Last day in Victoriaville/St. Norbert d'Arthabaska

I’m very happy I stayed a 2^nd night here. It would have been a bad idea to leave earlier than this. I was very, very sad to say goodbye to St. Cuthbert, which, is on the border of the Laurentian area, which, I just read, is known for it’s European flair. And the area I’m in, is in the ‘Eastern Townships,’ area, which is said to be ‘New England with a Quebec flair.’ So. I’d sized up these two regions exactly as the travel brochures do. Made me laugh. I prefer the Laurentian area, definitely. This area is nice, but feels too familiar to me, since I grew up in New England.

I want to move to Quebec. I’m going to try to get a grant to come study here, either a Fullbright, or maybe the third year award in the program I’m in currently. I love the feeling of living life in a different language. It’s not as hard as I’d always imagined it. Maybe it’s simply that I’m sorely ready for the experience. I don’t mind messing up in this language, because people, simply, understand. At least here they do, because there are 2 official languages, and many, many people in Quebec don’t speak English very well. They do speak, but not as fluently as they’d like, person after person has told me. They are humble, and seem to be very impressed that I’m an American who speaks any French at all. Often they want to know how I learned it. Most don’t seem to care/mind that I mess up all over the place. They are patient with me. I feel comfortable messing up, and being bold in the company of such humility. Perhaps, too, many people in France would be like this, too. I’ve always assumed the opposite, but I’m beginning to question my assumptions.

In fact, at this B&B this morning, there was another family from France, from Lyons. They seemed to be, perhaps, less educated than the other family from France that I met in St. Cuthbert. They were easy to talk to as well, though. They were less stylish, I’d say, than the other family, more sort of middle of the road mentality, though perhaps the two families earn about the same. It’s just that the family I met in St. Cuthbert was highly socially conscientious and intellectual. This family was more common. Anyway, this family here heartened me, because – and this is naïve – I just assumed that *everybody* from France was highly educated and perhaps had a chip on their shoulder (thought the other family I met wasn’t arrogant, either). This family felt like a family I might have grown up with in Maine; except, they’re from France. This was a wonderful experience for me to have. (Too, the man seemed to be very impressed with my French.)

I’ve warmed up to the couple who owns this place. The lawn/grounds are wonderful – gabezo, swimming pool (which I swam in tonight), little pond with many frogs and lily pads, many, many flowers, etc. The breakfast was wonderful, eggs from their farm, homemade creton (as in the other place too!), bacon, homemade jams, toast, fresh fruit before. It was incredible, the breakfast. They play classical music inside, quietly, throughout the day. There is a bathroom with a jacuzzi (I’m not so into jacuzzis), and in the bathroom, are many, many plants. They pay attention to detail here too; Louise and Francine’s home, simply, is perhaps more “worldly,” indicative of perhaps more education, etc. But this place is very much in line with the region/town. It’s very, very nice in general, and certainly, for the town. Extremely comfortable. I’ve laughed several times with the couple who owns it. I have a nice rapport with them at this point. I think it helps that everyone thinks I’m 10 years younger than I am. Maybe not.

Yesterday, I wanted to mention in yesterday’s post, when I first came in and was trying to ask some sort of question to the woman, and it was taking me *forever* to say what I wanted, and I was stumbling, the man, who was at the sink doing something, turned around to look at me, and stood staring, as if at a spectacle of sorts, as if to look at what his wife had just dragged in – something harmless, but very, very curious. It was as if I’d just said I’d perform some odd or impossible magic trick, and he watched on, skeptical but amused. His mouth was open a bit, in a half-smile, in wonder, amusement.

Whenever I think of this moment, I laugh out loud. The thing is, I always imagined such moments would be so painful, humiliating, that they’d prevent me from putting myself in a position where I experienced such moments…but actually, I find that I’m simply strong enough to weather the embarrassment of these, and that, in fact, I really enjoy having ownership of such moments; this is *my* learning another language, and I simply love it. I can join in with others who’ve had the same experiences, and who I’ve admired my entire life for putting themselves in that position.

Visited an organic produce/restaurant/alternative medicine little center in the mountains today. Was nice. I had just a soy ice cream bar (Soy Dream), because I’d already had lunch at a café that had wireless internet which was very, very expensive, but which I was dying to have, and went ahead with. Tried to speak a bit with the person working there, who looked at me in that familiar ‘what’s going on here’ way whenever I spoke, and so, I sat around, ate the ice
cream, walked around the gardens. Then stopped at a little park which, in the tourist map, advertised a waterfall as it’s big attraction. I began the walk, the beginning of which made me a little depressed – something about it feeling *so* familiar – New England all over again – and here it was being offered to tourists as something to see. But then, I found the waterfall, and then, I realized – truly for the first time ever – why people *like* waterfalls, something I never ever before understood (they seemed, again, sorta depressing to me, like ‘wow, look at the water fall’). The reason they’re so popular: the basins, where you can swim, wade, be refreshed (such as on this 95 degree day) by fresh, flowing water! It was wonderful! I didn’t have my bathing suit with me – oh that I had! – but I waded up to my shins, and let the water run over my legs. There were 2 small groups there, in their bathing suits, occasionally wading. How amazing, and now, I have a new interest in finding waterfalls everywhere, with large basins, and perhaps falls safe enough to sit under and have water run over you.

Then I went back to the cemetery by the church in my grandmother’s hometown…and I found my great-uncle’s grave! I couldn’t believe it. I really took my time, and I had a much better attitude today about being here, and I looked carefully…and there it was, not a crappy-ass broken, illegible stone like I was convinced of yesterday, but a decent, well-enough maintained stone, that, actually is shared by 2 other people, who have a newer, shinier stone (for the same other 2 people) right beside it. This was wise of my family; perhaps they couldn’t afford a ‘private’ stone for him, so they did the best they could, and got a respectable, decent stone with 2 others. He died young – 5 – years, of meningitis, my aunt told me. It was moving, and I wanted to buy flowers for him – I felt like here I was, maybe the last representative of my family to ever visit his grave (though I do intend to return), and I should mark this occasion, and take a picture of the grave with flowers for his sister, my one-remaining great-aunt. I couldn’t find flowers in the store across the street, but I did take many photos of the grave for my aunt.

I then tried to find the woman who works – on demand – at the church, Therese something or other. I asked for her at the store again (another woman working there), and this other, nicer, woman, showed me Therese’s house around the corner. She wasn’t home, then, or later, and so, I will try one last time tomorrow. I want to find out if my aunt Alice and Uncle Alfred were born here, or in Marquette, Michigan.

Then went for a walk, again today, in Parc d’Arthabaska. Beautiful. Went deeper into the woods. It’s a big mountain-biking park, apparently, with 18km of trails.

Came back to the auberge, took aforementioned swim and walk around lawn, came out of house to go to car and the woman owner, sitting on the deck, surprised me greatly, giving us both a good laugh. I then went to a real local-looking joint I’d seen en route to St. Norbert, in St. Norbert, actually, and indeed it was. Was awesome, real town-y. I’d noticed it was packed, when I was driving from St. NorbertàVictoriaville earlier in the day. Was great. Had a club sandwich – fresh chicken and tomatoes – with fries. Very generous.

The American dollar against the Canadian dollar sucks right now – worst time in my life I think – so I’m paying dollar for dollar…worst time in my life to take this trip, but hey.

D’accord. Je dois me coucher. A tout a l’heure. (Must figure out the french keyboard so I can do my accents.)

jem