed that I went there in search of.
I also went to Loblaws again to buy my first bag of milk. Rachel, Olivia, and Olivia's friend Gabrielle were there when I came back. I was so excited to try it! They thought my reaction was funny. To them, bags of milk are a pretty normal thing. Gabrielle pointed out that the bags "sont plus practique, non?" compared to cartons, and I guess that makes sense. They're probably better for the environment, you can freeze the extra ones you buy (at least that's what I did. I don't know if you're actually supposed to do that), and you can show off your nifty milk pitcher whenever you have someone over for cereal.
I actually put my milk in an enormous Quebec-sized decanter, because it was cheaper than the pitcher and could hold more.
My roommates' classes start tomorrow. It's probably a good thing, too. Orientation got a bit crazy. Olivia came home early from the party last night because she got ketchup in her hair and got really grossed out by it. But this did not happen accidnetally. The psych students covered themselves in condiments as part of the festivities. (Maybe they do that to get a glimpse inside the heads of their future clients. That's my best guess, anyway.) Other majors had nerf wars, drove around campus shouting at passerby with bullhorns, or did, as I saw for the first time this afternoon, relay-type activities dressed as wizards.
So that's that.
I'm all for going green, but please don't act like you're cool by hunching over on a mini motorcycle with your messenger bag slung across your chest. Please. The look is just not sexy. I don't know where you're getting the idea that it is.
But then, maybe I just have different taste, being from the exotic land of Upstate New York.
Moving on.
I saw the groundhog today. I bought birdseed for him at Canadian Tire, but he didn't eat it. (I looked online later and learned that they like vegetables and fruit. They have been known to climb trees in pursuit of apples and pears. So now you know.) I also bought a voodoo doll from a vending machine there for Christina.
Canadian Tire is, in Olivia's words, un magasin pour les hommes. It's what you would get if Sears, Dick's, and Carhart had a baby and raised it in the Quebec wilderness. There's all kinds of stuff there- tools, hockey gear, kitchen appliances, toilets, bait... I ended up going there twice because the first time I got caught up in the hunt for souvenirs to send back to you all that I forgot the birdseed that I went there in search of.
I also went to Loblaws again to buy my first bag of milk. Rachel, Olivia, and Olivia's friend Gabrielle were there when I came back. I was so excited to try it! They thought my reaction was funny. To them, bags of milk are a pretty normal thing. Gabrielle pointed out that the bags "sont plus practique, non?" compared to cartons, and I guess that makes sense. They're probably better for the environment, you can freeze the extra ones you buy (at least that's what I did. I don't know if you're actually supposed to do that), and you can show off your nifty milk pitcher whenever you have someone over for cereal.
I actually put my milk in an enormous Quebec-sized decanter, because it was cheaper than the pitcher and could hold more.
My roommates' classes start tomorrow. It's probably a good thing, too. Orientation got a bit crazy. Olivia came home early from the party last night because she got ketchup in her hair and got really grossed out by it. But this did not happen accidnetally. The psych students covered themselves in condiments as part of the festivities. (Maybe they do that to get a glimpse inside the heads of their future clients. That's my best guess, anyway.) Other majors had nerf wars, drove around campus shouting at passerby with bullhorns, or did, as I saw for the first time this afternoon, relay-type activities dressed as wizards.
So that's that.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Not to get you down, or anything
Okay, so my last post was a little heavy. But I felt like it was important to share some more serious thoughts.
Not that I don't have some lighter stuff to share.
For instance, today is Labour Day. Which menas everything is closed except for Pharmaprix (pronounced "Far-mah-pree", not "pricks") and the gas station up the street that sells pretty much just booze, junk food, and lottery tickets. (Don't worry, I don't play the lotto.) So I think I wandered around for probably a total of two hours or so today looking for something to do. (I ended up buying a copy of Forrest Gump, watching it, and heading out again for some canned peaches. When I got home I ate the peaches. And that's about it.)
The best thing about everything being closed is that you can walk around like a creep and stare at people but pretend you're just looking for a place that sells canned peaches. Also if you stop to talk to a friendly groundhog no one will see you and think you're crazy.
This groundhog ("marmotte") is pretty brave. Or maybe he just smelled my fear of contracting rabies and that gave him a confidence boost. He was hanging out by his hole in the lawn when I spotted him and stopped for a cautious chat. At first he seemed a little weirded out by the attention, and he didn't say much, but after a while I got the sense that he was starting to like me. There's a pet store on Sainte Marguerite. Maybe they know what sort of treats I could buy for him.
Or maybe it's a she. Anyway, it needs a name. It's hard because I get the sense that it's a guy (he just kind of stares stupidly off into space when you're trying to talk to him), but "marmotte" is a feminine noun. And I don't think I'll be getting close enough to find out for sure. Any name ideas?
Not that I don't have some lighter stuff to share.
For instance, today is Labour Day. Which menas everything is closed except for Pharmaprix (pronounced "Far-mah-pree", not "pricks") and the gas station up the street that sells pretty much just booze, junk food, and lottery tickets. (Don't worry, I don't play the lotto.) So I think I wandered around for probably a total of two hours or so today looking for something to do. (I ended up buying a copy of Forrest Gump, watching it, and heading out again for some canned peaches. When I got home I ate the peaches. And that's about it.)
The best thing about everything being closed is that you can walk around like a creep and stare at people but pretend you're just looking for a place that sells canned peaches. Also if you stop to talk to a friendly groundhog no one will see you and think you're crazy.
This groundhog ("marmotte") is pretty brave. Or maybe he just smelled my fear of contracting rabies and that gave him a confidence boost. He was hanging out by his hole in the lawn when I spotted him and stopped for a cautious chat. At first he seemed a little weirded out by the attention, and he didn't say much, but after a while I got the sense that he was starting to like me. There's a pet store on Sainte Marguerite. Maybe they know what sort of treats I could buy for him.
Or maybe it's a she. Anyway, it needs a name. It's hard because I get the sense that it's a guy (he just kind of stares stupidly off into space when you're trying to talk to him), but "marmotte" is a feminine noun. And I don't think I'll be getting close enough to find out for sure. Any name ideas?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Finally back online!!
Well, with the help of my roommate Olivia, I have obtained a cord that connects my computer to the internet (as well as to the wall, which means I can sit no more than 2.1 metres from the plug.) I am finally back online. I didn't realize how much time I wasted on the Internet until I had no wifi access.
Things are going even better than planned. I used my first few days on my own to grocery shop, gaze lovingly at my garden gnome, and watch the few dvd's I could fit in my suitcase (if you haven't seen Matt Damon in "The Informant!", go out and rent it immediately.) Trois-Rivieres is a small city by urban standards, but on my scale it is huge. There is a mall around the corner, and a Loblaws, where you can buy bags of milk (Olivia was surprised that we don't have sacs de lait in America.) Also, they sell single bottles of beer (collect 'em all!) The gas station up the street has an entire wall cooler devoted only to beer, a cheap liquor display, a decent liquor display, an expensive liquor display, and all sorts of wine, but no quart containers of ice cream or tampons. They don't I.D., either. The only indication that there is a drinking age at all is the Bud "are you 18?" sign at the checkout counter.
So that's different.
For orientation, all the kids from a particular major tour campus as a group in costume in the day, and then go party at a chalet at night. Olivia is going to her orientation dressed as a biker chick. She bought fake tattoos for her neck and cut up a pair of jeans this afternoon in preparation. I haven't yet heard of an American school having costume parties so that kids can meet the people in their program.
So that's different, too.
I'm loving this new experience- it's nice to be somewhere that's not so far from home, but is culturally worlds away, and I'm lucky to be with people who are patient with me. There's a lot I don't understand, but I am picking up on more and more French, and my immersion program hasn't even begun yet. Hopefully there will be more "compris" and less "J'comprends pas" in time.
Things are going even better than planned. I used my first few days on my own to grocery shop, gaze lovingly at my garden gnome, and watch the few dvd's I could fit in my suitcase (if you haven't seen Matt Damon in "The Informant!", go out and rent it immediately.) Trois-Rivieres is a small city by urban standards, but on my scale it is huge. There is a mall around the corner, and a Loblaws, where you can buy bags of milk (Olivia was surprised that we don't have sacs de lait in America.) Also, they sell single bottles of beer (collect 'em all!) The gas station up the street has an entire wall cooler devoted only to beer, a cheap liquor display, a decent liquor display, an expensive liquor display, and all sorts of wine, but no quart containers of ice cream or tampons. They don't I.D., either. The only indication that there is a drinking age at all is the Bud "are you 18?" sign at the checkout counter.
So that's different.
For orientation, all the kids from a particular major tour campus as a group in costume in the day, and then go party at a chalet at night. Olivia is going to her orientation dressed as a biker chick. She bought fake tattoos for her neck and cut up a pair of jeans this afternoon in preparation. I haven't yet heard of an American school having costume parties so that kids can meet the people in their program.
So that's different, too.
I'm loving this new experience- it's nice to be somewhere that's not so far from home, but is culturally worlds away, and I'm lucky to be with people who are patient with me. There's a lot I don't understand, but I am picking up on more and more French, and my immersion program hasn't even begun yet. Hopefully there will be more "compris" and less "J'comprends pas" in time.
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